The blow of the fan whispers quietly, but fails to cover up the sounds of the cars splashing through the street puddles as they drive by. I stare out the window for a few minutes, watching the snowflakes glow in the faint street lights, and the night air breathes in and out smoothly, only noticeable in the slight drift of these snowflakes. For whatever reason, I get the strange urge to count them, but I know I never could. I feel like that snowflake. That one right there. Yes. Like one of a million. Try to count my crowd and there’s a good chance you’ll just skip over me.
Ask me why I feel like this and I wouldn’t be able to give you a straight answer. I guess it just comes down to this: I’m lonely. That’s okay, though. These nights come every now and then. I think God made us crave companionship, we were made for it, like how we were meant to live in community, seeking that sort of love to completely surround us in every way. So yes, I am lonely.
This night was made for you to hold my hand. I know relief from this state is coming quickly, though. I am not worried. I simply must wait. And believe.
You know that snowflake that drifts down softly, lands perfectly on your sleeve, drawing your attention? You look at it and realize that it just might be the most beautiful snowflake you’ve ever seen. It’s the snowflake that makes you realize that all of it is just completely beautiful and far more breathtaking than what you were thinking in the first place.
I want to be that snowflake. But until I land on somebody’s sleeve someday, I will just be a part of the beautiful crowd drifting to the ground where I’ll find my feet planted in good company. And I will rest. Yes. This is where I’ll wait.
I will wait.
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