Making Tracks

The snow is falling and beginning to blanket the ground. The browning grass, the mole hills, and the scared earth slowly disappearing beneath pure white.

The damage done, the wounds of the past are covered, but still present under a clean slate, a blank canvas. I have new hope, like the falling snow.

Looking through the window, I am warm and appreciate the beauty before me. But, with the snow, comes burden. Stepping outside into the new world brings new challenges.

The wind whips, stings exposed skin. It's vulnerable. Each step is wobbly and uncertain. I have to re-learn how to walk.

I fall.
Do I get up?
Yes!

That's the easy part.

Do I stay outside in this fresh start or do I go I go back inside, where it's safe, comfortable, and warm. But, remember, inside is where I die until I'm dead. Isolated from purpose.

Outside, ears chill, numbing from the cold whispers of doubt. Dreams always look pretty until we step into them. Then, the harsh world tests us. It seeks to find how bad we want this dream. The cold and our resolve draw a line between dream and fantasy. 

In the unknown we are vulnerable, but, vulnerability is the prerequisite to joy. 

Today I am vulnerable, making tracks in the snow.