The familiar and our fear
Today I walked the trail at one of my favorite parks, bundled in my cozy parka to keep me warm. It was barely twenty degrees! I realized it may be one of my last times to be out on a trail (or at least to make it the whole way around) for several weeks because we are expecting single-digit temperatures for Christmas, which I am sure will likely be followed by ongoing bouts of winter snowstorms and freezing conditions until March or so. The path was already hard, with a slippery film building up along the more hidden patches where the sun doesn’t reach. The realization brought a little sadness with it, as I contemplated the reality of eight to twelve weeks without regular hiking, or relegated to short pockets of walking on safe (and salted!) pathways. I knew it was coming, and I’ve already tried to brainstorm about what I’ll do in the meantime to create physical experiences for reflection and beauty during the cold dark days ahead of me.
Navigating the familiar trail this morning, the thought occurred to me how safe and at ease I typically am there, and yet, there was a surprising anxiety that registered in the pit of my stomach. I’ve never broken a bone in my life, or faced any other significant injuries, so the sudden realization that I could easily slip and twist my knee distracted me with fear momentarily. Now that I’m mid-life, that felt like a fresh fear even while in the midst of a setting so familiar and comfortable. It made me think about the holidays, how we walk into this very familiar season — the same people we see each year or traditions we keep or places we visit. Yet, the conditions can change abruptly, prompting anxiety and dread. Maybe we forgot about those concerns throughout the year, or we distracted ourselves with the busyness of life, but it suddenly is upon us again and we wonder: Is this environment safe? Will I fall? Am I going to get hurt?
When the apprehension first set in, I considered turning around but instead I continued walking, thinking and praying — asking the Lord to be near, to protect me, and that if I did fall he would send help quickly and that I wouldn’t be alone. Nothing profound, but that I would simply feel his care for me even if the worst thing happened. Maybe that’s how you’re feeling this week. I’m praying with you, friend, that we would call to mind those promises the Lord has made to us, that he will never leave us or forsake us. He will be with us in whatever feels familiar, and fearful.