Tire tracks in snow. Smile, not exactly breaking news, and yet it is. Several days ago I wrote of my gratitude for a young man named Gilbert. This morning a new storm left the driveway and parking area coated in another 3 inches of snow. An 8:30 appointment and weary body did not allow for shoveling. Would have to wait with a prayer that it would not re-freeze and create an ice rink come tomorrow morning. Turning into the driveway after my appointments, I squealed to “think” my driveway and parking area were clear! Surely I must be dreaming or more weary than I thought. But no, they were clear. The tire tracks were the only calling card. Gilbert must have returned. I called my neighbor across the street to confirm. She had not seen and thought I was up early and shoveled myself.

As I wrote before I cannot tell you his full name. I cannot tell you what he looks like. He was masked for bone chilling weather when he showed up the last time. I only know his voice was kind and he has a firm handshake. And I know, he surely must have a kind heart. I am assuming he will show up to be paid. But payment is not the whisper. I work at hospice and know well how eyes can strain to see the faintest flicker of  a miracle. Sometimes, like today, I have to ponder how much better it might serve us to learn to see small miracles and gifts each day. Little Gilbert Gifts that just appear like tracks in the snow. Maybe then our eyes would not have to strain so hard looking for one specific “miracle.” All is a miracle. Gilbert gifts. Tracks in the snow. All is a miracle. That’s the miracle.