It’s Christmastime, and as I navigate the hustle and bustle of the season, I hold tight to these recent magical moments …

My 15-month-old granddaughter, Lucy, walks out onto the sidewalk and raises her face to the heavens. Snowflakes fall gently on her lashes, cheeks and multicolored coat. She closes her eyes, hesitates a moment, then toddles on. Later that same evening, we chase one another through the big rooms of her house. She squeals with laughter as I catch her up in my arms over and over, then finally, she rests her tousled, sweaty head on my shoulder and sighs.

Lucy’s mother, Shannon, gives me a much-needed massage. For one hour, the world with all its troubles, worries and hard knocks is pushed away by soft music, candlelight and my youngest daughter’s beautiful, capable hands. I fall asleep.

Shannon’s sister Katie and her family come for Saturday-night supper. After dessert, I sit in the middle of the cushy sofa between Addison and Anna to read them a bed-time story. Addison, age 4, watches my face intently as I read book, after book, after book. Two-year-old Anna squirms, then settles onto my lap. When story time is over, Katie passes 1-year-old Jack to me for a good-night smooch. He leans his smooth forehead into my lips and I take in his sweetness. He moves away slightly. His big brown eyes are trusting. Then he smiles and leans in for another kiss.

At our weekly lunch date, Anna sits patiently across the table from me while Katie and Addison pay for our food at the counter. I tell her my hands are cold. Without a word, she gets on her knees and reaches across the table, stretching with all her might to take my chilly hands in her little warm ones.

My daughter Rachel comes to visit on a Friday evening. After we indulge in ice cream laced with chocolate syrup, we talk nonstop and knit. Her curly hair glows in the lamp light as she knits a royal blue cable-knit sock. When I express how envious I am of her talent, she promises to teach me how to make a pair of socks for my very own.

Our friends Donna and Joe invite us to Sunday night supper on the spur of the moment. We take along a salad and sit at their welcoming table to share not only a heaping bowl of pasta with homemade sauce, but their good company and much laughter. On the drive home, I realize my heart is as full as my belly.

It’s noontime at the child-care center where I work. I sit with seven toddlers and eat a bowl of homemade soup. The curious children want to see, smell and comment on my lunch. I am offered a grape, a box of raisins and a gnawed-on cheese stick. One little boy shyly reaches out to touch my dangling earring and when I don’t say no, his face lights up.

Upon my return home from an ordinary day, I find a perfect pink rose in a vase on the kitchen counter. My sweetie, Michael, appears in the doorway, beaming. The fire crackles in the hearth. Supper is on the stove.

Stephanie, my oldest daughter, calls from Canada. “Mom, I’ll be home for Christmas after all.”

During this sometimes hectic holiday season and throughout the new year, my Christmas wish for you, dear reader, is that you can look up from your busyness and truly receive all the gifts you are given. May you know peace, contentment and joy. May you know without a shadow of a doubt that you, too, are surrounded by angels.