Whoosh! A snowball zoomed past my head. I bent over a snowdrift and packed one myself to throw back as quickly as I could. I stood up and took aim. Wham! Another snowball crashed into my skull sending me stumbling into the snowdrift. I could feel my feet slipping on the ice beneath them and suddenly found myself buried face first in the wet, heavy snow.

It was a mid-winter's day. My Mom had ordered me and my two brothers outside so she could get a little housework done. My brothers were seven and five years older than me and much bigger as well. Still, it was I who decided to start the snowball fight. I hit one of them when they weren't looking and soon we were all making and throwing snowballs as fast as we could. It was every boy for himself. Being little helped me avoid the first dozen or so snowballs that came my way until the one that caught me in the back of the head and sent me sliding into the two foot deep snowdrift. I felt two hands grasp my shoulders as my oldest brother lifted me out safely. I laughed as I dusted the snow off. Later Mom called us back inside for a lunch of hot, chicken soup. I sipped it slowly and then sat near the old, wood stove in our living room and let the warmth quickly dry my damp socks and jeans. It felt so nice. I couldn't describe the feeling back then but I know now that it was pure happiness.

In those innocent days of childhood there was no regret for the past or worry for the future. Each moment could be enjoyed just the way God intended. Each day could be filled with fun, laughter, and love. I think that we all need to recapture that feeling in our lives. We need to live with childlike joy while keeping our adult wisdom. We need to throw a few snowballs and sip a few bowls of soup afterwards. We need to trust in our Heavenly Father's love for us and share our love with others as well. Life here is too brief not to enjoy all of its precious moments.