There’s something incredibly beautiful about an ice-covered lake, with hues of deep turquoise layered amidst frozen waves of white. It’s magnificent in its frigid structure, a sculpture made by wind and glacial temperatures. When the sun glints off the surface, it’s like diamonds are refracting light everywhere.
I appreciate it. I don’t want to be in it.
My little sister lives in Wisconsin near Green Bay, which is freezing over. This time of year is the smudged line between beautiful and harsh–for me. She loves her seasons.
I envy her those seasons–for about a day.
I’ve visited her when the ice is so thick that cars drive onto the bay itself for ice fishing. The bring tiny houses filled with whatever necessities are required to stay out for hours on end. Holes are cut in the ice, and the small abodes are put over them. Setting up home on ice.
Not my idea of pleasure, but to each his own.
What’s fascinating is the number of cars that fall through the ice each year.
I have no idea what thickness of ice it takes to keep a car from submerging. It’s not uncommon, however, for cars to fall through the ice every year. Often during ice fishing, individually or in competition.
When a car falls into the water and is completely submerged, the damage done often destroys the car. An afternoon of fishing then costs more than anticipated.
The problem in many states is that, if your car goes under, you’re responsible for getting it out. There are companies that specialize in resurrecting cars from watery graves. But it’ll cost you thousands of dollars to do so.
That beautiful ice is looking more sinister by the moment.
Huge floes of ice hold a major challenge for shorelines. Caused by currents, strong winds, and cold temperatures, ice is pushed up on shore, often causing damage to homes and roads. Called ice shoves for shoving their way wherever they please, they’re very common around the Great Lakes area. People familiar with them climb them as winter playgrounds. But awareness is necessary–they move fast, and if you’re not ready to move, they can be hurtful.
There are many things in my life that intrigue me, draw me in, beg me to participate that aren’t always good for me. I’ll admit to being somewhat of an adrenaline junkie; parachuting, parasailing, heights don’t bother me.
Most of the time, I know my limits.
There are those times I justify my poor decisions. Wrong actions are undertaken because they look fun. Or everyone else is doing it. Or it can’t be that bad, can it?
That’s a temptation. It isn’t something I should choose to do, but if I’m drawn enough, rationalize enough, I’ll step over the line.
God knows my heart is prone to wander and do its own thing. This world holds hard choices, and I’ll always be pulled to what isn’t good for me.
God fully forgives. I’m still responsible for the consequences of those poor decisions, but He’s with me even as I work those out.
Perilous pleasures? Always.
Freely forgiven? Oh, yeah.
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