White-gray snow still covers patches of our backyard. The time to celebrate Jesus’ birth draws near. Wrapped gifts sit in the family room, ready to give to those we want to bless. The externals of Christmas are prepared.
The other morning, I peeked out our window at o’dark hundred. The weak glow of the nearby street attempted to cut through the fog on our street. A couple hours later, I drove four active children to school in soft sunlight and no fog in our neighborhood. As I drove, I glanced toward the mountains.
As a girl, almost every time I saw still water, I peeked my head over one edge, with the hope of seeing my reflection mirrored back at me. Puddles in the sidewalk, quiet ponds and rivers . . . they all drew me to their sides. I loved seeing blue sky or trees in the background behind my face. Watching the water ripple with a breeze or a falling leaf or a fish kissing the surface and disrupting the reflection always fascinated me.