We sit poised on the top of a cliff, a near drop off before us, gullying down to a rushing river. In the middle of the river, a bridge of snow and ice hints at our destination. My husband guns the snowmobile engine. “Ready?”
Ready? What? — for a face plant into a tree, maybe reconstructive surgery? To feel my stomach ripped from my body as we plummet down the mountain? To let every mitochondria scream and unleash the snow from the low-hanging evergreens?
Let’s do it!
We live on five acres of woods in northern Minnesota that butts up to a national forest area. Hence, our backyard is about a hundred thousand acres. Aside from harboring deer, lynx, fox, cougar and bear, it also makes excellent snowmobile terrain. And this year, Mrs. Claus gave her Santa a snowmobile for two.
I love snowmobiling. Flying over the snow, catching air over drifts. I love to drive, to be at the helm of the beast as I weave around trees and over hill and dale, my husband sitting behind me. I also love riding behind my husband as he drives, feeling those powerful arms as he’s muscling the snowmobile into the wilds. We follow unknown trails, driven by a Magellan spirit, hoping that we have enough gas to get us back to civilization. I love hanging on, simply trusting him as we drive deeper into the forest, knowing that wherever he’s taking me, he’s going first.
But there are times, when I see where he’s taking me, and I just have to bury my head in his back. Like straight down a cliff.
However, my heart cheers, despite its terror as we gun it down the hill, over the river, up the opposite side. And, if we hadn’t let ourselves go, we would have never discovered the beauty of a winter river, a hidden jewel buried deep in the forest. Nor the exhilaration of facing the challenge together.
Further on, we find an enchanted forest of towering white pine. Catch a view of Lake Superior, discover an old cabin in the woods.
It occurs to me that snowmobiling is much like my spiritual life. Occasionally, I drive, and it’s me setting our course, weaving through the trees, getting us hopelessly lost. But when God takes the
Thanks for spending the month with me! If you’d like to read more about my family and our life running a resort on the North Shore of MN, read any of Susan May Warren’s Christiansen Family series – and check our Winter Novella: Evergreen! “wheel”, and I hang on, I see the scenery, and I trust Him for the speed and destination. I trust him to keep me safe. I trust him to bring me home, where there is an eternal supply of hot chocolate.
Have a blessed Holiday season!
Jer: 29:11: For I know the thoughts and plans that I have for you, say the Lord, thoughts and plans for welfare and peace, and not for evil, to give you hope in your final outcome.