I got chills looking outside the window this morning. The recycle bins took a ride with the white wind and ended up across the street. I can feel that wind just typing about it.
I’m usually cold. No matter where we are. And people always say, oh, you should be used to it – you’re from Minnesota. I’m not used to it. Maybe it’s like Bob Dylan says, “I was born a long way from home.” (Someplace warm, no doubt.)
Looking through some of my mom’s things, we found this picture – me, perched on a snowmobile in a sea of white – a winter wonderland. Packed into layer after layer of clothing. We didn’t have fancy down polar jackets, so we put wool upon wool until we almost rolled out the front door. The bundling and unbundling took more time than we ever spent outside, but we did it – again and again.
But I am not prepared. For the cold. I don’t really even know what that means. If you think about it – who is prepared really, for anything? We get up. Each day. Do the best with what we have. Life happens. We change. With any luck we grow. Pack ourselves in the lessons that we learn again and again, and live and love – unprepared. But I’m good with that. Like it even. Probably love it. I don’t want to be hardened by preparation. I want to feel the surprise of joy and love when it comes, even in the tiniest of ways. Maybe that’s not preparation, but it sounds a lot like grace.
Nothing prepares you for this day. Your heart is cracked open so you cry. The world keeps turning, so you live. No one tells your heart to stop beating. So you love! Nothing prepares you for this beautiful day!