So oddly enough, I never saw myself writing stories or having a blog. It wasn’t part of my everyday. In fact, I avoided it—until I couldn’t.

In high school, there was this World Literature class that felt like a much bigger deal than “just another class.” Especially the final. I could handle questions and tests. Essays—timed essays—that’s where I knew I needed the most help.

So I prayed, God, what should I do for this essay? The idea—the story—came to my mind so quickly I could barely write it down fast enough.

God didn’t meet me in something obviously convenient or life-changing. He met me at a desk in high school, just a girl trying to ace a final. Yet in that moment, I felt something extraordinary. I felt a part of me realizing that I want to write, to tell stories, and to be with God in everything. Because His ordinary is so much more.

With that said, here is that first story—that first moment of God in the ordinary for me. It is a heavy story dealing with the real bitterness and cruelty of this world, but it also shows how His Beauty, His Love, can overtake anything and make it white as snow.

Content note: This story includes violence, implied abuse, and spiritual manipulation. Please read gently and only as you’re able.

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Nieve

A long time ago there was a village that did not know of snow. The days were either bright and beautiful or dark and ugly. In this village there lived a lovely girl with light gray eyes. When the light shined on them, her eyes became a glistening white. Her name was Kara-Neva.

When Kara-Neva was a little girl, the village she lived in went through a famine. She prayed to God to save her village and, in return, she promised to live like she was His—to live and be ready as His bride. She knew He would save her town and sweep her off her feet.

God held His end of the promise and the village was saved. Immediately, Kara-Neva applied herself to her end of the promise. She loved God with all of her heart and helped others do the same. Even at the age of thirteen, when other girls were preparing themselves to find an ideal husband, Kara-Neva danced in Church. She declared that no man shall have her but God.

“Silly Kara-Neva, that can never happen. The Church is God’s bride; how can a girl like you be God’s bride?” the other girls would laugh.

“God keeps His promises. So do I.” Kara-Neva would reply with dreamy eyes and a wistful smile. The girls would laugh at her even more. Her closest friend became a white sparrow she saw around the village. It sang as she danced in the Church.

When Kara-Neva turned sixteen, the age of marriage, she was as beautiful as the sunset with the moon for eyes. Every man wanted her, but Kara-Neva would refuse any proposal that came.

“Kara-Nevita, why do you refuse every proposal?” her mother would cry.

“I’m God’s bride, Mama. One day He’ll come and sweep me up to be with Him,” Kara-Neva assured her mother.

“But that is a child’s dream. He won’t come till a long time, mija,” her mother said.

“Then I’ll have a heart of a child and the patience of the elders.” Kara-Neva would reply, laughing as she danced while the white sparrow sang. Everyone could see that she would not let go of her promise, and they stopped proposing to her.

One day, a foreign warrior came to the village. He was rich, handsome, strong, and went to their church, appearing to be a perfect man. But appearances cannot always hide a pitch-black heart filled with selfishness and greed. When Kara-Neva saw this warrior courting her friends, she saw his appearance for what it was. She took her friends from him.

“Kara-Neva, what’s wrong? He is the perfect man for us! Why would you take us away?” her friends asked.

“He is a wolf, not a man,” Kara-Neva said gravely. As usual, her friends wrote her off as a foolish woman who clung to a childish promise. But the warrior did not write her off. Her beauty, her dancing, astounded him. He became determined to win her over and make her his wife.

He searched for her house and asked to stay there for his visit. Kara-Neva’s parents accepted his stay, but Kara-Neva warned her parents about the wolfish warrior. They, too, wrote her off as a foolish woman holding onto childish dreams.

The warrior believed winning Kara-Neva would be as easy as winning any other girl. Yet as the days went by, she was indifferent to his attempts. He asked her parents for the reason of her indifference. They told him of Kara-Neva’s dream and promise.

“Ha! That is a child’s dream. God wouldn’t care about a child’s promise. And God says that the man is a woman’s head; therefore she needs me.” The warrior laughed with a charming smirk. Kara-Neva heard his attitude about her promise.

“I promised to be what I was made to be, His Bride. He sees me. He will come for me,” Kara-Neva stated before leaving to dance in the Church once more.

A few days later, the warrior asked for Kara-Neva’s hand in marriage. Everyone encouraged her to accept his proposal. She did not.

“I cannot let you be my head, for only God is my heart,” Kara-Neva refused with a gentle but stern voice. The warrior grew red with rage.

“You would refuse me!” the warrior yelled in anger. Everyone was taken aback. “Is it because of that senseless promise? God would want you to marry me. He said, ‘Be fruitful and multiply.’” he said, gaining his composure.

“God has also said to let my ‘yes’ be ‘yes’ and my ‘no’ be ‘no’. I have said yes to Him and no to you.” Kara-Neva said, determination burning in her eyes. The warrior saw that he couldn’t convince Kara-Neva.

“Then I say no to your no. I will be back and you will be mine,” the warrior vowed. He left town that same day. The villagers shook their heads at Kara-Neva. Once again she was a foolish woman with a child’s heart.

“Then may God dance and laugh with me as children do,” Kara-Neva said as she danced in the Church again.

A few days later, an ear-splitting battle cry raged over the village. The warrior and his comrades stood on top of a hill, ready to destroy the village. When they began to charge, the villagers panicked. Some ran into their houses. Others went to protect their young ones. Only a few went down to their knees and cried for God—one being Kara-Neva as she danced in the Church.

That is where the warrior found her. He grabbed Kara-Neva. “I’ll show you what your promise really means to God,” the warrior spat at her.

“God is my heart. He is my yes,” Kara-Neva repeated.

In his anger, the warrior inflicted pain beyond words onto Kara-Neva. He believed that the white crystal tears that fell from Kara-Neva’s eyes were his prize. So with his prize now achieved, he left her on the Church floor.

Kara-Neva shook on the floor. Pain, loss, and anger weighed her body there, until she heard the mournful and sorrowful song of her white sparrow. Shakily, she stood.

“One more dance, my Love, my heart, my God,” Kara-Neva whispered. So as the sparrow sang and more white crystal tears fell, she danced—until death came over her.

The warrior watched from afar as Kara-Neva fell. With satisfaction, he and his comrades left the village, believing he had destroyed what could not be his. As they started their way home, white frozen tears fell from the sky.

The tears that fell from the sky reminded him of Kara-Neva’s tears. This put a wicked smile on his face. “Look what your promise has done, Kara-Neva!” the warrior yelled triumphantly.

The warrior and his comrades continued on, but the tears began to pile up. The wind howled as if it was in pain, and the tears whipped harshly against the warrior. This blinded them, and the warrior fell in a hole. His comrades tried to take him out, but they could not, for the tears made the ground and their gear slippery.

They left the warrior in the hole because the tears from the sky began to fall faster, and the wind howled louder. The warrior began to become consumed by the cold of the wind and the darkness of the hole. Then he saw the white sparrow Kara-Neva danced with coming towards him.

“The pain you have given, you must now receive,” the sparrow chirped. When the sparrow left, the wind howled louder, burying the warrior and his angry screams.

The comrades heard the warrior’s yell on top of the hill. When they turned around, all they saw between them and the village was a pure white, unblemished blanket that covered everything in still beauty. They and the village people named the white tears El Nieve.

There are two things that are certain from this legend. The warrior’s scream can still be heard in the wind of a snowstorm—but do not be afraid. For even if the wind screams, the snow will still dance and sweep away all in its beauty, just as Kara–Neva did when she danced with her white sparrow.

I will betroth you to Me forever; Yes, I will betroth you to Me, In righteousness and justice, In lovingkindness and mercy; I will betroth you to Me in faithfulness, And you shall know the Lord.” — Hosea 2:19–20 (NKJV)