We love celebrating New Year’s Eve with fireworks, but our tradition almost didn’t happen the year Jordan was born.

The weather was exceptionally cold, and tiny sleet crystals fell off and on throughout the day. An ice-crusted blanket of snow covered everything in sight. It was too cold for the girls and I to go outside, and there was nowhere clear enough for Neil to set off fireworks.

Jordan was only three days old and Jackie not yet two years, both too young to know what they were missing. But Gina was seven, already well acquainted with the tradition, and disappointed to give it up just because the weather was bad.

“Please, Daddy,” she begged. “There’s got to be something you can do!”

After mulling it over, Neil did what any dedicated dad would do, and came up with a plan. He decided to set the fireworks off on our deck.

He spent the late afternoon in preparation. He chopped ice off the railings and threw it overboard. He shoveled a path down the middle of the deck and salted it to minimize sliding. He made sure the windows were clear of winter dirt and dragged away any potentially flammable outdoor obstacles.

Once darkness fell, Neil pressed the oversized living room chair against the French doors and settled me in the middle with the baby nuzzled asleep in my lap. He perched Jackie and Gina on piles of fluffy blankets and excitedly revealed his plan.  Bundled up like the Michelin Man, he headed outside.

He lined up his first assortment in a row of about twenty across the railing. Then, lighter in gloved hand, he raced across the deck, igniting each one and jumping triumphantly out of the way as the series exploded in bursts of noise and color. He quickly retraced his steps, knocked the spent ones off the deck, lined up a new row, and repeated the whole process.

“Pop! Pop! Pop!” Jackie shouted gleefully.

“More!” Gina called with cupped hands through the glass.

On it went, for a half hour; Jackie and Gina ecstatic at the display literally five feet away from them. They whined a little about not being allowed to go outside, but Neil’s entertainment distracted them from their complaints. Miraculously, no injuries occurred that night, and Neil was proud of himself. He went to a lot of trouble to give his daughters joy.

This little scene popped into my mind today when I was thinking about God. He, too, goes to a lot of trouble to bring us joy. He moves mountains to give us good things. Sometimes that’s hard to remember when times are rough, and my heart aches for everyone who has been affected by Covid19.

Neil didn’t cause the cold, snowy weather, but he used it to make a memorable night. In the same way, God didn’t cause the pandemic, but He will bring good out of it. Already, inspiring things are happening as neighbors check on each other, necessary workers show up despite their fears, teachers reach out to struggling students, and most of us slow down enough to reconsider what’s truly important in life and how much we have to be grateful for.

Neil wasn’t a perfect father, but he used a messy winter evening to make something extraordinary.  God is a perfect Father; imagine how much more He can do.

Thank you, God for the mountains you move, the gifts you give, and the good you bring out of the mess.