"Peace"

I woke this morning with an image in my thoughts and a word resting quietly on my heart.
Some of my favorite memories as a child are falling asleep with anticipation that the subtle flurries of snow that began falling during dinner would be a covered winter wonderland upon waking the next morning.  There is a silence that only comes after a heavy snowfall. Before my feet ever touched the floor the next morning, I knew the world was covered in a blanket of white. It was a silence like no other; the world was resting, and the quiet was a welcome blessing. The dawn of a new day wrapped in a blanket of white is glorious. Before tire tracks cut through the streets, before plows scrape the roads, before footprints scatter the surface or the soot of the day settles in, there is a stillness. A glaring, gentle blanket that cleanses the air, silences the noise, and coats all of creation with a fresh canvas.
“He sends the snow like white wool; he scatters frost upon the ground like ashes.” Psalm 147:16

There is a peace that settles in that moment. The kind of peace that doesn’t announce itself with booming fireworks but hushes everything it touches. Light dances across the snow as the sun rises, and for a moment, the world feels calm and bright.
What a beautiful image for the dawn of a new year.

The earth blanketed in white. Life momentarily slowed—a holy hush. A blank canvas given, not earned, not manufactured, not rushed. Peace. A place where the spirit rests, sheltered beneath the grit and glory of God’s grace.

Scripture reminds us that peace is not something we create through control or productivity, but something we receive:
“The Lord bless you and keep you;
the Lord make His face shine on you and be gracious to you;
the Lord turn His face toward you and give you peace.” Numbers 6:24–26

Peace is always a gift. It descends like snow; quietly, gently, fully; covering what was worn, fractured, or weary beneath it.
Helen Keller once said:
‘I do not want the peace which passeth understanding, I want the understanding which bringeth peace.”

True peace is not the absence of movement or noise, but the presence of God covering our restless hearts with His nearness and His Holy Spirit.
So my blank page for 2026 opens with the image of a blanket of snow and a single word: PEACE. Neither can be bought. Neither can be manufactured. Neither can be forced into existence.

Both are given—freely—by the Giver of life.
And perhaps the invitation of this new year is not to rush to make our mark on the snow or in the blank pages of a new calendar, but to linger in the quiet a little longer, breathing in the stillness, resting in a holy hush and receiving the peace that only God can give.
Happy New Year!

May you see the goodness of God and the glory of His hand in all the days of your life in 2026! Because when you look for it, when you find it, when you remember it, there you will find the presence of peace!