A Fellow Traveller

Who isn't hoping for spring these days, with the extra cold wind blowing fresh snow across melted ice? It's the hope of spring that allows me to step outside in the early morning, knowing that soon I won't need to bundle up as much. It's the fact that spring always comes after winter, even if it's weather pattern is unpredictable. Not everything I hope for is a certainty. Hoping to win the lottery is outside of my grasp, especially since I don't have a ticket in my hand. Hoping that someone else will change is beyond my control, even if I can change my own words and reactions. But hoping in heaven is a surety for me that I cling to, some days more than others. When illness robs a friend of health and vitality, I put my hope in an eventual healing for her. When cancer brings intense pain, I know that God will wipe away every tear as they enter heaven. Seeing grief mixed with joy as I witness goodbyes to a ninety year old mother and grandmother gives me hope. Her

Are you tired of complaining about winter? I know it's cold, but why keep focusing on what we don't like about it? I know we have to let our cars warm up and watch for the ice on the sidewalks, but where's the childhood wonder of the season? It's time to actually go outside and look for it. Dress head to toe for the weather, including layers of long underwear and snow pants. You wouldn't send your five year old outside without it all, so take care of yourself in the same way. Don't worry about fashion. You want all your senses to be freed to discover the wonders of the season. Listen for the rhythmic scrunch scrunch that can become music if you let it. Look for the glistening sparkle of snow that resembles drifting sand dunes. Smell the freshness of clean air, noticing the clean slate that masks the daily dirt of life. Feel the tingle of cold on your cheeks while your body produces sweat and heat. Marvel at the intricacies of individual snowflakes if you are

The snow flakes are tiny, yet when they hit my face, they burn. The drifts are knee deep in places, still I plow through to place a paper in each mailbox. The wind pushes me from behind and then makes it difficult to breathe as it hits my face. Why am I even out here in the darkness of early morning? It's because 32 people have already paid the price for the Welland Tribune and expect it on their doorstep by breakfast. All the reasons I enjoy this in nice weather are gone in my memory. They are now replaced by determination to not give up until the job is done. Why can't I apply this concept to other areas in my life? Why am I wanting to give up on my writing course? I've already paid the price of the course. I've experienced satisfaction with the outcomes of some of the assignments. But now that I've hit a roadblock in inspiration, why am I allowing myself to sit on the sidelines? Where is the persistence that I dug into this past hour to get the news out? Do I ne