Snowflakes and Children

Spending a day cleaning my office is not on my top ten list of favorite things to do, but something that occasionally must be done in order to maintain a reasonable semblance of order in my paper world.  It was time to throw out a lot of really old stuff – you know, the “why in the world did I ever keep this for?” kind of stuff.  In the midst of throwing, I pulled from the back of my file drawer in the bottom of my desk a folder full of poems and inspirational writings that I used to do when I was young. . .mostly before I was married.  I thought I would share some with you over the next few weeks. 

The weather has been unseasonably warm for this time of November, but we will soon pay with subfreezing temperatures and what the weather people say will be one of our worst yet.  As the first big snow begins to fall (one of my favorite things), I thought this would be an appropriate first poem to share with you.  I hope you enjoy it.

SNOWFLAKES AND CHILDREN

I watch serenely as the snowflakes fall

Upon my window pane

Each one so different, no two alike

A miracle again and again.

Fresh and clean, pure and untouched,

The pillows of snow soon appear.

It reminds me of a new born babe,

Warm and soft, so precious and dear.

All too soon, a stranger walks by,

Leaving dirty footprints in the virgin snow.

And all too soon the baby dear,

Gets prints on his soul as in life he grows.

We can’t help but see the prints in the snow,

That leave their mark so plain.

And, if we’re not careful with our child so dear,

We’ll soon see on his life a stain.

The snow will melt and the prints fade away.

Not so with the heart of a child.

He must be shown the right way to go,

While he’s still young, and tender, and mild,

Fresh, clean snow falls many times,

Bringing beauty, fun and delight.

But a child has not so many chances,

So he must learn to love and what’s right.

For a child doesn’t fade and his sin melt away,

Like the snow when the sun shines upon it.

Only Jesus can make his heart clean and pure,

When to Christ the child gives his heart.

Next time the snow falls fresh and new,

Take note of each unique flake.

Remember that children are much like the snow,

To be molded, their young lives to shape.

Snow will fall ‘til time is no more.

With a child, his time will run out.

So, take time, love, and patience to guide him,

For unlike the snow, a child will not melt.

--Rhonda Shure

(originally written 12-20-1979)