The thaw has arrived.
What a pain in the ice.
Slowly, slowly, the sun's cheerful rays make headway, dents and dimples in the glassy surface of water long locked inside its frozen tomb. Slowly, slowly, the thinnest spots succumb to Spring's kind gestures. They become brittle, molecules abdicating, rejecting familiar choke-holds and death-grips on fellow molecules, changing state in nature's cosmic water cycle.
The centre, at the heart of the matter, keeps a stiff upper lip - and the rest of its body follows suit. It is here, where the ice has held the longest, where the cold has sunk the deepest, where the breadth and scope of frigidity have been the most profound, that the real work is under way. The struggle to maintain the status quo or abandon the known hell for the unknown walks a fine line.
On warmer days, the melting seems sure. Progress surges ahead. Inroads into fluidity are a cause for celebration. Then an overcast day arrives, or the less welcoming overnight temperatures set in, and the ice inexorably creeps back, shards of glass to defy all growth, assertion of a cold fist of contempt for daring to take the plunge. The process is one unexpected plot twist after another, depending upon daily vagaries in the weather.
Talk about a pain in the ice...
Recovering from the winter seasons of life is definitely an exercise in patience. For every step forward, there are more to turn the impetus on its head. The extremes in emotional and spiritual temperatures can be dizzying. As inner chaos is allowed release, we tread on thin ice, never sure - will this be a good day? Will I succeed in keeping the pain at bay?
Grief, depression, PTSD, trauma, heart-ache - all are a pain in the ice. All need exposure to the warmth of healing grace found in the Son. All scream in the thaw, for raw gaping wounds do not deal well with any touch.
All require the thawing process, one molecule at a time.