Still Walking in the Light

I posted this piece originally about two years ago - when I still lived in the little apartment next door to church.  I don't walk to church anymore, but I do still walk a lot and sometimes when it's very bright out and it has snowed.... I can picture the morning written about below.

Since I have many new readers, I thought I would post it again.  I hope you enjoy it.

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I live so close to my church that I walk to church – snow, rain, cold – I walk. I really couldn’t park much closer than I live so there is no point in driving. Mostly, I enjoy it. It gives me a little space to put away home and get my mind ready for church. I love church, by the way, which you already know if you know me at all.


The sky was so intensely blue, the sun so intensely bright and the snow so intensely white that it actually hurt my eyes. I was teared up and struggling to see where to place my feet as I walked. Maybe you have walked in a light as bright, too? Well, this is how my writer’s eyes lived the moment….

My eyes are tired. They are puffy and dark and small and full of unbidden tears. The brightness of the sun makes me look away and down. Instinct tells me it’s too bright! I can’t see before me. I can’t open my eyes. Not only the sun is bright, but the snow reflects that light and throws snowflakes at me formed on the wind. They dart at me like tiny daggers pushing me back.

I want to shield myself from the brilliance, do something to stop the burning. I should have just stayed inside, tucked away, in my dark, quiet, space.

But I need to go to church.

I can’t stay where I am if I’m going to grow. I need to be fed by the community that is church.

I need some iron to brush against me and rough off the edges. I need some gentle voices to fill the empty places. I need to have someone touch me, hug me, tell me they are glad I’m here! I need someone to pull away the aloneness and give me value.

I need to tell someone they make me smile, to give encouragement to someone else, to let them hear me pray, to sing, to share the joy He brings.

I understand the sharpness of the light. I know the scientific implications. My mind is wrapped around it.

I know why I must leave my little apartment behind and get through it.

But recognizing and living are two different things. No one can walk through the light for me. No one can clean the burn – only my tears can clear my vision. No one can keep walking for me. I must see where I need to be and I must do what it takes to get there.

Walking through the brilliance, I see His majesty at a whole new level.

The Life-Light blazed out of the darkness; the darkness couldn't put it out. John 1:5, The Message

 

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Next Slice of Life

It has flat out been an almighty long time since I sat down to write.

Anything. 

Well, anything not work related.  And even that is mostly someone else’s words to get someone else’s message out to someone else.

But for me to just let my words ramble, it’s been awhile.  Busy living life, I guess.

I bought a house.  That was a bit of a time for me.  Waiting to see if there was any possible way it could happen, waiting for the disappointment which I was sure was to come, waiting for the final straw that would break this camel’s back.

But all those black words were held back by some unseen Hand.

Instead, the mortgage was granted.  The money came through.  The miracle was known.

Then came the packing and the moving and the unpacking.

Well, the unpacking is still to be done.  I figure I have 30 years.  I can take my time.  No one else here seems to mind.

It’s different, this home ownership thing.  I like it, mostly.  I haven’t really been here much, truth be told.  I have work to do and people to see and relationships to build.  It’s a good season, but busy.

Spring has opened its door to us, too.  One day we had snow – lots of it, heavy, slushy wet and chilly snow.  Piled up hither and yon and making the world a dangerous place to drive.

The next day it was spring.  50 and then 60 and then 70 – almost 80 degrees.  We’re not even done with March, yet, and it’s practically summer out there.

But some seasons are like that.  You don’t expect them to end.  You think they are going to be here awhile and you kind of get used to them.  The crowded space gets comfortable.  The negatives surrounding you become bearable, even familiar enough that you don’t try to change them.

Then.

Suddenly.

The season changes.

You wake up and it’s 70 degrees and you own a house with a yard and a garage.  It doesn’t seem possible, this new season, but there it is.  You can’t deny the flowers budding.  You can shut your eyes, but when you open them, the sun will still be shining.

I want to walk on this water to test it out and see if it’s real, but I’m afraid if I push too far the curtain will fall and I’ll realize it was only a short act before the final scene. 

Maybe that’s what’s kept me from writing.  Putting the words on paper gives them credence and life. 

So.  Here they are.  The words that need life.

I own a house.  I have a college degree.  I have a car.  There are two books floating around the universe right now with my name on the cover as author.  Me.  Kris A. Newman.  My kids are grown and amazing.  I have a vast, eclectic collection of friends and kids and people I love.  I have memories of incredible, frightening, hilarious, amazing times through which I’ve lived.

I crossed the bridge.

The season changed.

I’m alive.

Thanks, God.

Ok.  Let’s start the next slice of time…..

Winter Walking

I love winter. January is my favorite month.

The year is new and full of promise in January. Anything can happen.

Christmas crumbs spill over into each day.

My birthday is in January when I get to be queen for a day… or a week if I can pull it off.

I know, you’re saying, are you crazy? You live in Wisconsin! Snow and more snow and negative double digits on the thermometer. What’s so great about that?

Cold. Tucked inside. Alone. Safe from the elements. Without fear of intrusion.

I like it.

If I want to, I can hide behind winter’s cloak. There’s nowhere to go when it’s so cold outside. One ought to stay in, to themselves.

No fear of offense in winter because you see no one.

Unless you choose to.

If you go out and about, it’s on purpose.

You can share quick laughter ducking between doors and cars. Opportunities for kindness abound when cars must be shoveled out and brushed off. It’s easy to share a shiver. No one cares what you look like beneath the layers.

Best of all? You can walk in a wonderland of glitter – a snow globe tipped for your enjoyment.

Snow. Layers and layers of billowy glitter sparkling against the midnight sky. Lighting even the darkest dark with an ethereal neon shine.

I breathe better in winter. The air is clear, crisp, concise.

And stars sparkle differently in winter. Sinking beneath the weight of the frosty air, they stud the midnight sky with diamonds.

I hold it to myself like a selfish child on Christmas Day.

I know it won’t last. None of it will. It will have to be shared and given away eventually. Back to the earth from whence it came. Adding to the water table to provide a foundation for spring.

The snow will melt. The days will lengthen. The doors will have to be opened.

But for today? I spread my arms wide and embrace the majesty of the winter night.

The Book of Pages About Crossing Bridges by Kris A. Newman is available through the
Estore at krisanewman.webs.com. 
Come on by.  Read a bit.  Leave a note.  Order a book.  Or just stop in and wave hello. 
You're very welcome.  - Kris