they are belly flopping down before i can turn around. abe and dad are laughing and telling me it’s my turn.
and maybe it is.
my turn to fly down with abandon and laugh all the way as the sled moves fast with a mind of its own.
but i don’t know, it’s awfully cold up here.
letting go looks different for everyone i guess.
i set out the handwriting pages again. i light the fire again. i apply for the fellowship again. i write another story again. i invite a new person to our next church service again.
this is the steepest hill for me. faithfulness.
i know how bad i am at doing one thing. the consistent life has never been my strong suit.
independence is. doing what i want, when i want, and calling it god’s will. self-indulgence.
but here i am surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses on a snow hill. i can feel the impetus of the holy spirit moving me towards a certain kind of life, but how often i stop talking to god along the way. how very often.
and so i slide down, moved forward by the momentum of my actions, but momentum always comes to an end. i sit at the bottom needing to get back up again this morning, every morning. nine times out of ten, i don’t want to climb back up that hill again.
and so i don’t.
unless i pray.
lord, i’m not alone.
you are with me and you have led me right to the bottom again. give me your strength to turn around and walk back up the same hill and to do the same thing again today.
you will meet me in my faithfulness, i know – because you are faithful.