Snow angels

by Jennifer Graf Groneberg (Subscribe to Jennifer Graf Groneberg's posts) Dec 13th 2007 11:00AM

Last night while we were sleeping, the snow fell and fell and fell, and in the morning we woke to a fresh white blanket covering the porch, the walkway, the gravel drive. The snow looked so clean and bright it was impossible not to feel light and full of good cheer: Bennett pressed his nose to the window and said, in the happiest voice possible, "Look, Mom, it's snow!"

After breakfast, we all crammed into the mudroom and began the task of matching each child to a coat and mittens and a hat, which always seems to take longer than it should. There was a hold-up with the boots (as Carter remarked, "We have enough shoes to open a store!") but eventually, everyone found the right combination and we headed out into the great, fluffy whiteness.

Outside, the boys began sledding and making snowmen and building a fort all at once. Eating snow and tossing it in the air and throwing it at each other, and me, with all the exuberance of childhood. Every snow-related thing must be done, and done today!

Bennett dragged a stick behind him, making tracks like the boy in the Ezra Jack Keats book, The Snowy Day. Avery and Carter dropped down to the ground and I wanted to warn, "Get up! You'll catch a chill!" Until I realized they were making snow angels--a big one from Carter and a little one nearby, Avery. Bennett joined in, too, each boy making angels and more angels, a mommy and a daddy and children. The family grew to include grandmas and grandpas, aunts and uncles, cousins, friends. Soon, there were angels everywhere.

Avery lost a mitten and frowned and tromped over to me and hugged my legs. I bent down, sat in the snow, and scooped him into my lap. His cheeks were rosy and I could see the little puffs of his breath hanging in the frosty air.

People sometimes say Avery is an angel.

I studied him, thinking about it. His eyes are blue like mine and his brothers', but they are a deeper blue. The white flecks in his irises are called Brushfield spots, and other children with Down syndrome sometimes have them, too. I'm reminded of the expression, "The eyes are the windows to the soul." I don't know what that saying means, exactly--but I know that Avery has the prettiest eyes, framed by long, soft lashes. I wonder what he sees through his eyes; how it feels to be him. And I wonder the same about all of us: how it feels to be anyone else, each of us as different and unique as snowflakes.

When people tell me Avery is an angel, I smile and nod, because I don't know what to say. The Avery I know is a little boy who sometimes fakes a tantrum when he doesn't get his way, who sneaks crayons and draws pictures where he thinks I won't notice, such as on the inside of the kitchen cupboard or beneath the rug. He's also the boy who insists on giving me the first hug every morning, and he's the only child who willingly helps me unload the dishwasher or sort the clean socks.

But despite his many little-boy traits, there is something about Avery that reminds me of God. I can't say it's just a coincidence that the most wonderful people have come into my life because of Avery. I can't deny that when I'm holding him, or trailing behind him, the world opens up to us in a way that's different. All the times I'm told, of Avery, "He's a star!" or "He's a love!" or even, "He's an angel" by complete strangers. Doors are held, smiles shared. "Here, I saved you a cookie," from the bakery lady. I haven't figured it out, but I have stopped denying it.

There is struggle, too: Avery's, as he works to master things that take his brothers much less time to accomplish; and mine, as I learn how to be the mother he needs. Perhaps that's an integral part of it: with Avery, nothing is taken for granted.

It's begun snowing again, despite the sunshine. Little bits of white shimmer through the air; tiny rainbows of color that melt as soon as they touch your mitten, your cheek, your nose. The snow makes Avery laugh big belly laughs, all smiles, eyes shut, face lifted up toward the sky.

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Comments (19)

Reader Comments (Page 1 of 1)

Niksmom 12-13-2007 @ 9:08AM

Jennifer, this is beautiful. The images you paint with your words are so clear that I feel like I was right there watching.

"...big belly laughs, all smiles, eyes shut, face lifted up toward the sky. " I often see Nik do this for no apparent reason and I sometiems wonder of he sees things that I and others cannot -- as if there is a secret connection to God that only he has and they are sharing some great secret or story.

Hope you found the mitten...and enjoyed the snow yourself! :-)

jennifergrafgroneberg 12-13-2007 @ 12:30PM

Yes! Thank heavens for red mittens, that are easy to spot in the snow. And thank you for reading!

ELLIE 12-15-2007 @ 7:39PM

I am a 40 yo mother of a 16 year old and newly pregnant... As thrilled as I am with this blessing the fear is mind numbing... The biggest being the genetic risks to my new wonder. I had decided today to stop being so numbed with fear and do some research and found you, as I sit at my work comuter reading this I am smiling with tear stained cheeks and am so thankful for this journal that you have posted.. Thank you for sharing your words and heart , it has provided immense comfort for me ! opening your y

Special Needs Mama 12-13-2007 @ 1:00PM

Oh I loved The Snowy Day when I was a kid. Sadly, my born and bred in California daughter doesn't ever really understand it, although she demands every winter that we "go where it snows."

One of my favorite things to do as a child was to make snow angels. Just the act itself brought me closer to something--God or Spirit of simply the great, beautiful unknown.

jennifergrafgroneberg 12-13-2007 @ 11:07AM

Isn't that true? Maybe it's the simple act of calling these thoughts to us, of focusing on them. Thank you for reading!

Courtney 12-13-2007 @ 12:08PM

There is something magical about being outdoors especially when it snows. Snow angels were always a favorite and I can't wait until we get the snow here that you have there. Enjoy those boys, all of them are miracles and angels!

jennifergrafgroneberg 12-13-2007 @ 12:09PM

Yes Courtney, exactly. I'll keep my fingers crossed that you get your own snowy day soon!

randi 12-13-2007 @ 4:36PM

As a mother of one special needs child and one "typical" child I love to read your blogs. I don't know what it is about our "special" boys but I know that they make us all better mothers and people all the way around. I know that I have learned a new appreciation for everything. Thanks for writing.

jennifergrafgroneberg 12-13-2007 @ 4:54PM

Thank you for reading, randi. And I couldn't agree with you more.

Karen 12-13-2007 @ 3:51PM

You do write beautifully.

I too wonder if children are born with a special connection to God and wonder if some never lose that connection.

When my daughter was just over a year, she was unusually verbal. She used to call me into her room and tell me she was talking to Jesus and to angels and then she would describe her conversations so precisely. She would tell me to look and "couldn't I see?"

To be honest...it scared me. She was my first born and I had often heard stories of sick children that "talked to Jesus" just before they died and how they relayed messages of peace. She wasn't sick, but she so clearly was describing what she was seeing and conversations she had.

Then one day I was with my daughter and an elderly lady looked at her as audibly gasped. She said she saw "angels all around" my daughter. She stood staring at her and repeating herself. Again, I was slightly scared.

A little while later we drove a 3 hours trip home and there was a terrible storm all around us. But for the entire 3 hours we had a clear blue patch over our car. We saw rain in the distance our entire ride, and pitch black clouds all around. We even saw a small tornado, but not one drop of rain touched my car until I pulled into the driveway. My daughter said simply..."it was the angels mom!"

I stopped being scared.

And then one day...it stopped.

My daughter is still very spiritual and other people have taken notice, but she doesn't relay conversations or vividly describe images any more. And I often wonder about that connection children seem to have.

jennifergrafgroneberg 12-13-2007 @ 4:52PM

Karen, what an amazing story! You write beautifully, too! Thank you for sharing your experiences here.

kyra 12-13-2007 @ 9:35PM

so lovely. i love the image of all those snow angels. 'angels everywhere' you wrote. yes. it's true, isn't it?

Nelba Vercuil 12-14-2007 @ 6:43AM

Thanks for this beautiful post. I believe that angels are around us and that some people can see them. I think children maybe just accept the fact that they are visible more easily - like they do most things. I would be the last one to deny that our special children are angels, but they are certainly very human too! And I love that about them. By the way, we don't as a rule get snow in winter. Only very very occasionally. And our winter is in June. So, I envy you your "white Christmas". Enjoy!

kristen 12-14-2007 @ 7:12PM

Jennifer,
This piece is truly beautiful. I love reading about you and your boys. But I am also quite taken with the comments about the little girl who spoke to the angels. Remarkable, don't you think?

Thank you for sharing your stories with us. They are enlightening and uplifting and they leave me feeling safe and warm and happy.

jennifergrafgroneberg 12-14-2007 @ 7:59PM

Kristen, thank you for your comments! And if being Avery's mom has taught me anything, it's that the human spirit is much more complicated, and bigger, than I'd ever imagined. And Karen's story about her daughter makes me feel this even more.

Mel 12-18-2007 @ 11:56PM

Beautifully written. You are blessed with great insight and wisdom and I appreciate you sharing with us.

Claudia 12-18-2007 @ 10:56AM

Beautiful post as always, Jennifer. The first thing that came to my mind as I was reading this was a passage from the book Alcoholics Anonymous that reads, in part, "...for deep down, in every man, woman, and child, there is the fundamental idea of God. It may be obscured by calamity, by pomp, by worship of other things, but in some form or other it is there." And I was thinking that perhaps the God in some people is not so obscured by these things -- maybe for Avery, maybe for others, it is so visible because there has been no or little interference between the Core and what we see and experience with them: we all have the Core, but most of us have a lot more clearing out (of ego, perhaps?) to do before we can see it.

Happy Holidays to you and to all!

jennifergrafgroneberg 12-18-2007 @ 11:31AM

Beautiful point, Claudia, beautifully made. And I agree. Happy Holidays to you and yours, too!

And thank you so much for reading, and for your encouragement, Mel. I really appreciate it!

rebecca 12-20-2007 @ 6:44PM

I can relate to much of this post of course, even the snow...oh how I don't like snow. I wish that I could convince E to play in it. She is so much like her mama, not at all interested in exploring anything that requires a ton of extra clothing.

Lovely piece as always. What beautiful stories you are creating for your boys to reflect upon in the future. I admire you so much.

xo r

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