The park was quiet.
Frigid air had begun to overtake the northern states. And the forecast was grim.
I decided to get a walk in before the impending storm. Temperatures would be plummeting and I knew I wouldn’t be venturing out for a few days.
I had donned my hiking boots and woolen winter hat. Bundled up as the trek seemed especially onerous.
Snow was piled high alongside the walking trail. A slippery layer was hidden beneath a dusting of white. Icy remnants from last weeks arctic arrival.
My steps were calculated.
Eyes down. Affixed to the ground.
Arms ready for balance at any moment.
My thoughts were directed by the uneven and unforgiving wintry terrain.
No longer was I able to look around and take in the beauty. My ears, once tuned to birds in the thicket now tuned only to the breaking crunch of verglas beneath my feet.
I counted my blessings.
Grateful to be getting out. Grateful for my legs to carry me. For the time to be in nature.
But I realized how much my perspective had changed from previous walks. This day, I felt bound by the physical limitations of my surroundings.
Energies once spent on breathing in the splendor, now honed to ensure my safe return.
Intent on my destination.
The joy of the journey eluded me.
…
But the drive home was lovely : )
I looked out on fields spread with snow like marshmallow cream. Others icy ~ like vinyl stretched taut across the landscape.
The wind swept clouds of frosty mist onto the late afternoon horizon.
The scenery was laden with elegant architecture.
Snowy swirls.
And beautiful drifts.
Carved out of high, white banks. Stiff like peaks of frozen meringue.
Now I can hear the wind howling outside in the darkness of early morning.
It will be a day of white-outs and snowed-ins.
Gusty winds will diminish the view, circumventing any outdoor plans for the day.
Cutting cold will bite just outside the window pane.
Then, there through the blinding and blustery conditions appreciation will arise. In the silence and simplicity, we suddenly become grateful for the little things.
The comforts of home.
Of safety.
Light to illuminate the dark.
Warm blankets and hot tea.
And thoughts of my Sweet Louise as she soundly sleeps long into this winter’s morning.
So much a reflection of our own stories – this recent experience with the weather.
The perplexities of challenge and the delights of peace. Both vying for our attention.
…
More often than we’d like, we find ourselves upended by the upheaval of this life.
Chaos churns as the storms of life ensue. Leaving our souls bereft.
Barren and wanting.
When the cancer creeps. Slowly swallowing the life of another friend. Vitality extinguished. Proliferating pain. Poison injected into this, our existence, once more.
When politics plague society, preying on uncertain minds. Shedding misinformation and conjecture. Wayward hearts become lost in the quandary of our times.
Or when legislation looms, obliterating the very essence of humanity. Seemingly engulfed in evil. We are left wandering.
And wondering…how can this all be happening?
When the crazy of this world consumes, the Word still stands.
Matthew 14:27
But Jesus immediately said to them:
“Take courage! It is I. Do not be afraid.”
Matthew 14: 22-32.
Jesus walks on the water.
Many of us have grown up with this story, recognizing this as one of the many miracles of Christ. All too commonplace, it readily moves across our tongues and past our ears.
But when we truly immerse ourselves in the imagery of what is taking place, it is nothing short of captivating!
This passage reminds us of the grace of our Savior. For it wasn’t only He who walked on the water. So did Peter.
Peter.
A disciple. A man.
Peter was also caught in this physical, worldly existence and all that goes with it. The emotions of unbelief. The doubt. The questions and qualms. Reservations that he was not enough to step out of the boat.
All he could see was the storm and the waves crashing all around.
He could feel the devouring fear.
Then, in the story the LORD tells Peter to come out of the boat and walk toward Him.
And he does!
This mortal man walks on the water to the outstretched hand of Christ. In that place of faith, in utmost trust, eyes focused on our Jesus ~ he walks.
…
Christ calls us to do the same.
The Word of God is forever constant.
It is the Living Bible.
And because of that, Peter’s story is no different that our own. A story that transcends thousands of years. Timeless and true.
A story of a mustard seed of faith.
The same faith that can do the impossible.
The storms, the circumstances that surround us are just like that of Peter’s experience.
Our hesitancy and misgivings. Our worry and apprehension. The fears of what is happening in our lives. The angst of what may be.
It is all the same.
But even in the storm, like a snowflake in the forest ~ trust whispers.
It whispers through the brambles of our mind and through the winds that bend the understanding of our God.
Jesus whispers through it all.
To our hearts.
“This is the way, my darling.
Hold my hand.
I have you.
I am here.”
This gentle calling is from the same God who calmed the seas. (Mark 4:35-41)
The Almighty One who brings forth kings from commoners. (1 Samuel 16:7)
The great I Am, who breathes life into the dead. (John 11: 1-44)
…
Matthew 14:29.
“Come,” he said.
Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus.
So, if it is true that we are like Peter…
Then inasmuch as our faults and our fears parallel his story, so then must our outcome.
For if we truly trust in Jesus, we accept the gift of His Holy Spirit.
The Spirit of Christ which dwells in us. The Spirit which overtakes fear. The Spirit of God which has overcome death.
And in that space we find peace.
For there is no greater power than the redemptive love of our God!
Not the temptations of the enemy that are wrapped in the masks of sickness on this earth. Not the bindings of fear that perpetuate the lies of the wicked one. Nor the sting of death, the enemies futile attempt at ransom.
Nothing can overtake us!
For the fight has already been won. Jesus won it all for us at the Cross.
No north-wind, no circumstance, no storm can change the ending to our story.
The promise of eternal life. The promise that we will be forever at home with Him.
Cozy and warm.
Bundled in His goodness.
Forever safe.
Forever His.
My Sweet Louise 
Please share your thoughts.