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Imagine. A young family walks hand-in-hand along a beautifully decorated strip of high-end stores at Christmas time. In the colored lights their faces seem to reflect the warmth of each display. But in reality the husband struggles with serious concerns. How can their small income support daily expenses, let alone finance Christmas morning surprises? The wife is wary of even hoping for any gift with her name on it. But the young daughter, hands tightly grasping those of her mother and father, squeals with joy as she spies each princess toy or pink-spangled outfit. Husband and wife both sigh. They look at each other with embarrassed smiles. Lovingly, but sadly, they squeeze their daughter’s hands in silent reply.

Without a word, the parents agree: it’s time to catch a commuter train home. Suddenly, gently, it begins to snow. Not those heavy, wet flakes that seem to weigh one down, but light, fluffy, fairy-tale flakes that sparkle through the brisk winter air. The daughter laughs and twirls among the magic snow as it blankets the sidewalk. Mother looks down and catches her breath at the pure joy shining in her daughter’s face. At that moment she forgets her own worries. With a rush of love, she picks up her daughter and together they twirl. Rosy-cheeked and spirit-filled, they grab Dad’s hands and draw him into their happy snow-dance. Such an unexpected moment of wonder!

Goofy as it sounds, this is a true story. Two Christmases ago my husband and I were that young couple. Ensnared in a downward emotional and economic spiral we both felt stuck. We were both working, but we just couldn’t get ahead. As the holidays approached those feelings of helplessness and hopelessness increased. We desperately wanted and needed to celebrate and relax, to give and share and rejoice. We clutched a seasonal fantasy replete with love and gifts, in which we could offer our young daughter a dream wrapped up in pretty paper and tied with a bow. Strapped wallets, challenging work schedules and serious physical fatigue, however, kept us rudely grounded in a very different reality.

That night though, the weather—of all things!—rescued us from our free-fall into black disappointment and despair. Those tiny, tinsel snowflakes caressed our daughter’s face and released that simple joy that lies in the hearts of all children. For a magic moment we were released from the anxieties burdening our weary hearts. In that moment we were free and able to step out of our sense of isolation, and to step into the larger splendor of the season.

For too many Decembers I have raced towards those invisible, unattainable finish lines I know as “expectations.” Yet I kept coming up short on holiday spirit. Maybe I had missed the great sales or I was just worn out by the ever-earlier seasonal hype. My mother had raised me to appreciate the people I love more than the gift-giving routine, but a part of me continued to thrive on finding perfect presents for each and every loved one. My no-win cycle was shredding me into pitiful pieces. It took my little daughter and some random snowflakes to remind me of old lessons once learned at my own mother’s knee.

So I’m approaching this year’s holiday season differently. I have decided to refocus my giving and receiving potential. Let’s face it: my hometown is cold in the winter, but my attitude does not have to mirror an icy thermometer! Yes, it is a time of year when money seems tight, but my ability to spread kindness is essentially limitless. I relish little opportunities that offer pleasure and peace: random acts of kindness, smiling because it feels good, breathing deeply, appreciating the gift of the present. Life offers so much! I can allow myself to be alert and aware of a myriad of wonders that demand no payment, other than my attention.

I think back on my Christmas experience two years ago. Twirling with my husband and young daughter on a snowy Chicago night became an unplanned, powerful and glorious moment. It was as wonderful and as unexpected as discovering roses blooming in December.

Open your heart. Open your eyes and ears. Find your own roses blooming during this holiday season. Some might spring up spontaneously: a fond memory, a door held open by a stranger, that unexpected call from a friend, dainty snowflakes dancing in the wind. Some might be planned: that cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream, a carriage ride, homemade cards, or even twirling in the snow. Planned or not, be awake to every moment that potentially carries small and surprising joys. Then share the magic. It might just change the world.

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