Ben and I woke up this morning at 7am, and as we stumbled out into the living room, all of a sudden I was wide awake. Flakes of snow were falling furiously past our windows, and there was already a layer of snow on the cars and playground beneath us. Yes, today is the first day of Spring (supposedly), and Good Friday. Most people are pulling out their brightly colored springtime attire for church on Sunday, and here I am thankful that I didn't send my turtleneck sweaters and wool socks back to the US already (since I obviously won't need them in Chad). Six hours later and its still snowing.
Last year for Good Friday I was in Chad. More specifically, I was holding on for dear life as my body got jolted to pieces on the back of a pick-up truck while any exposed area of skin slowly but surely got burnt to a crisp under the intense desert sun. Something about that day made it a lot easier to identify with the sufferings of Christ. Today, as I look out at the pristine beauty of freshly fallen snow, I keep thinking of how He promises that though our sins were like blood red stains, He has made us whiter than the snow by the spilling of His blood.
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