We had SNOW on Friday. At the end of a hard, sorrowful week following my mother-in-law’s death, we awoke to Houston blanketed in white-velvet gorgeousness. We squealed. We hit each other with snowballs. We built hideous last-minute snowmen before heading to school once the district sent out the world’s saddest tweet: Roads are passable so buses are rolling. See you soon for a great day of learning.
I gave a half-smile to heaven as we drove through our snow-bedecked neighborhood and said, “Thank you. Yes, she would have loved this.”
Amazing grace sparkled everywhere in a city still climbing out of the flood that swamped us. Houstonians have laughed and laughed that in just a six-week span we whooped it up for the World Series and scampered about in uncommon snow. We’re waiting for pigs to go airborne any minute now.
But I think we also have a tenderness of heart that prompts a deep savoring of Christmas and a fresh view of a familiar story. Continue reading “the grace of uncommon snow and average joe”