When I was a child my parents would take me cross country skiing with them. This happened up at our cottage as well as in the "back 40" of my parent's property. I especially enjoyed the trips around my parents property with my mother and father and our golden retriever, Casey. On special occasions we would even dare out into the woods at night with the trail light only by the moon. This past week I unearthed my mother's archaic cross country skis from the basement. For the first time since I was a small child, I strapped skis on my feet and embarked out into my parents woods with my beloved black lab, Kona.
Mother nature has supplied West Michigan with copious amounts of snow this Winter. The trail was marked only by the absence of trees and the memory of them that are forever etched in my mind. I had to blaze a trail of my own, so to speak. As I continued to ski I began to gain more confidence in my abilities to do so. It took me a minute but soon I had fallen into a rhythm. I began as a child again and with each movement forward found myself moving into adulthood on my mother's skis.
I have such pointed memories on those trails of my childhood, my dog Casey, my parents, and the two neighborhood kids that grew-up with me as siblings. Traveling around the property I could envision all of those memories being played out in my head. It's interesting how life changes. We grow, we evolve, and if we are lucky enough the people and places we love do the same with us. Kona is in the land of milk and honey with the woods and I'm not so calloused to recognize that I am too.
Starting out on those familiar trails on my mother's skis I felt like a child. By the time I arrived back at the house I was keenly aware of the fact that I am my own, grown woman. But still on my mother's skis with my parents property all around me. Perhaps a metaphor lies in there somewhere. ;) I strapped on the skis yesterday to make trek two out into the woods. I was having a challenging morning wrestling with beginning to miss Colorado and coping with the fact that I had a life out there and the last 4 1/2 years wasn't just some weird dream. I thought perhaps that getting out into the "back 40" would help add some clarity of thought; plus I was excited to make my previous marks on the trail more well defined. So I went through the tedious process of getting on all my snow gear, emotionally anticipating some sense of freedom in skiing back there, and getting the dog outside.
I got no more then a quarter of the way through the yard, looked down, and realized that the bottom of the ski had peeled off and was hanging by a thread! A few profanities leaped from my mouth, I unstrapped from the skis, and stomped back inside the house. The snow is too deep to simply go walking through the woods. There went my chance at clarity! Angry, I sent my girlfriend a text with more profanities and a defeatist attitude. What a horseshit morning!
My desire to be out there however, outweighed my childish pouting and it occurred to me that I am in fact an adult and have been provided some problem solving skills. I was bitter about not being able to ski. In my bitterness I strapped on my snowshoes and set out on the trail. Time to recalibrate. It was a beautiful, sunny, morning. I had this idea in my head about further making my imprint on MY trail with the skis. Once I was on the trail for a bit I looked back at the trail my snowshoes were leaving over the marks of the skis from previous in the week…my trail is much more well defined with the snowshoes.
I learned a few things from these two treks out into the woods and the demise of my mother's skis. First, I learned that we can change and grow but if we are lucky enough to have a good foundation, we can always set our feet or "skis" on it. I am my parents child and the foundation of me lies in that. However, just as I have made a trail of my own in the fresh snow, I am doing the same in life. It is no longer my parents who ski with me or my childhood dog Casey but just myself and my adulthood dog, Kona. Though my feet are firm on the ground my folks have provided for me; just as the woods are still there for my taking. I believe my experience this week is also a metaphor for the acceptance that God's plan for us may not be what we originally thought or even desire. Snowshoes aren't as exciting as skis but I enjoyed every bit of it and even managed to blaze a bigger trail. That was not something I thought of or considered.
We can lie in defeat in the wake of brokenness or allow God to show us a new way and beauty amidst the pain and frustration that life can deliver.
After much coffee this morning, it's time for me to head out with my pup into the woods for some more snowshoeing. =) Thanks be to God.
No comments:
Post a Comment