An Event That Changed My Life
Open your eyes. Let the music surround you and indulge. But don't let it
blind you. We must stay alert and strong. You can take them, for they are the
weak. Find the source; he is there if you look, if you accept, if you are open.
For the act of closing is futile. You cannot see his heart, but you can feel
The children run out into the new day to find the bitter cold exciting. When
tucked into their warm beds, the world was dreaming. They dread the next day,
waiting for the arrival of the school bus. But when they awoke to the whiteness,
the pureness, a sort of childish bliss swept through them, for this kind of
happiness is only felt with the drifting in of snow and the voice of the radio
announcer declaring a day off of studies.
Mothers curse the administrators, insiting the weather shouldn't stop the daily
study of knowledge. Fathers curse the plow trucks for their hectic ride into
work that awaits before them. But the children open their eyes to see the
miracle, little as it may seem. The children hesitate not, for at any moment
they know it may melt away, like their past. The snowmen are created as if God
had sprinkled a little of his miracle in each of their tiny hands. Snowballs
are thrown playfully by young boys, showing their "masculinity" to the girls who
giggle at their "immiturity." No one notices the shadow. She walks through,
smiling to herself at the past she barely can recall. The angelic music of her
past plays to herself. She wonders if the children themselves can hear the
songs of the angels. She just then realizes that they are the angles.