“Be strong and of good courage. Do not be afraid, nor be dismayed, for the Lord is with you wherever you go.”

Joshua 1:9

Two years ago I fell on the ice while I was skating. I haven’t been back to the rink since.

Not sure exactly what happened. Perhaps I lost my balance or was distracted by something. Perhaps my toe caught on an irregularity or a bump of ice or I leaned too far forward. But there I was, face down. My knees hit first, and I bit my lip falling. There was lots of ice on my red sweater and jeans. And a drop or two of blood on the ice.

The rink was empty. No one saw, which was good for my ego I guess. But it also meant that no one could help me up. Oh, I wasn’t injured. Just a bit dazed in the surprise of the moment. The fall was unexpected as I’d been coasting so nicely for a good while.

But there I was. Fallen down.

Lately, with the Winter Olympics front and center, I’ve been watching the skaters. When they fall, they bounce up really fast. Quite impressive since when I went down, it took me a bit of time to regain my footing and climb back up on my skates. But I did. Dusted off more than a little ice too.

The next step… resuming what I had done before the fall. Skating. And not just to the nearest exit. But taking at least one more circuit of the rink. Otherwise, all I would remember was the fall. All I would remember would be the bruises on my knees and the slightly fat, bloody lip. My confidence was rattled, and I was tempted to just head out.

But I didn’t. Not how I wanted the day to end. Instead, I skated around the rink three more times before calling it quits.

But, as I said, that happened two years ago, and I haven’t put my skates on since. I haven’t gone back to the rink. Oh, I can give you a list of reasons. Covid. Full time job. Too busy. Other things happening. Don’t like to skate with too many people around. Reasons? Perhaps. Excuses? Probably.

As I’ve stated before, every time I put on my skates and venture out on the ice, there is a little fear. A little voice in my head cautioning me and trying to convince me to do something else with the time I’d decided to dedicate to skating. I mean, all I do there is skate in a circle. No tricks. No leaps or backward maneuvers. No cross overs with the feet, like I was so good at when I roller-skating in my youth. Nothing fancy at all. Just one slide in front of the other with the intention to stay upright. Those were my goals during the 30-45 minutes I’d dedicate to this activity.

But, after that fall, I found myself feeling even more tentative. Did I really want to get back on that ice again? Did I want to dust off the skates stored so neatly under my desk and sharpen the blades? Or, might it perhaps be time to choose something that doesn’t come with that kind of mental, emotional, and physical challenge associated. Something safer. I mean, there are lots of things I enjoy doing. Maybe the time had arrived to choose differently…

Perhaps I’m not just talking about skating… Perhaps this is more of an allegorical questions. I’m asking here what you do when you “fall down” and wonder what you should do next. What do you do when you’re faced with the question of whether you should tie on a pair of ice skates or instead choose to keep two feet safely on solid ground? Do you risk going out on the “ice” again, venturing courageously into something that has delighted you but also challenged you and caused you to tumble a few times? Something that caused you to question your abilities and whether you should skate at all? Or do you seek the nearest exit, box up your ice skates, and choose something a little less demanding? I mean, there are other fun activities–activities that are a bit easier to do and still rewarding.

But then… this Bible verse reading from the Daily Bread devotional reminded me to “be strong and of good courage.” To remember that I’m not alone on the ice–or anywhere else. That the Lord is with me. That there are people who support and believe in me. They won’t give up on me because I took one tumble–or seven. They’ll help me up. And they’ll cheer me on, if what I want is to “step back onto the ice.” I just have to find the confidence in myself to resume the circuit.

Ice skating puts you on unsteady ground. There are lots of aspects of life that do that. When you fall, you might feel–like me–a bit shaken. Determining the “Next Right Thing” is a slippery matter.

I’ve hit more than a few bumps in the ice in my life. I’ve zigged and zagged and tumbled more times that I would have liked. There are people and situations that tripped me up. Times when I stumbled and lost my balance. But after these “falls,” I didn’t pack up my skates and go home. Well, I did a few times when I had to regroup and reset. However, I eventually tied those laces back up and found my stride. But now– after so many falls I’ve lost count–I find myself gazing out on the newly polished, glassy ice and wondering… is this the moment I hang up my skates for good and opt instead for something a little gentler on my body and spirit? Is it time for a safer choice?

I’m probably not alone here. When bad things happen and we take a tumble, it’s very tempting to consider a different or less demanding route. And, sometimes, that’s a good choice. Oh, I know who I am. I know what I’m good at. And while I’m no great skater, I do love the sound of the blades cutting through the ice and the crisp, cold air on my face. Yes, I know that I took a fall on both the literal ice and a more personal “ice rink” two years ago that shook my confidence and made me question whether I will ever put my skates on again. I mean, there ARE other things to do.

But… it comes down to this. I enjoy skating. I enjoy my time on the rink. And, I’m pretty good at keeping it simple, going around in a circle with a delighted smile on my face.

As I consider my next steps, I refuse to be afraid. I don’t want to avoid challenges. I want to do something that makes me happy. Something that excites me, challenges me, engages me mentally and emotionally, and inspires me to get out of bed and make a difference in my world.

Okay, maybe I’m not just talking about skating…

So, even after falling, one thing is becoming increasingly clear. I’m not done on “the ice.” I want to put my skates back on and head to the rink for a few more loops. I enjoy it. It makes me happy and gives me a feeling of accomplishment every time I circle the rink.

And when I finally hit that stride, I know I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

There is not much I enjoy more than a good book and a good bookstore. I’ve gotta admit this, I’ve had moments in the Fiction Aisle that I will not only never forget, but treasure. Memorable moments amidst books are precious to me.

Around words and stories, I feel more alive than almost anywhere else. When my son moved out on his own after college, we converted his room to a Library. I spend hours in that room… reading, writing, studying lines, and even napping. Words for me are comfort and discovery, adventure and romance, life and breath.

I’ve always loved a good book, a good story, a good read. I choose mostly fiction, though I’ve begun dabbling in non-fiction in recent years. And, I have a habit of reading more than one book at a time. This year, I’m reducing the number of open books. This year, there is method to my reading madness. Currently, I’m in the midst of one Audiobook, one Fiction, and one Non-Fiction. Guess I’m trying for a little more balance in my reading habits.

I was raised in a home where books were important. My mom, especially, was an avid reader. In recent years, since his retirement, my dad has also been drawn in by books. As a child, I was offered the option of reading before bed or going right to sleep. As I remember it, I could go to bed at 9:00 with lights out or go to bed at 9:00 and read til 9:30. What child wouldn’t opt for the later time? My parents were clever.

I remember my father reading to me. Mother West Wind stories were among the books he chose. He read them to my kids as well. Something about those tales and the way he shared them was comforting.

My Fourth Grade Teacher Ms. Townsend was considered a terror by most students at Cooks Corners Elementary. But, she read The Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler to every one of her classes. That book now resides on my bookshelf, and I read it to both of my kids. Books transcend time and connect generations.

Growing up, there was a bookstore my parents took me to at Marshall Field’s when we’d travel in to see the windows and lights of Chicago at Christmas. There was also a small bookstore on the square of downtown Valparaiso–and a Library. No matter the space, I loved browsing the aisles and finding new tales. I recall times when I was certain I too could find my way to Oz or help Nancy Drew solve a mystery. A place with books is magical.

One of my favorite things to do when I visit my brother is to visit the used bookstore. Indy has this great option called Half Price Books–it’s a chain, actually, with numerous locations. Jeff and I have been known to visit every one on a given afternoon.

I treasure these trips to Half Price. We enter those hallowed walls and separate… we each tend to arrive with lists or ideas of categories and books we are seeking. Otherwise, I’d get lost. And, every time I leave the store, I score something special–a script from the film version of Much Ado, an Agatha Christie I haven’t read, an acclaimed author with a release I missed. And, while I’m there, I’ve been known to strike up conversations with fellow readers intent on finding that special sought after book too. We lose time in the aisles. But when Jeff and I depart the store, at least one or two books heavier, we talk through our discoveries on the way home. See, books Connect people.

With Jeff, I have found some amazing reads. We choose different types of books, but most importantly, we both treasure a good story. I introduced him to Terry Pratchett’s Hogfather, hooking him into Discworld. He pilfered my copies of C.S. Lewis’ Narnia series–returning them a decade or two later. And he introduced me to Neil Gaiman, Christopher Moore, and most recently Taylor Jenkins Reid.

It began with another one of her books, really. Daisy Jones and The Six. Jeff said it might be his “book of the year.” And that’s saying something since he, like me, reads a lot of books in any given year. I picked up a copy at Half Price and was drawn in by not only the story but by Taylor Jenkins Reid’s style of writing. I was curious what else was out there by this clever author.

And, I was answered when my niece Abby mentioned The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo.

I’m a sucker for a good title. I’m a sucker for good cover art or a unique font. And this one had both. But it was unavailable at Half Price, so I turned to my next resource… the Royal Oak Public Library. A few months went by before this elusive and apparently popular read became available.

I couldn’t put it down. The story drew me in and pushed me out. The crafting of the book layout fascinated me. The tale absorbed me and kept me reading late into the night. The philosophy on the pages had me taking photos of text or writing down special quotes. So many thoughts resonated with me, especially this one:

Intimacy… connection. A good book offers that. It reaches into your soul and your imagination and sparks a meaningful relationship. One you can share even after you close the book and return to the world, changed, thoughtful, and inspired. One that can continue sparking intimacy as you share discoveries, adventures, and ideas uncovered on the written pages with important people in your life. People like a good friend, a brother or sister, or your children and grandchildren. Perhaps even your 4th Grade Class.

Unlike a movie, a book relies on your imagination to create the images of the characters, the sounds of their voices, the way they dress, and the places they travel. Losing yourself in a good book invites you on an adventure to a place you’ve never been, but suddenly begins to feel familiar. And Evelyn’s story, well, I’m not offering any spoilers. But it’s a rich tale that transports you to the glamorous early days of Hollywood and shares a glimpse into the lives of its rising stars. Yet, it’s more than a fictional tale. It offers questions where the answers and how you respond/react evolves. Like the cover of a good book, it teases you, reminding you that what’s hidden inside may be more complex and messier than the cover art or font choice imply.

I’m lucky to have a brother who talks books with me. Who loves to explore bookstores and find gems within pages of cardboard and paper. Who also created his own home library that provides a special haven for him. Books like Evelyn Hugo offer philosophy as well as a means to escape. They inspire and teach.

And if you’re lucky enough to have a brother–or a friend–to explore a bookstore with, you might just find your way into the magical Land of Oz after all.

“Winter is a time to slow. To grab hold of that wheel that spins your days too quickly and give it a firm tug. To let your thoughts catch up with your body. To pin down that idea that’s been circling your mind for months. To remember that life isn’t an emergency.”
— Kelsi Turner

Today is one of those February days that seem to occur more rarely than I recall during the winter months of my childhood. A day where local meteorologists portend doom and gloom, warning us that the sky is falling so we should beware. Today there is a “Winter Weather Warning” with the potential for not simply a few inches, but over a foot of snow.

Schools are closed. Businesses sent employees home early. I baked some bread–which makes the house smell good–and now sit here happily with a cup of tea, feeling as though I’m immersed in a snow globe that someone has vigorously shaken.

This Warning hasn’t affected me too much. I did Virtual Yoga, instead of attending a live class. And, I was able to get both to the grocery store–the store shelves a bit barer than usual–and to my daughter’s doctor appointment–which was rescheduled so the office staff could go home early.

Like I said, the sky is falling.

Outside, I’m beginning to hear the tell-tale sound of shoveling, and I wonder if I should pull out the snow blower and clear the first layer of wintery mix from my driveway.

However, I decide to remain indoors, cozy in my sweats, cardigan, and slippers. The snowfall is so quiet. Snow blankets the world in white and demands one very obvious thing when it arrives so dramatically.

It demands that we slow down. It demands that stay indoors–or, if we go out, it requires us to be more mindful as we drive on the roads or walk on sidewalks. Snowy days offer an excuse to snuggle under a blanket with a book or watch a movie. Snowy days invite us to relax and take it easy–inside.

Nope, can’t go out … too much snow and nowhere to go!

Curious that we need a winter storm to do something that is ultimately so good for us. Slowing down, settling in, taking our time, giving ourselves permission to rest, read, write a blog, or take that nap.

Our lives are so busy. December is a whirlwind of activity and events. The month is consumed by Holiday plans with family. Concerts. Baking and cooking. School and work commitments. Shopping. Our to-do lists are massive, our calendars are full, and our stress level is off the charts. Then come January and February–and Winter. The temperatures drop and the weather becomes more unpredictable, as though it realizes that we are ready for a long winter’s nap. That for our well-being and mental health we need a little chilly time. That for our own well-being, we need an opportunity to hibernate, even if only to get ready for whatever comes in the spring months.

When I encounter days like today, I intuitively recognize them as invitations or opportunities to slow down. To be honest, though, it takes me a bit to unwind. I’m quick to pop up after a page or two of my book, to notice some dust that needs my immediate attention, or to think of something I need to do other than settle my body, mind, and spirit into a little stillness and quiet. I actually find it’s necessary to give myself permission to stop and rest. I’m still coming to terms with the knowledge that rest is good for me. Necessary. Helpful. Needed. Nurturing.

I mean, there are numerous other “things” competing for my attention and calling me to action. Probably the same can be said for others. Stillness does not come easy. But, I’m recognizing that this stillness I create helps me manage the tumultuous ocean waves that stir beneath the surface.

I’ve started meditating, which teaches me the importance of finding a few quiet moments and focusing not on my to-do list but on my breath. It’s becoming more natural to begin my day with a meditation practice. And, there are benefits to this slower, more mindful morning activity. I find that no matter what comes my way, I’m a bit more patient with myself and others after meditation and breath work.

Slowing down is good for me. And good to me. It gives me time to check-in. To see how I’m doing and take steps to better care for myself.

Today is a Snow Day. They happened often when I was a kid thanks to lake effect snow. I loved them then. I love them now –especially when I have nowhere that I truly have to go and can make the most of the time to slow down. It’s a day where we can nestle in to enjoy those inside projects or choose to go outside and discover our inner child, perhaps build a snowman or make a snow angel.

In the quiet, I restore … Snow Days are good. Think I’ll plan one again. Next time perhaps I’ll plan one when there’s no snow.