The Snowdrop
by David Wetton
It was the old man who spotted it first. “Look over there” he eagerly cried,
his whole craggy face lighting up with a synchronous flick of the Creator’s switch.
The children gleefully turned and ran towards the place where the old man’s frail finger
was pointing. Almost as soon as they had hit full pelt, they screeched to a halt and
caught their breath as one. The ethereal beauty of the old man’s discovery held them spellbound.
The apple of the old man’s eye stood out proudly as a sign of new hope for creation’s breaking dawn. The wizened old man caught up with the children, pausing only to place his hands on his knees, as he too caught his breath.
“A snowdrop” he declared, with childlike glee to his captive audience. “New life bursting out of the earth, a sign of the approaching Spring.” As he spoke the children’s eyes grew larger and wider, as if trying to drink in the full magnificence of the miracle unfolding in front of them. “A snowdrop is a sign of hope” said the old man with a flourish and he closed his eyes with reverence, so as to emphasise his point.
The old man looked forward with a passion to spotting the first snowdrop of the new year. Yet it wasn’t an accident that he was the first one to spot it. For through his many years of experience he had trained himself to be aware of and spot signs of hope. There are certain enlightened people who ‘know’ how to see signs of hope, even in the midst of life’s hardships. The snowdrop awakened within him a quickening ray of hope, which illuminated his vulnerable persona.
The first majestic snowdrop in the midst of winter, the glimpse of a catkin gracing a willow or the glimmering light of nature’s dawn, all brought a response of sheer delight to the old man’s heart.
There is a certain loveable truth in observing that people who can see hope in a big worldly way, also see it in nature’s smallest things too. Actually, as the old man was fond of saying to the children: “There is a need to see hope in the smallest of things, otherwise one can easily become wrapped up in one’s own difficulties.”
The old man steadies himself. A warming, an awakening in his heart tells him of the hope the snowdrop has brought to him. A hope which now reflects resplendently upon the children’s eager faces stood before him.
The children lean in slightly to catch the old man’s words. Anxious not to let the breeze whisk them out of earshot.
“My dear children, let us remember and keep close to our hearts, the hope of this snowdrop, which God’s creation has graciously set before us today. We are indeed privileged to witness the presence of this tiny snowdrop in our midst. It is a glorious beacon of hope which points the way towards a better world. One bursting at the seams with love, peace and joy.”
He pauses for a moment, a wistful look upon his face, a look of a man anxiously attempting to recollect a truth, an ancient truth which has sustained him throughout his life. Just as it appears as though this treasure has fallen out of his grasp, the old man smiles. He reaches out and tenderly grasps the hands of the two smallest children. A third spontaneously clambers gently upon his knee. The other children move in closer, sensing the eternal wonder of this moment.
“My dear children, our most beautiful gift is free will and the ability to learn, teach and grow. Once we find our purpose for this existence we fly with the beauty & freedom of a butterfly and grace the world with the hope of this snowdrop”
As the old man closes, the children remain silent. All that can be heard is the gentle sobbing of a woman sat nearby on a park bench. Five minutes ago she felt that her life was too painful to endure any longer. The old man’s words and the children’s innocent joy have resuscitated her heart and given her renewed hope and courage for her future.
As her tears flow shamelessly, she looks towards the snowdrop and smiles a hope-filled smile.
his whole craggy face lighting up with a synchronous flick of the Creator’s switch.
The children gleefully turned and ran towards the place where the old man’s frail finger
was pointing. Almost as soon as they had hit full pelt, they screeched to a halt and
caught their breath as one. The ethereal beauty of the old man’s discovery held them spellbound.
The apple of the old man’s eye stood out proudly as a sign of new hope for creation’s breaking dawn. The wizened old man caught up with the children, pausing only to place his hands on his knees, as he too caught his breath.
“A snowdrop” he declared, with childlike glee to his captive audience. “New life bursting out of the earth, a sign of the approaching Spring.” As he spoke the children’s eyes grew larger and wider, as if trying to drink in the full magnificence of the miracle unfolding in front of them. “A snowdrop is a sign of hope” said the old man with a flourish and he closed his eyes with reverence, so as to emphasise his point.
The old man looked forward with a passion to spotting the first snowdrop of the new year. Yet it wasn’t an accident that he was the first one to spot it. For through his many years of experience he had trained himself to be aware of and spot signs of hope. There are certain enlightened people who ‘know’ how to see signs of hope, even in the midst of life’s hardships. The snowdrop awakened within him a quickening ray of hope, which illuminated his vulnerable persona.
The first majestic snowdrop in the midst of winter, the glimpse of a catkin gracing a willow or the glimmering light of nature’s dawn, all brought a response of sheer delight to the old man’s heart.
There is a certain loveable truth in observing that people who can see hope in a big worldly way, also see it in nature’s smallest things too. Actually, as the old man was fond of saying to the children: “There is a need to see hope in the smallest of things, otherwise one can easily become wrapped up in one’s own difficulties.”
The old man steadies himself. A warming, an awakening in his heart tells him of the hope the snowdrop has brought to him. A hope which now reflects resplendently upon the children’s eager faces stood before him.
The children lean in slightly to catch the old man’s words. Anxious not to let the breeze whisk them out of earshot.
“My dear children, let us remember and keep close to our hearts, the hope of this snowdrop, which God’s creation has graciously set before us today. We are indeed privileged to witness the presence of this tiny snowdrop in our midst. It is a glorious beacon of hope which points the way towards a better world. One bursting at the seams with love, peace and joy.”
He pauses for a moment, a wistful look upon his face, a look of a man anxiously attempting to recollect a truth, an ancient truth which has sustained him throughout his life. Just as it appears as though this treasure has fallen out of his grasp, the old man smiles. He reaches out and tenderly grasps the hands of the two smallest children. A third spontaneously clambers gently upon his knee. The other children move in closer, sensing the eternal wonder of this moment.
“My dear children, our most beautiful gift is free will and the ability to learn, teach and grow. Once we find our purpose for this existence we fly with the beauty & freedom of a butterfly and grace the world with the hope of this snowdrop”
As the old man closes, the children remain silent. All that can be heard is the gentle sobbing of a woman sat nearby on a park bench. Five minutes ago she felt that her life was too painful to endure any longer. The old man’s words and the children’s innocent joy have resuscitated her heart and given her renewed hope and courage for her future.
As her tears flow shamelessly, she looks towards the snowdrop and smiles a hope-filled smile.
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