first snowflakes

Remember the first time you made a snowflake?  The magic of turning a piece of paper into an intricate design of wintry wonder?  Okay, maybe I was a little more obsessed with snowflakes than the average person.  I had never seen one.

My first encounter with snow was miraculous.

It was during a visit to my grandparents house.  The entire week I was glued to the weather channel.  Would they predict snow today?  Tomorrow?  "Please God, may I have this one thing?  May I have a white Christmas?"

It was looking bleak.  No snow in the forecast.  I felt desolate, resigning my dream of a white Christmas.

Christmas Eve came.  Sparkling frost covered each blade of grass.  I dragged my parents outside so they could see.  It was average to them, "just frost".  To me, it was a promise.

The next morning, my little prayer was answered.

White dust covered the ground.  I had never seen anything so beautiful.  The dust grew to small white blankets.  Just enough for building a small snowman.  Of course, a snowball fight or two as well.

I didn't last long in my ill-equipped clothing.  The snowball in my rain-boot melted into a freezing, sloshing puddle.  I shivered.  I've never been good with the cold.

Every winter, when curling under a blanket by the heater, I watch the snowflakes fall.  I ponder the lingering memory of God's answer to a silly little prayer.  Then I know, the one who knows the number of hairs on my head, cares about everything.  Even little dreams.