There are few things more magical than stepping out onto freshly fallen snow after midnight mass on Christmas eve. The world is silent, all sound absorbed by the white fluff and crisp air. As you begin to shuffle home, trying not to slip, you first turn to look at the town Christmas tree which towers above the church steeple keeping watch over the sleepy town. The morning will be filled with the ripping of wrapping paper, crackling of bacon, and hustle and bustle of the holidays. Tonight, these few minutes you have stolen between Christmas Eve dinner, Mass, and tucking into bed, are for silent reflection. Reflecting on all that has been, all that is, and all the will be.