Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Dearest God,

I decided to shovel snow in my driveway. I went out twice and made a little headway until my chest got tight and I got winded. Decided I was playing a fool's game. Came back in. I'll have to find a professional to take care of it.

I once did a really stupid thing. (Well, I've done a lot of stupid things in my time.) But there was this one time a long, long, long time ago. We were having near blizzard conditions. Our snow shovel had disappeared. So I used a hoe to clear the driveway. Didn't want my husband to have to walk in snow when he got home from work. He laughed at me. Should have known then that there was a problem (probably with both of us).

The body is a very resilient, fragile instrument. Well constructed. Yet, when pushed beyond its capacities, it can falter and fail. This is the time of year when people press their bodies to the limit. Normally in the past, I would keep pushing myself, knowing I had passed the caution signs, then the stop signs, and finally the bridge out. When I was dangling at the edge, the breeze blowing dangerously, I would try to backtrack, to save myself.

This afternoon when I was feeling really tired and sluggish after shoveling, I realized that temptation is always knocking at the door. I can easily fall for a simple explanation and begin to slip and slide on the proverbial peel. I can get into real trouble real quick. I learned my lesson at 3:30 p.m.

When I came downstairs to write, I opened an e-mail from my daughter. She had sent me pictures of my grandchildren playing in the snow. Had I pushed myself too hard today, I could have missed those glorious images of children I have not seen grow up. How beautiful they are! How blessed I am to see them.

Something is happening between us. I dare not put my whole self into the ring of expectation. Like everything else I have to trust in God to show me the way. I cannot get ahead of God, lest I fall prey to false paths that lead to nowhere. I have to take it one step at a time, one conversation, maybe another.

Life is incredibly fragile, yet filled with so much possibility. But every day is a gift and to forget that is to live in a small world without exits. A box with no windows.

As I stood in the drifted snow, I surmise that the heaviness in my chest was God's hand saying, "That's enough. Time to go inside. Let someone else do it. It's okay. And by the way, you've got mail."

Glorious God,
you rally my soul
to attention.
You hearken me
to listen
to angels' voices.
You sing to me
a lullaby,
a song of love.
Wrapped in arms of Faith,
you caution me,
warn me.
Your light spills out
onto me,
dispelling the darkness
of my own stupidity.
But you never ever tell me
how silly I am.
You love me
on my way back home.
A reward always awaits me,
undeserved.
Like a child,
I am.

Love always, Andrea