I'm No Figure Skater

There is still a lot of snow here. There is snow in the forecast for this weekend. The forecast is iffy so maybe it will be rain. Rain will wash away some of the snow.  They are concerned about flooding now that spring is nearing. A friend told me she is praying that the snow melts slowly.

I want the snow to go. It reminds me of the bleakness of my existence here in South Dakota. More than the snow, I want the ice to melt. I am terrified of ice. I have never slipped and fallen on ice that I can remember. I have little balance so I walk cautiously and grab onto my husband at every opportunity.

Even as a little girl I had many fears of falling. I never learned to ride a bicycle because of this fear. My father bought me a tricycle when I was little that was huge. To reach the peddles of the trike, he had to put blocks on them. When my friends graduated to bikes, I was finally able to reach the peddles of my trike.

I must have asked for the bicycle, or perhaps he just thought it was time. He went to a thrift store to buy one for me. Once again, the thing was huge. Way too big for my small body to handle. I remember him walking beside the bicycle to stabilize it while I tried to ride. Both the bike and I were clumsy together. He took it back and got his money back. I never learned to ride.

My dad did take me ice skating. I did ice skate. I think he had visions of me being a great ice skater. I could get around the rink finally without holding on but I never learned to pick both feet up - one foot always clung to the ice, refusing to raise.

I loved the skates my dad bought for me. They were white. They were new, a rarity in my childhood. I saved my allowance money and bought pom-poms for them. Prospect Park had free skating every Saturday morning. I'd take the city bus, transfer to another one and arrive at the park to skate. I was not yet 12 years old because had I  been, I couldn't have skated for free. It didn't cure my fear of ice or my fear of falling.

I used to think I liked new challenges. I think I did. Every move until this one I have welcomed. My brother told me when I first moved to South Dakota that I'd make an adventure out of it. I haven't. I have only tenuously walked out on the ice. I'm afraid.

The ice will melt and for a time I'll be more confident. As surely as it will melt, it will return again. I need to find some ice skates. Like then, I will never be a good skater but perhaps I can drag one foot behind me and get around the rink without holding on. I don't have to be a good skater. I can still cling to the sides of the rink at times. I need to try to skate on the ice once again.

Return

We are back in South Dakota. I wonder if I will ever say I am back home when I arrive in South Dakota. I say it sometimes. Sometimes without thinking, I say I’m going home. Life is ordinary here, even boring. I think that will actually be good for a while.

I had a wonderful send off from my stepfamily. I suppose I should stop calling them that since I have discovered that they are more family than anyone else is.  I always wanted sisters. When my mother was married to Murl I felt like I had sisters. My sister Helen said to me after reading my Sounds of Hope blog about Patchwork Intimacy, “Joyce, you don’t have to have the same blood in your veins to be family, do you?” She is right. Families are those people that love you just the way you are. It has little to do with biology.

After a hearty breakfast and two more hours of fellowship, we started the long trek north. My stomach prone to turmoil churned from the results of the last two weeks. The tears expressed and the tears not yet shed seemed at war in my stomach. My stomach settled as the sun began to peak out ever so slightly near Kansas City.

By St. Joseph, the dreaded snow seemed permanent on the ground. After this, we never saw ground without snow, not always deep, but always there. It signaled to me that I was returning to South Dakota, the frozen land. Snow as it falls is beautiful; when it freezes to ice, it permanently locks everything in its frozen shell.  I marveled at the thought that the ice will give way to green grass and green stalks of corn.

I saw something I’ve never seen before on this trip. I saw at least 30 hawks. They seemed stationed to watch me as I traveled north.  High in the trees or low on a fence post they were vigilant. There was a time I would have tried to make out some meaning to their appearance. Yesterday I just marveled at their number.

I saw something else I’ve never seen before. I saw herds of deer grazing in frozen fields. At first glance I thought it was a herd of cows. As I got closer I knew they were two small to be cows. By the time the sun was setting in marvelous reds, I had passed many fields where deer were foraging for food. Yesterday I saw well over 100 deer in these fields.

This bleak frozen land had more than enough food to feed all of the creation that depended on it. The deer, the hawks as well as the thousands of geese I saw, all had enough food. I suppose they had to look for it, nevertheless, it was there.

I thought this frozen land, that I so dreaded returning to has enough to sustain me as well. I may have to look for it. I may have to look beyond the frozen ground and see that there is enough food to sustain me as well. There will be food for my soul provided by the hand of God. I will look for it. It will sustain me through these last days of winter as the cold of the death experience lays heavily on my soul. 

I thought of an obscure verse to an old hymn. I hummed it to myself trying to recall the words. As I did, I recalled its triumph. I have found the Lord and He will feed me.

Feeding on the husks around me,

Till my strength was almost gone,

Longed my soul for something better,

Only still to hunger on.

Hallelujah I have found Him

Whom my soul so long has craved

Jesus satisfies my longing

Through His blood I now am saved.

I remember a Norwegian elder in the church of my childhood breaking into the last verse spontaneously, particularly during communion.

Well of water ever springing

Bread of life so rich and free

Untold wealth that never faileth 

My redeemer is to me

Hallelujah!

Until spring comes, God's provision will be mine.