By JEFF TOLMAN | Columnist

The snow was falling outside his business. Everyone’s wish for a white Christmas was coming to pass. He didn’t notice.

His life was continuous activity. Work. School events. Community service work. Work. More work. As always, the Christmas season had been particularly hectic. The holiday activity had put him in the office early, home very late for weeks.

His assistant was gone when he returned to the business from the Post Office. He had been so busy and single-minded that the Christmas card she left reminded him tomorrow was the holiday.

Tired, but determined to shorten the pile of “needs to be done pronto” files on his desk, he began working on the issues that would greet him when customers returned from their Christmas events.

The street outside was quiet, abandoned. Snow was gently falling. Inside, oblivious, he continued to work alone.

“Follow me and you will know the answer,” a voice from nowhere suddenly said.

“What?” he blurted.

“Follow me and you will know the answer.”

“Bully,” he muttered, and continued his work.

Finally, fatigue and concern about the continuing snow took their toll. He carried a to-do list to his assistant’s desk, swore softly when he realized she wouldn’t be at work the next morning, then closed the office and walked briskly to the only car on the street.

While he was waiting for the car to warm up the voice again said, “Follow me and you will know the answer.” Now, though, he noticed a strange light in the night sky, incongruous with the snow.

“Why not?” he asked himself, and pointed his car toward the odd light.

In minutes, he had driven the empty roads and discovered the light’s end — the beautiful home he had worked so hard to buy for his family.

He parked his car next to his wife’s in the garage and wandered into the dark, quiet house. Even the dog, who was used to his late entries, didn’t waken as he entered. The Christmas tree lights were off. Two “Merry Christmas, Dad” notes lay on the kitchen counter. Gift wrapping from the one present each child was allowed to open on Christmas Eve lay near the brightly decorated tree.

“Follow me and you will know the answer,” the voice again said, and the tired man realized that the light was shining from below.

Taking off his coat and tie, he trekked downstairs, searching for the light, wondering what the voice was talking about.

Suddenly he saw it.

For reasons only a seven- and a 10-year-old could invent, his two sons were out of their beds, asleep on the floor together, covered by the blankets each had had since infancy. The light through the frosty window showed the beautiful faces he had looked at too seldom recently. Customers, overhead, bills, meetings, and community service work had him spending more time on others’ problems rather than on his own.

Now he knew he’d been out of balance.

He pulled a quilt from the closet and laid it over the boys. Then he went into the bedroom and gently woke his wife.

“Come with me, please,” he asked.

“Are you OK?” she responded, still half asleep.

“Yes, I’m great. Please just come with me — and bring your pillow.”

Together they walked into the room where the boys were sleeping and gently laid by them beneath the quilt. For the first time in too long, they looked at their kids and held hands. Instead of the usual ritual of the kids talking quietly like conspirators before they fell asleep, tonight it was the parents who did.

Later, as he listened to the three people he loved most snoring peacefully, he called softly to the voice, “You were right. Everything I need to know is here. Love. Patience. Spontaneity. Innocence. Honesty. Dedication. Perspective. They are all under this quilt. This is the answer. Thank you. Merry Christmas.”

And as the snow fell and the world began rising to celebrate a great birth, a small birth had also taken place. Not one that would change the world; one that would change a family. Not one that would be scorned by those in power; one that would be envied by those tethered to their work.

The answer was always there in the sleeping children’s faces. For him. For each of us. If we just take the time to see it.

Follow the voice to your home and you, too, will find the answer. Happy Holidays.

— Jeff Tolman is a Poulsbo-based lawyer, municipal court judge, and periodic columnist for Kitsap News Group. Contact him at jefft851@gmail.com. Copyright Jeff Tolman 2017. All rights reserved.