I've just returned from an afternoon of snowshoeing. When I moved to the Snowy North, I decided that I needed a winter sport that isn't as expensive as skiing. So, I bought a pair of snowshoes and started stomping through this state. What I love about this past time is that it requires you to do an exaggerated walk. OK, it doesn't require everyone to do this. But, it's my favorite part about tromping through the woods. (Other than, well, being in the woods.) I can walk around like a child stomping through puddles after the rain.
Water doesn't splash. However, on a day like today, there is a nice coating of ice on top of the snow which makes me feel like I'm crashing through the glass ceiling with every single step. It's very satisfying and recaptures my inner child. I love it.
It also allows me time to think. The first twenty minutes (or maybe thirty) had me thinking about the board meeting that I attended yesterday for a new organization forming up here in the Snowy North. If you have heard of the Interfaith Youth Core, you get the idea of what we are attempting. It's unique to this area and drudges up all of my concerns that Youth Ministry may be a thing of the past. Stomping through the snow, I worried about this. And then, I was reminded of the post that one of my new blogger friends offered yesterday. Miguel Angel is one of my good friends from seminary and has started to blog about his discernment -- which I love to read. I commented this morning that I do most of my thinking about life and faith while I'm walking. I reminded myself of this and turned myself away from church.
My stomps became more playful. The breaking ice was more satisfying as I started to think about the writing that I have just begun. I've been compelled to write a book for as long as I can remember. I've never really thought that I had a story to tell. And then, a friend of mine remarked that my work life should be a sitcom. She finds it most entertaining how I share my inner monologue with her that I don't share with those to whom I minister. Of course, this inner monologue needs a release. So, I've begun to write. It's the most wonderful thing I have done in a long time.
As I stomped, I started to think about the words my friend offered at New Years and the phone call that I received this week that continued this saga (after hearing nothing). I'm wondering if what appeals to me about Miguel Angel's discernment is that it resonates with my own journey. Maybe this is where I am too. Could it be? Or is there something else happening? Why doesn't God make Herself a little clearer?