Butterflies

There is something special about tracks in the snow. They show us where we've been... and a keen onlooker can see where they're going... but not necessarily why the tracks are leading in any particular direction. And unless you're there to witness the progress, each print looks the same.

As if there were no more angst or difficulty exerted from one step to the next. Tracks belie effort and purpose.

Ellie made these hand prints in the snow a couple of days ago. She said it was a 'snow butterfly.' Had she not told me that, I would have thought she simply put her hands down to rest... or to see if the snow under her warm little hands would melt.

Her commentary made the marks meaningful. They were a display of creativity and imagination. Soon after this picture was snapped, there was a whole crowd of snow butterflies fluttering across the deck. Her little foot prints interwoven in the joyful display.

If my career were like tracks in the snow, they would look fairly straight. You would see them headed in a similar trajectory, my stride consistent. Not always joyful, but the path would have a contentedness about it. But why did I choose this path? Are those tracks purposeful or was the course selected for safety?

I'm finding myself reconsidering and asking myself all kinds of messy questions. Maybe it's because I've been doing the same kind of work for so long. Maybe I'm ready for a new challenge... maybe I don't know what I want to be anymore.

Maybe I need to simply look at things in a different way... pause and make snow butterflies for a while.