But my stamina for swimming is not strong.
And for whatever reason, I have never been able to access a boat.
Today the lake is frozen, completely covered with mother nature's icing. I finally step beyond the shore and go.
The open air is cold, the wind is harsh.
Tears form at the corners of my eyes; my cheeks sting.
The low sun is already waning; what is it even warming, anyway?
I keep my head focused forward,
the crunch, crunch, crunch of each step
in rhythm with the heartbeat I can start to hear between my ears.
What am I even doing?
A canoe in July would be easier; warmer. Yet it is today I am compelled to go.
Because sometimes we are called to something in an unexpected season.
And we must trust that the conditions are right.
My tracks are not the first out here; they will not be the last.
Sometimes this is what it looks like to walk on water.