An Invitation In The Snow

“Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool.” — Isaiah 1:18

I'm not really sure where to begin.

Last weekend was… breathtaking. Unexpectedly holy. Beautifully undone.

It was my second time being part of my sister’s women’s retreat, and I don’t take that lightly. She’s poured so much into building a space where women can come away, be real, and meet Jesus in the middle of their mess. And this time, I got to serve. I got to play a part in something sacred.

Six of us drove up the mountain together on Thursday—me, my sister, my mom, and three other amazing women—to this stunning cabin in Big Bear. The sun was warm, almost like it was smiling down on us. We unpacked, set up rooms, prayed over beds, and laughed until we cried. That night, the six of us gathered and worshipped in a little circle, just the start of what would become a weekend full of tears, healing, freedom, and joy.

I kept whispering prayers to God as we prepped—specifically about Saturday’s activity, a “Date with Jesus” that my mom and I had planned. I asked Him, Lord, make it sunny. Make it 70. Let it be perfect.

And in my head, I knew what perfect looked like.

Friday morning tried to throw me off. The letters I had painstakingly written for the women’s boxes were off—some missing, some names spelled wrong (which, to a perfectionist like me, is basically the worst thing ever.) I got flustered. But God, in His grace, had already placed people like Carissa in my life, and she helped me pivot. We found a printer in town, reprinted what was missing, and kept it moving.

Then the women started arriving. One by one. And with each hug, each suitcase rolled in, I felt the anticipation grow. God was going to move.

Saturday came. Our big day.

This "Date with Jesus" activity… it had been on my heart for weeks. My mom and I prayed over every word, every detail, every box that would be handed out. It was meant to be intimate. Quiet. Outside. A moment between each woman and Jesus. In my mind, that looked like sunshine, warmth, light wind. But God had something else in mind.

Snow.

And not just flurries. A downpour of snow.

I could’ve panicked. But I didn’t. None of us did.

Instead, we leaned into it.

Wrapped in blankets and boots, these women walked one by one out to the cross. And there, they picked up a box—their box. A love letter from Jesus. A picture. A word that was meant just for them.

What could’ve felt like a disruption became the most beautiful invitation. An invitation to slow down. To notice. To surrender control and receive whatever God had for them—even in the cold, even in the unexpected.

Watching them walk through the snow—through what could’ve been an obstacle—only made it more profound. It was like God was saying, Even here, I’ll meet you. Even when the plan changes. Especially when the plan changes.

Later that day, Carissa turned to me and asked if I would share my testimony. And y’all—I’ve never done that. Not like that. But something in me said yes.

And that moment—raw, vulnerable, unrehearsed—was a line in the sand for me.

Not because I told the perfect story, but because I stopped hiding it. I let grace pour out of me. I remembered how far God has brought me. And I realized how much more He still wants to do.

I’ll share that story soon.

But for now, I just want to say—God doesn’t just meet us in the calm. He meets us in the change. In fact, sometimes He allows the change because He knows that’s when we’ll truly look up. That’s when we’ll see Him most clearly.

My Prayer:

Jesus,

Thank You for showing up in ways we never expected. Thank You for the snow, for the stillness, for the reminders that You are in every detail—even the ones we didn’t plan. Help us trust You more. Help us lean in when things don’t look like what we imagined. And most of all, thank You for being the kind of God who writes personal love letters to our hearts. We love You. We trust You. Use us. In Jesus’ name,

Amen.