Adeste Fidelis

Winter is the season of miracles. A child is born, a son is given, a fat man delivers presents to a millions of children around the world in one night with one sled and eight reindeer that can fly. Someone anonymously donates a million dollars to charity. A last-minute snowfall, a White Christmas with the luster of midday in the small hours of the morning.

Hockey is the sport of miracles. That last minute shot in desperation that ties the game. A goal in quadruple overtime to give your team the national championship. The Miracle on Ice, beating the unbeatable team. A deflection, a perfect pass, the flash of leather at the most impossible of seconds.

Winter is a season of great joy and deep darkness, of divinity and humanity. Hockey can bring us moments where we feel these highs and lows, sometimes in the same game. An amazing comeback smothered in overtime. A five-hole that doesn't close. The clang of the pipe.

No matter your faith, in your savior, your jolly benefactor, or your team, I wish you miracles, great and small. Tonight, tomorrow, in the new year, and always.

Runninwiththedogs