plastic snow boots

 

 

As a child I grew up in the Midwest.  Wintertime held the promise of sledding, snow ball wars and ice skating.  Expansive lakes would ice over providing solid ground which our biblical friend Peter would have esteemed.
At the age of 5, I was off exploring the icy terrain of Fox Lake.  Fitted with my off-white plastic snow boots I scooted along the snow covered ice.  I was in all my glory as I investigated the fresh terra firma.  Then, I detected a sound that I will never forget as long as I breathe.  It was the horrendous echo of thin ice fracturing beneath off-white plastic snow boots.  Ahh!  Thoughts raced through my head.  Do I sprint, stand still or am I about to become frosty the snowdiane?  As I decided the sprint idea to be the most excellent, my boots skidded me towards solid ground.  Upon my arrival, my heart in my stomach, I resolved that these feet would never again find themselves upon anything more expansive than non-detrimental puddles.  I glanced behind to see a mixture of crackled ice, soddened snow and puddled water from which I had narrowly escaped.

Unfortunately, my misadventure translates into a personal life lesson much too late.  It is just like me to traipse off like an emotional 5 year old; skipping merrily-not grasping the dangers that may well lie ahead.  I passionately dislike that about me and wish it to change-yesterday.  Well, perhaps I should rephrase that statement as I thoroughly enjoy the traipsing portion.  

"Be still and know that I am God," Psalm 46:10

He gently whispers...(and, okay at times throws up significant barriers as diversions.)  

Convey that to an emotional 5 year old-but I am endeavoring; learning to simply breathe rather than brambling impetuously through life.  Thankfully, He never wearies of me.  You can't see but I am currently shaking my head in wonder.  Thank you Daddy!