On Friday I went snowshoeing for the first time… and in the course of it, walked on a lake for the first time too.  My friend helped me get into my snowshoes and fit them to my boots, and off we went through her yard and her neighbors yard before heading down to the frozen water.  Gibbs followed in our steps so he did not sink into the deep snow and disappear, and soon we were walking on the lake where I have (in warmer months!!) swum, kayaked, boated and played on and in for several years now.  And it was kind of a surreal experience.
 
Lake Washington is a large lake, about 2 by 3 miles and ringed by homes and trees.  It is a place that has become a retreat for me, at least in the summer months, and a place where God has revealed new truths to me.  It was here I got the invitation to move to Minnesota, and is one of those thin places for my life.
 
So on Friday, I went with some trepidation.  I had never been there in the winter before…. Would my car make it down the driveway?  Would Gibbs drown in the snow?  Would I trip over myself snowshoeing?  Would I break my neck as we scrambled down the bank?  But as we made our way and found our rhythm with relative ease, I was struck by how much life this lake has supported over her existence, even though, at this time of year, she is frozen and still.  Yet, how many bodies, human and animal and plant, have been blessed and kept alive by her refreshment, how many prayers have been prayed on her banks and in her waters, and how much beauty she holds, no matter what season she is in.
 
It also brought to mind a poem that I used when teaching fourth grade that went something like this:
Fire and ice
Ice and fire
These are the elements that do sire
And grow creation from the crack
That grows from dawn to dusk and back.
 
Walking on that lake it was good to remember that creation is, indeed, at work.  While everything is frozen and covered in a thick layer of snow and ice, creation is growing and preparing and pregnant with new life waiting for the time of rebirth.  The ice covers the fish and plant life hibernating beneath.  The trees have drawn deep inside to allow the buds to form, just readying for the sap to start rising.
 
Reflecting on this, I wonder what is waiting for renewal in my life.  What is readying itself to spring forth?  And I invite you to reflect on this for yourself as winter continues!

In leading the contemplative worship this evening at church I used this poem by Macrina Wiederkehr:
 
I will believe the truth about myself
no matter how beautiful it is:
 
I believe in my power
to transform indifference into love.
 
I believe I have an amazing gift
to keep hope alive in the face of despair.
 
I believe I have the remarkable skill
of deleting bitterness from my life.
 
I believe in my budding potential
to live with a nonviolent heart.
 
I believe in my passion to speak the truth
even when it isn’t popular.
 
I believe I have the strength of will
to be peace in a world of violence.
 
I believe in my miraculous capacity
for unconditional love.
 
I will believe the truth about myself
no matter how beautiful it is.
 
And we sang a song with these lines from it: I will believe the truth about myself,
no matter how beautiful it is.  
 
After we had sat in silence contemplating these words and the service was over, a woman came up to me.  “You are asking a lot from us Minnesotans with that thought,” she said.  Seeing my confused look, she continued, “We don’t think highly of ourselves…. In fact, it’s forbidden.  The best we might say is, “I am alright” as a way of praising ourselves.”
 
While I had not known this about Minnesotans, it didn’t really surprise me as I think it is part of the human condition in general.  We don’t want to see the beauty in ourselves, for we get told, so often, about our flaws, or we get told not to be prideful, and our light and beauty get squished down, word by word, slap down by slap down, and our beauty flees to a safe space, locked away deep inside.
 
Yet we are created in the Divine image, filled with beauty and light and love.  And when we sit in the presence of God we can catch a glimpse of this truth once more.  All we have to do is slow down enough to sit in the Presence! 
 
This is not narcissistic recognition of our beauty…. It’s not just an outer beauty.  It’s a way of being, a way of looking at the world and our place in it, a way of moving through the space around us, a beauty that shines the love of God into the world.  It’s not conforming to the world, but being the counter to the lies it tells us.  It’s not listening to the noise that tells us we need to be more, it’s sitting in the silence that tells us we are more than enough. 
 
This week, I invite you to sit in the silence, remembering that you are made in the image of God, and that the truth is you are beautiful.  Believe it.  Trust it.  Live it!