The Mondays of Life

Oh well, it had to happen. The snow had to melt, Monday had to come, and the regular rhythm of life resume. That is not to say that habit, and hum-drum routine is not good. It has its place. If there were no Mondays in life, we would never appreciate Fridays so much. If every day were filled with snow and skiing for hours, when would we find time to notice that our 30 year old skis were disintegrating?

We came in from our hours of frolicking in the snow on our trusty old skis to see they were no longer trusty. The bottom strip had de-laminated from the base, and hung like a broken arm flapping uselessly.

"How long are skis supposed to last?" asked a friend. Probably not this long. Thirty years is a good return on a $50 investment. However new skis are out of the question. We get snow once a year in NC, and I do want to start traveling to cross country snow in the mountains since this is a wonderful winter sport and one Asherel loves..... but we might do that once or twice a winter. We had a hard time justifying $300 (and more!) for a new set of skis for each of us with such limited opportunity to use.

So my husband Arvo who never met a problem he didn't try to solve got a can of liquid nails and some clamps and went to work. I am sure that if there were a way to fix thirty year old delaminating skis, he would find it, but I chose the easier path- I went on-line to hunt for distress sales of old skis.

Meanwhile, the ski operation laid out on the ping pong table looked like a scene from Frankenstein. The mad doctor was cackling as he attempted to breathe life into those old inanimate bones. I don't know if it will work. We have to wait 24 hours for the liquid nails to set but I think it may be time to lay the poor old skis to rest.

I could use a few clamps and liquid nails around my aching joints today too. I knew I would pay for the hours of joy. Everyone needs a break from the routines of life though and I am grateful for the magic of the snow, and the last glorious glides on the faithful old skis. They deserve peace now, for they served me well.

As I glance at the mournful skis, clamped and gooey, and settle my own aching muscles into the chair with a groan, I think about how wearily I am looking at the ferocious mouth of the week before me. Life is so busy .... and now with the respite of snow and ice gone, we have no excuses but have to leap forward with flailing arms into the fray. I will try to preserve the sanctuary of peace I felt out on the frozen hills of the golf course, the silence and solitude, and remember that truly that is available to me at every moment. I easily forget that peace and rest is not in a place, it is in God, and even when it is not snowing, within our grasp.

Matthew 11:28
"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.