I am a winter person. I feel the most comfortable, peaceful, and cozy in the wintertime, when the snow covers the ground, the touch of holidays are in the air, and people slow down a bit more (well, most do). Being in your home with Christmas music playing, the tree’s lights sparkling, while snow flurries down to the ground is perfectly enjoyable. There’s just something about winter. Perhaps because we have no snow for most of the year and then snow comes after being gone for so long and the reunion is gaiety in our hearts.

Yesterday morning, we walked to church-we have walked to church for the past two years since we live right next to it- but as we walked, it was lightly snowing, the ground was fresh with packable white snow, and our little country church stood just a few yards away. It was so quite, as no cars were coming. Then we looked down the road, and our dear neighbors (who have just lost a loving father, husband, and grandfather) were walking also to church. I felt like I was in Road to Avonlea, where people walked to church in the wintertime, all bundled up and ready to get warm in the little church where others were bustling for the morning service.

Isn’t it the most wonderful time of the year?