Frost Heaves

Sorry for the Brushstroke interruption, but they are back and I hope you will enjoy them once again. CB

I once lived in the land of frost heaves, a phenomenon of earth expansion and constriction that causes roads to buckle. Like a child kicking away the covers, the earth tries to breath and in so doing disrupts humanity’s attempt to control. The results can jar the most solid automobiles, and on a recent trip home they jarred me to see something spiritual.

Since I can remember, I have sought certainty. I find great comfort in knowing where I am and where I'm going. A clearly marked road provides comfort and security. Yes, I enjoy spontaneity, taking a less traveled route, as long as I know the traditional route is there. In musical terms, I love a variation on a theme as long as I know the theme.

But the frost heaves of a recent trip reminded me that, like the earth, my spiritual life is a living thing. It breathes. It expands and contracts and might well cause the road on which I am traveling to buckle. Rather than bemoan the disruption, I think spiritual frost heaves are God’s way to jar or awaken us. If nothing else, they can remind us that we are traveling and should stay away. They may even be an invitation to change our route.

At times of seasonal change, may we breathe in and out, expand and contract, and kick away those old ways that no longer fit.