"To drive the cold winter away..."

When I was young, I looked forward to the snow. Lots of it. Up to my knees. School was out, and the world stood still, covered in its white blanket. What a time we had -- breaking free, treading upon the stillness.

It only takes growing up to lose the magic. Now I have to go to work, trudging to the subway station, fighting the crowds who decide not to drive. Sooner or later, I have to dig my own car out of its burial place, only to discover upon moving that I could use a complete set of new tires. Even when the weather is bad enough that the government offices shut down, I sit at home and hope the power doesn't go out.

But tonight I'll brave the elements and take the road to Baltimore, for there is dancing to be done. At least the child in me has that much to look forward to. My new friend Beth is coming along, so we'll be a "carpool." Like me, Beth is from Cincinnati. Not only that, but she started folk dancing there after I left back in '80, so we know many of the same people. Meeting people from one's hometown, particularly for those of us in the Midwest, is like a gathering of kindred spirits. We'll catch up on who is doing what, and with whom.

It is an especially good thing for the ride home. The long drive after the music has stopped has been a lonely one of late, but for the sound of a friendly voice.

Was it Therese of Lisieux who said God could be found in the little things?