Black ice

I was flat on my back before I knew what had happened. Black ice under a light dusting of snow caught me just as I reached for a cart outside the local Meijer. Phone, purse, gloves, glasses, scattered. Not seriously hurt but the old bad knee twisted.

On a busy Saturday morning, in a crowded parking lot, one would think there would be someone near but the landscape was curiously devoid of other humans. Another person would have been a welcome sight, but there was no one to help.

I sat up, gathered my things, assessed the damage, and gingerly pulled up on the heavy bars holding the carts till I was upright. Grabbing a cart, I used it like a walker to hobble inside and do my quick run of marketing. Once home, I slapped on the never-far-away knee brace and went on with the day. A day later, I’m almost back to normal.

Almost.

I’m seeing a lot of black ice in the lives of those around me. Sudden death of someone near and dear. Jobs that disappear faster than snow in the sunshine. Unexpected surgeries. Deadly cancer in people too young to be thinking cancer. Change. Black ice that takes our feet out from under us and lands us on our backs.

Some people just seem to stay there in the parking lot waiting for rescue. Others gingerly climb up whatever bars are nearby, assess the damage, and work at moving on. Not an easy process, not comfortable.

In my own life, I need all the bars, carts, and braces I can find. Friends to share pain and rejoicing, family to join in tears and laughter, and a God who knows where the black ice is and is the only one watching the parking lot.

Jacob limped after he wrestled with God, and it reminded him he wasn’t the one in control. I’m limping a bit. Probably a good reminder.