On an icy night this week I pulled into my driveway, exhausted, with an angry toddler in the backseat. My child was what my brother-in-law calls “strippin’ mad” — that state of fury where very young children just start tearing off their clothes, throwing things, and running.
As I sat in the front seat trying to compose my own tumultuous mind, what to my wondering eyes should appear but the shape of my husband hurrying down the sidewalk to help. I almost wept with relief.
He quickly opened the back seat and said, “Don’t worry, I’ve got her.” “OK,” I said, “But be careful, she doesn’t have any shoes on. You can’t put her down.” He gave me a curious look and said, “I see. It’s fine. Come in the house.”
I gathered my last-minute shopping bags, purse, diaper bag, and what was left of my sanity and struggled out of the car and up the snowy walk behind my family.
It was then that I saw the footprints.
Merry Christmas to all, and may each of you find and offer selfless love, this season and throughout the year.