I watched a documentary about a mother moose and her calf a while back. The photographer followed them over the course of a year. At the next breeding season, when the mother was pregnant with new life, she began to turn on the yearling. Ears back, she would charge at it until it got the message that it was no longer wanted. It hung at a distance at first, and then one day turned and trotted off to its own new beginning.
I know that look, that charge, that feeling of confusion, and even that hanging around at a distance. I don’t want to be like Lot’s wife, looking back at what once was with longing and paying dearly for it, but I find that little things keep popping up to remind me of what was lost. I imagine this is what it’s like when someone dear to you dies. It is a death of sorts, and there will be times of grief. For some reason, they tend to ambush me at inopportune times. Then again, there is no good time for any of this.
We have been in Vermont for a few days. I’m grateful that God in His sovereignty arranged it this way. We are having a good time skiing, though I am quite sore. Thankfully I haven’t fallen and no one has been hurt. I am considering writing again, as a couple of ideas popped into my head overnight (I pecked them on my phone so I wouldn’t forget). We are taking the day off from skiing tomorrow. Have to give these muscles a rest! Perhaps I’ll do some writing then.