Eleven inches of snow. Winds and temperatures in the teens. Beauty balanced with slick roads, stranded traffic, and challenges. February third was a day to break forth from isolation and tackle the snow.

     Thanks to our new home at Concordia, no sidewalks or drives needed our shovel and energy. Others were responsible for huffing and puffing and blowing the snow away. A bundled up trip to one of our cars, carrying two snow brushes, quickly cleared off the windows. We were ready for new adventures in the white fluffy.

      Friday arrived and the decision was made to go to our small storage area and find two pair of seldom worn snowshoes. (Actually they were six or seven years old but probably used only a couple of times.) Donning sweaters, heavy jackets, ear muffs covered with a stocking cap, boots, and gloves, we grabbed the snowshoes and went to the lower level of our building.

     Then the challenge of the day began. We were totally unable to get the snow shoes onto our feet. The straps were stiff. Our backs screamed as we reached down to fasten the buckles. In fact, the buckles did not want to work. My friend gave up as one strap actually broke in her hand. She decided to abandon the snow shoes and just walk on the sidewalk.

      I, on the other hand, was determined to make this work. My pride insisted that I get them on and exit the garage area. After much tugging and pulling, I “sorta” had them attached and wobbled out the door.

      My first step into the snow caused two straps to snap and disappear in the winter covering. I continued a few more steps to allow Mary Anne to catch a picture with my cell phone. And then, yes, you guessed it. All straps snapped. No hope for “on winter snow” walking. I carefully placed the “monsters” by the door, as strolled toward the cleared sidewalk.

      Before a dozen steps were history, problem #2 struck. The sole of one of my rubber winter shoes started flapping. Apparently the glue was no longer doing its job. I finished the rest of our thirty minute trip around the grounds with the flap, flap of the sole against the snow.

Upon our return to the building, a decision was made – destruction of the broken items. We carefully carried two sets on useless snow shoes and one pair of destroyed shoes to the garbage bin, took a picture of the items, and shoved them over the side, never to be used again.

How like life! We each have talents which we can use for the Lord, OR we can hide them under a bushel, and go about our way, doing as we please for ourselves. When we stop cooking for a church dinner, caring for hurting people, encouraging weary church staff, or singing God’s praises, we will lose that desire to “let our light shine”. Slowly but surely the talents we had fade, just like my broken shoes faded into the trash container.

Take a  moment and evaluate your acts of service, worship, and attention to Kingdom needs. Are your acts getting “dusty” from non-use? Wake up before they are totally musty and unusable. Take that walk with the Master, holding His hand and stretching out your other hand to help another.