The last few weeks of November bring a whirlwind of deadlines, like the snowflakes madly flying around in circles outside my window. It’s easy to be blind sometimes. Or when the car won’t start and I really don’t have time to call every auto-repair shop in the city—but I knock on the door of a neighbour who lives a few doors down from me. I’ve never met him before, but he looks through the glass with his grey head tilted sideways, wondering who I am. He comes out into the cold in his giant coat, the hood covering his wrinkled face. He recharges my car’s battery; it’s the best excuse to make a new friend.

All I can whisper is “Hallelujah” as I drive away. The clouds have cleared and the sun illuminates the snow-covered stores, houses, and fields as they fly past the windows of my car. All this light, clarifying to my soul: immeasurable grace.