“…but this year it’s different for you and for me. Our own little miracle on our own little street. “
What a year. What a Christmas. What priceless, precious miracles. Sometimes I miss the forest for the trees so-to-speak. The miracles right in front of me. Somehow, this year has been different. So in the interest of noticing. Of being grateful. Of being present, I thought I’d share some of our miracles. Here’s one:
A couple of months ago Bridger said, “If the choice was London or Denver for Christmas, you’d definitely want to choose Denver! London is RUBISH for Christmas!” Some questioning revealed that the main factor was weather. As far as Bridger was concerned who in their right mind would want to spend Christmas in the rain instead of the snow?!
A week and a half ago a drive through the country to a friend’s house included a going through what is usually dubbed, “The Green Tunnel.” A gorgeous canopy of trees and shrubs trimmed to make a perfectly shaped tunnel. Bridger said, “Imagine if it were snowing. Then this would be the white tunnel, and that would be paradise!” Bridger told our friend that day, “It’s going to snow. I can FEEL it.” We all tried to be kind, but were gearing up for his heartache. But the next day, on our way home from an epic trek through the local woods we watched the first of the snowflakes fall. A miracle. Snow in London. Good ol’ ‘rubbish weather’ London. Not just a few wet flakes either, but what our English friends appropriately called ‘proper snow!’ Complete and utter joy filled the Anderberg house. A white Christmas in England!
When I asked B about it later he replied, “Yeah. I asked. I wrote it in my note to Santa. I bet Santa went to the Lord and said, ‘Hey Lord? Do you think we could do that for Bridge?’ and the Lord said, “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
I’m guessing that’s exactly how it went down, and I sure am grateful.