I broke the frozen water for the animals this morning, my fist bursting through frigid glass.  The numb of cold and the pain of sharp edges caused me to bite down on tender lips.  My brow scowled as I checked for blood.  Only red and puffy.  The animals hovered close, waiting my leave so they could quench their sleepy thirst.  I stayed though.  Just to feel the chill and wonder how awful it would be to submerse myself fully in that water basin.

It seems these months, I am tip toeing on fragile ice.  Hoping the murky deep below doesn’t notice my weight and decide to pull me down into it’s painful depth.  I battle daily to hold my family with open hands, hoping that in letting go that they wont be ripped from my side.

I’ve seen too many fall into the frigid water.  They feel the searing chill that sucks air from lungs as they absorb the shock that wraps around their bodies.  They weren’t expecting this.  The ice seemed so solid, so many have walked this way before.  Why does the water choose them?  To open in jagged tears so that they will bleed and hurt and cry soundlessly for help?  They beat on the ice under the surface, but those walking overhead dont know the suffering below.

I speak of my friends who watch their children suffer, my friends who found their child dead.  I speak of the wife who held her husband as the light flickered off in his eyes, his children seeing their father empty of life.  I speak of the family who has watched the life growing strong bleed out from the womb time and time again.  I speak of the tragedies that have gripped our nation.  Children. It has been a season of winter for many.  A cruel and unexpected winter.

And now I feel that surely I am just waiting for the next crack in the ice.  Watching my footsteps and holding my breath.  Now that I have felt the sting of that terrible water, gripping the hands of those fighting for freedom from hypothermia of their heart and soul, I am filled with anxiety for what it must be like to be swallowed whole under those terrible ripples.

I am not so naive as to think I would have walked this whole life without knowing pain, loss and suffering.  But I have seen the water take so many close to me lately, it has caused so many to suffer unexpectedly and to what end?  I feel it is closing in.  I fear the spiderweb of cracks will find my footsteps.  I struggle with my hope now, my faith.  I don’t doubt it, but I am wrestling.  Wrestling with this journey across the ice.

Thank you for bearing with me as I have been absent here.  I have plans to return to writing here, if you’ll come again; I will hopefully have more stories of family-hood, homesteading (of a sort), living off this land, the cultivation of community and the adventures that follow.  Thank you for allowing me to process some of the more raw moments this journey entails.