jesus was a raindrop

i stood at our second-story sink, looking out the window as the sky darkened, yet the world turned white.

i watched as the snow, all but coming down in buckets, still seemed as if it was floating effortlessly to its final resting place on our window sills and windshields. i thought how so often, i am a snowflake. i never know where i'm going to wind up; am at the mercy of the wind or the other million snowflakes falling and blowing and competing for a place in the shadows.

but rain, rain is different. its as if each drop is well intentioned in its fall. it is purposed-- it's purpose is to meet with the ground as soon as it can. it knows exactly where it is headed, does not detour. i bet jesus was a raindrop.

i want to be more like jesus. but shouldn't i be content to be a snowflake? limitless, and unbound by society (but not the rebellious ones that froze up and made the better half of nashville a giant slip-n-slide for traffic; albeit with one of the longest lines recorded); shouldn't i relish in not being constrained by obligations, yet knowing still being aware of, and fulfilling, my priorities?

after all, the snow melts. and the same molecules are left, exactly where they were intended to be.