First frost

Today was the first real hard frost, the kind where the frost coats everything thick enough to last past the first rays of light. In fact, it was still sparkling when I loaded the kids up for carpool to elementary school. For them, it was magical. They ran around, shuffling their feet through the icy grass, shrieking about Jack Frost until I had to yell at them to get in the car.

It reminded me how quick kids are to believe in the magical and miraculous. They don’t just believe it, they look for it. There is so much in the world they don’t understand yet, and they leap to explain it through fairies, Santa, Jack Frost and general miraculous wonder.

Then they get older, and learn that Old Saint Nick and his reindeer aren’t real and frost is just frozen condensation. . . and they (or, we) stop looking. Instead of finding the magical and miraculous, we look for explanations—and we think we do a pretty good job.

But there are still miracles all around us. The miracle of forgiveness, of grace, of the Incarnation, and the tiny gifts God gives us that don’t mean anything to anyone but us. This Advent, I’m going to try to remember to look for those, and believe.

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