By Patti Thornton

photo used by permission Gregory Tonon www.flickr.com/photos/eriatarka31

Whose idea was this anyway?  The view out my patio door compelled me to dig out the gloves, heavy jacket, and boots I thought were stored until next winter.  The sky was impossibly blue, and a thick blanket of snow magnified the sun’s reflection so brightly that sunglasses were in order for sure.  What a beautiful day!  Wilbur, too, thought it seemed like a perfect day for a walk.

Looks can be deceiving.  True, walking outside was invigorating.  But we were sucking ice cold air into our lungs and my cold fingers were protesting my gloves of choice.  Still, we walked briskly toward destinations unknown (okay, so we walked around the corner.)

Wilbur walked more slowly than I, hampered by the healing broken rib that the last winter storm perpetrated.  I walked ahead, picking up the pace so I could “count” the walk as a workout.  I really intended to walk, but a quick slip on the ice forced my body into a wide-stride run.  Let me put it this way; I had a choice. I could fall on my back side or I could run, hoping to keep my torso in line with my flying feet. Even though I had no real control over what my body was doing – proven by the awkwardness of it all – I was forced into a decision to crash or run.

Doesn’t it sometimes seem like everything we know is slipping away right under our noses?  Like feet sliding on the ice we feel flung into a position we didn’t plan for.  We understand the consequences of falling, which makes it a more predictable choice.  But what if…what if…we blindly fly with our feet?

I’m talking to myself here.  I will admit to feeling like the ground is slipping and sliding beneath my feet. In dance class, we learned how to spot; how to focus on one spot as we pirouetted across the floor to prevent dizziness.  But sometimes the dizziness of slipping and sliding happens so quickly that I can’t find the focal point.

But I know WHO the focus is even when my eyes can’t make it out.  So, Lord, let’s just do it.  I would rather sacrifice any pretense of gracefulness to fall blindly and wildly into your arms.

Here it goes…a feet gliding, arms flailing, heart pounding, head following free run.  Jesus, if you’ll just get my feet going in the right direction, I will do my best – gracefully or not – to get the rest of me to follow.

Hold firmly to the word of life; then, on the day of Christ’s return, I will be proud that I did not run the race in vain and that my work was not useless. But I will rejoice even if I lose my life, pouring it out like a liquid offering to God, just like your faithful service is an offering to God. And I want all of you to share that joy. Yes, you should rejoice, and I will share your joy (Phil. 2:16-18 NLT).