Seeing the snow.

At 7pm the snow starts to fall, flake by flake, by 8pm a thin layer of snow has shimmered over the ground, hedges , grass and cars. In the street lamps a steady falling of light gentle snowflakes falling falling like a childhood wish on Christmas eve.

''If it snows there will be no school tomorrow'', ''we will get home early'' and the TV news warns of pending havoc on the roads. The night goes on and sleep comes with contented hope of a day off. During the night snow turns to rain, snapping on my window pane until in the morning the glistening white has turned to slush and the hope of the night betrays the realisation of a dark Irish winter school morning.

By Sunday it is cold, snow has fallen again, not many people venture out to church. A crooked figure appears at the steps of the church, dressed in woollen hat and slight jacket old jeans and boots. He takes the steps and settling at the top places a shoddy cardboard with string around his neck, 'help please, homeless' ,using a discarded paper coffee cup he begs.

For that one person emotion is stirred, 'he shouldn't be there' 'how dare he beg' ' he probably has more money than us' 'once we let one person beg they'll all come'

Silently we make our way into church, the organ plays its tunes we sing pray and listen, we worship God.

The snow came in the night and beautifully covered the earth, by morning it was gone.
We turned up for church, came in and showed nothing of ourselves passing by a stranger on the steps and then he was gone.
Somehow we believe that we are better than him and he shouldn't be there, and yet with all our faults we entered church as of right while we pass him on the steps.
'Help Please homeless'.
What if our position was scratchily written on cardboard but we have found some way to hide it and never show the real us.

We enter church because we can, because God accepts us whatever our particular cardboard sign may say. Silently we miss the beauty of a snow covered earth in the night and silently we miss the beauty of grace as walk past the very person whose life is laid bare for all to see. Simply because we are too stubborn to give, too pious to accept and forget that we are nothing and God only makes us everything.