The Season's First Snow

Two years ago, when Dad and I found you on the bathroom floor, and we did CPR in vain, it seemed that we had been robbed of the life that God had presented to us on that summer morning of your birth in 1996. But we have to remember, in both good times and in bad, that we are the children of a loving God, and that although God will allow us to experience very difficult lessons, and sometimes even experience despair, that you and I will never be separated, at least not indefinitely. When the helicopter crew continued CPR and started an iv line, and you had not responded, I knew that you could not come back to me as you had been. I promised you then that I would still keep you in my heart, remember all the moments we have shared, and even speak to you as if you can hear me, because in my heart of hearts, I believe that you can.
In keeping with these thoughts, I want to tell you that tonight, our "snow flurries" have turned to a couple of inches of light and powdery snow. It's 29 degrees in the barn. You probably know that your rooster has fathered no less than 50 hens and roosters some of which are even more beautiful than he. The dogs are cozy in the kennel and I gave them all treats today. Sable, our newest dog (yes, another rescue) is finally stable after two weeks of intensive care, vet hospitalization, daily injections and much medication. I was beginning to think that this rescue had not gone well, but she has finally turned the corner and is finally coming around. I have most of the Christmas stocking items ready, and I have wrapped twelve gifts so far. James and Dad plan to get a genuine tree tomorrow.
Of course you know, that you and Dad and the other ancestors are welcome for Christmas. We have added a few more dvds to your collection. These are programs you watched that we would like to remember, so we have them set up in your room. Yes, along with your Wii. I know you wanted the Wii before your departure, and I would have gotten it for you eventually. Perhaps you can use it when you come, and I am not looking.