I graduated medical school in May of 1993 and moved from Missouri to the Florida Panhandle to start my family medicine residency. We were all excited about the move and the new adventure, but perhaps the most excited was our five-year-old daughter, Hannah . . .
“Are we in Florida yet?” the little voice squeaked out from the back seat.
“No, Hannah, not yet.”
And so the conversation repeated itself throughout our trip south. Mercifully, we finally pulled through the tiny border town of Florala, Alabama and crossed into the Sunshine State. After a brief bit of family celebration, a clearly disappointed Hannah piped up from the back . . .
“Where’s the beach, Daddy? Where’s Mickey and Minnie?”
Poor thing. Northern Florida looked a lot like southern Alabama. Not at all like the glossy brochures of sugar-white beaches and Disney World. But eventually we made it to Disney World that spring and by summer’s end, Hannah was an accomplished beach sandcastle builder.
By December, Disney World was a distant memory, the beach surf was too chilly to play in, and thoughts turned toward home, family and the familiar. We wouldn’t be able to make it home for Christmas. Hannah yearned for the familiar as well. On Christmas Eve, Hannah asked if we would get snow on Christmas Day.
I tried to let her down easy. “No, honey. It doesn’t snow here. Florida has lots of fun stuff like warm weather, beaches, and Disney World, but not snow.”
“But I want it to snow on Christmas!” pleaded Hannah. Obviously beaches and Mickey were not enough.
Diana chimed in. “Hannah, It would take a miracle for that to happen. Maybe you could pray for snow.”
Secretly, I cringed. My daughter was asking for the improbable, if not the impossible, and Diana was setting her up for disappointment. But I kept quiet. I’d like to say that as her father and (allegedly) her spiritual leader, I joined my faith with hers and prayed as well, but she and Diana were on their own.
So Hannah prayed.
“Lord Jesus, please let it snow on Christmas. Amen.”
It was just that simple.
The next morning, Hannah raced outside and started shrieking with delight. We rushed out to the front sidewalk to see what the commotion was all about. Large 1-2 inch diameter snowflakes were floating down and little Hannah was running back and forth in the yard, mouth wide open, catching the flakes on her tongue. The flurries lasted about 20 minutes and there was no accumulation. The sun was even shining.
But snow, it did.
Hannah was elated. “Daddy! Jesus sent us snow for Christmas!”
“Yes He did, sweetie. Yes He did.”
Dash Stories 