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After my precarious entrance into the snowy neighborhood, I was apprehensive about leaving after the additional two feet of snow that had fallen.  My confidence was a bit shaky, but even before I could attempt to drive out, I had to dig myself out from under all the snow.

The altitude at the cabin was over 11,000 feet – aka, a place with significantly less oxygen than I was used to, even living in the mile-high city of Denver.  This meant that even the smallest task could take a lot out of you and leave you out of breath.

On Friday, the original day of my departure, a recording from the county rang the phone line at the cabin at 9:00 am, to inform me and all others in Lake County to “Stay home.  Do not drive unless it is an emergency.  Stay home.”

Seeing the accumulated feet of snow around the cabin, on, and around my car, I knew that I wouldn’t be leaving any time soon anyway.  I bundled up in warm, waterproof boots, ski pants, and layers to head out and attack the snow.

I dug for three and a half hours, taking short breaks every so often to catch my breath or to lay flat on my back on the snow, which actually served to straighten and ice my back.

The next day, as I attempted to drive out, I told several people, “I’ll be the tortoise, not the hare.”  Slow and steady wins the race.  I did not need to hurry to make it down the mountain.  I just needed to arrive safely.

What do you need to take one step at a time?  Or what are you hurrying through to finish and not enjoying the steady pace of the journey?

(written Monday, January 27)

After the driving adventure of getting up to the cabin, I was sure that I would be perfectly content to sit tight for the full five days – not venturing to a coffee shop for a change of scenery or seeking civilization in search of supplies.  I had all that I needed and more for food, warmth, prayer, writing, and meditation.

Unfortunately, the time alone also meant that I had extra thoughts that would run their due course toward worry and fear.  As I sit here watching a light snow fall on Monday afternoon, I fight the concerns I have for getting snowed in (two more days of snow anticipated before my departure), or of my car getting more stuck than it was on my way up.

Satan is attacking and creating a spirit of worry and apprehension – one that is hindering my focus as I try to write.  Each time the worry creeps in, I remind myself that there is nothing I can do about it now, that I am safe, that God will provide a literal way out when needed, and that each day has enough trouble of its own.  Amazing how powerful the Word is to cut through Satan’s lies and attacks!

“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.  Each day has enough trouble of its own.”  (Matthew 6:34)