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  • Karen HIggins


At times harsh realities

blow on my door,

grief and disappointment

rain down in icy pellets,

clouds cover my soul,

dull and dreary.

An afghan around my shoulders,

I wander to the window

and look outside.

The raw cold of winter

is at hand,

and nature has gone to sleep.

The earth that nourishes roots

is hard and unyielding.

Yet I notice something else.

A blanket is provided

to protect the roots

and living things

throughout this season

of harshness.

Snow blankets the earth,

insulating the soil.

Moss carpets the forest floor,

providing a warm place

for insects and fungi.

Pine needles and leaves

are strewn over the ground,

prepared in advance

for winter.

And I wonder,

are blankets provided for me

when raw and cold times

are at hand?

What do I have

to protect my heart,

my spirit,

from hard things?

I look around and notice

a kind note from a friend,

an email containing wise counsel,

a home shared with those who love me.

Satisfying work awaits on my desk,

and a good book is ready for my leisure.

A sun ray peeps through a cloud,

turning old snow

into glittering beauty.

All of these physical things are good,

filling my insides with warmth

like a bowl of soup.

But it doesn't compare

to the protection,

the covering of grace,

poured out for me through

His sacrifice,

blanketing my soul during trials

of all kinds,

filling me with hope

for a joy-warmed


I drop the blanket from my shoulders.

Let the wind blow,

the snow fall,

the frost cover the earth.

I am covered,

blanketed with love.

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