By Ashlie Miller
Last week’s white dusting either met you with delight or an eye-roll. “Marked safe during snowmageddon,” quipped some on social media. “A real snow has to be at least 3 inches,” I heard another say. Yes, quite true, not a real snow. Yet, like many mothers, I awoke early enough to lay out snow clothes – a thick coat, snow bibs worn only a couple of times even before they became hand-me-downs, layers of socks, and water-resistant gloves. The night before, I had grabbed some discounted chocolate croissants at the local grocery bakery. This would be just the refreshment needed to begin our December, and yes, it would be a “snow day,” or at least until it melted by lunchtime. We are homeschoolers, after all.
I stepped into my children’s rooms and slowly pulled back the window shade, asking them to lift themselves enough out of bed to spy out the frosted window panes. Confusion – “I thought you had put white cotton balls outside! – collided with delight – “Can we go out now?!” They were eager to make snow cream, snow angels, snow forts, and snowballs and go sledding, so they scurried to pile on clothing, coats, and boots. Mind you, it had been 1038 days (depending on whose count you rely upon) – so memory was distant and faded of exactly the quality and quantity needed for each activity. “I hope it stays until Christmas!” soon became replaced with “I hope it lasts until tomorrow!”
I took the youngest adventure-seekers out into the woods because we know that Narnia is out there when it snows. Treasures always await us in even the lightest blanket of snow. Everything looks more mysterious and magical. That walk did not disappoint. Little brother wanted to hit things covered in snow to watch it drift whimsically upon himself and the ground. Big sister wanted to be surrounded by untouched snow, so her aggravation with a wriggly brother was understandable.
Upon returning back to our warm abode, realization of how precious and “like a breath” this snow really was hit hard. As I went inside to prepare warm nourishment, a downcast little boy soon came in looking much forlorn. “It’s already melting,” he said in a somber tone. So sad, he could not be coaxed to go back outside.
Something so beautiful, long-awaited, and refreshing was now gone. Anticipation has a way of doing that to us, doesn’t it? Once the waiting is over and the event arrives, do you ever feel sad, asking yourself, “What do I do now?” Last year, I felt the weight of that immensely. It made me read the passages in Scripture differently when the disciples had to say “goodbye” to their greatest friend – Jesus. Somehow, I more closely resonate.
Although Advent reminds us of God coming to earth in a tiny, perfect, human form, it also reminds us of another anticipation we have as Christians – the return of Christ. And unlike our earthly anticipations that, once met, still leave us wanting, this will be perfect inhabitation in a perfect world forever with our Creator and Savior. It will no longer “always be winter but never Christmas,” as Mr. Tumnus the faun tells Lucy in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. What a blissful, most wonderful time of life that will be!
Ashlie Miller and her family make the most of snow, rain puddles, and rainbows in Concord, NC. You may contact her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.
