Couple walking through a snow-covered road, Sweden, 1940.
Every Christmas Eve in New York I would steal occasional moments on the sun porch in anticipation of the one thing that would set my heart aglow: falling snowflakes. How excited I’d be to see one, then another — fluttering blessings of crystallized delight.
It was the joyous anticipation of a child — hoping to discover in the glow of the streetlight a parade of dancing snowflakes. Gently, they landed on the sidewalk and grass, some lingering; others kissing and letting go.
Momentarily, my parents’ eyes would brighten and tranquility would alight. Then the reality of rock salt and shovels and other adult concerns of snow and ice intruded.
I want to see every Christmas through the eyes of childlike wonder and anticipation of something magical and mystical that only God can give.
Wherever you are, may peace and joy be your gifts this season and always.
I leave you with my favorite poem, “Velvet Shoes,” by Elinor Wylie. Reciting it brings the scene alive.
Let us walk in the white snow
In a soundless space;
With footsteps quiet and slow,
At a tranquil pace,
Under veils of white lace.
I shall go shod in silk,
And you in wool,
White as white cow’s milk,
Than the breast of a gull.
We shall walk through the still town
In a windless peace;
We shall step upon white down,
Upon silver fleece,
Upon softer than these.
We shall walk in velvet shoes:
Wherever we go
Silence will fall like dews
On white silence below.
We shall walk in the snow.
Photo: Life Photo Archive, Carl Mydans