I am not a fan of snow. I don't terribly mind it but I hate the inconvenience of it. The messy roads. The way it affects my very fashionable boots. The dirt that is tracked into the house and all over my hardwood floors. And the shoveling of the driveway. I don't have a particularly large driveway but it's big enough to fit about five cars and for a party of one, that's a pretty big task at the end of a busy day. But snow it did on Thursday...not very much...but enough to require the shoveling of the driveway.
This past work week was a little unusual. I think holiday weeks in general are more slow paced. Many people take the week off and the mood for those that are working is festive. Holiday parties and open houses are quite the norm. My week was unusual because I got to spend it with a seven- year-old.
One of the perks of my job is that it offers a very flexible environment. So, when my friend needed someone to watch her daughter over school break, it was generally understood that she is welcome at my office. Anyone that knows this seven-year-old knows she is not just any seven-year-old. She is exceptional on many fronts. Not only does she fully understand the chronic illness her mother lives with, but she has taken on this cause as her own, volunteering many hours in many ways. And thus, my office, she says, is her office and she loves coming to work. She has a desk that she has claimed as her own and she is as comfortable inside the setting of these four walls as I am. She should be...she's been coming here for the past five years. I've seen her blossom from an adorable two-year- old to a beautiful seven-year-old wise beyond her years but very much possessing the playfulness that she should at her young age. It's an interesting contrast to see because to have a conversation with this young lady is an experience in and of itself. She talks with the wisdom of someone four times her age and in the next breath she giggles with all the innocence she possesses in her soul.
This seven-year-old recently named me her Godmother. Yes, I know that's not how it normally happens, but she asked me, very matter of fact, "can you be my Godmother because my Godmother died." I know the duties of a Godmother because I once named one for my child. This is not an invitation I take lightly. Agree to it I do because you don't say no to something that God is directing.
Knowing that I am her "godmother" this seven-year-old seems to have a whole new appreciation and dare I say, love for me. It has filled my heart in countless ways. As I have seen my own son grow into a young man that I am very proud of, I have seen him bond with this child as well. He accepts her as part of our family and this means, according to my new Goddaughter, that he is her "God brother." One of the things I am most proud of is my son's ability to accept people no matter their life circumstances. He judges no one and holds no prejudice. He, for all intents and purposes and according to today's society, has lived a privileged life. That may be very true, but he also understands that everyone has a journey, we are all children of God, and we all have a responsibility to do the best we can for each other. These are traits he shares with his new God sister and so I believe that both her and her mom were placed in our lives in a divine manner.
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Thus, my Goddaughter and I spent the week at my office. She working at her desk and playing school in our conference room; me accomplishing what I can in between the questions that come from her. We enjoyed Panera Bread for lunch every day and we got to have very interesting conversations during this time about many things. School, Christmas, her siblings and step siblings, Santa and Jesus. Knowing the roads were a little messy on Thursday, I thought we should leave the office and meet her mom at my house. It would be easier for her mom and I would get home to shovel the driveway earlier. My Goddaughter totally agreed and said to me "that's a really good idea. Let's go slow and be safe." Good advice, I thought!
We approach my house and I pull into my garage. As we get out of the car I ask her if she wants to help me shovel. I was joking...sort of...because I didn't really think a seven-year-old could master a shovel. But, she was very enthusiastic about it...far more enthusiastic than me...and far be it for me to dampen her spirit.
We set out about the work at hand...she at the top of the driveway and me at the bottom. While I labored over it trying to get it done as quickly as possible, she was laughing, asking me to watch her, approaching the task very meticulously. If she missed a spot, she went back and got it. If the pile she was making somehow fell, she went back and fixed it. She giggled when she slipped and fell and got right back up again to finish her chore. When we met in the middle she very readily told me she would finish. Her mom arrived and she wanted her mother to wait until she was done "working" before they left. She exclaimed multiple time that she was having so much fun. And her mom and I watched in amusement as she conquered the use of the shovel and the clearing of the driveway.
Later that night as I went outside to turn the holiday lights off, I looked at my driveway, nice and clean, and in wonder that something that delighted a seven-year-old caused much anxiety in me. There was a time when I loved snow. When I was a seven year old, perhaps. I remember sledding, ice skating, building snowmen...and enjoying all these activities with my own child. Somewhere along the way I lost the beauty and the wonder of this magical gift from Mother Nature. Adulting is like that at times. We forget to enjoy all the wonders of life and become so focused on what we must accomplish that we don't always see the beauty of that which is in front of us.
I remember how much this young lady laughed as she set about the "work" of clearing the driveway and I thought to myself...why could I not view it this way? The snow is beautiful, actually. The purity of it; the way it sparkles against the streetlights and the colors of the holiday lights that adorn my house; the familiar crunch under my feet; and the way my dog delights in it as she runs through the yard sticking her nose in it time and time again and jumping up in what seems to be pure delight.
I stared at the snow a little longer, took in the crispness of the air, and decided to leave the holiday lights on for all those that happen to be driving by to enjoy. Yes, life is full of wonder and reminders of that come every day. I want to embrace the wonder. I hope that when I fall into a funk, I remember the day I shoveled snow with a seven-year-old.
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