If an Olympic fairy godmother could wing her way to me and grant my wildest wish, I would ask to be a figure skater. Gliding across the ice, leaping and turning, looking so delicate while being so strong…not just hearing the music, but BEING the music…such are my Olympic dreams.
The reality of ice skating for me is so very different. I have done it — long ago — and have the memory of a very spectacular fall, a bloodied chin, black and blue hip bones, a sturdy friend who skated out onto the ice and carried me off, to remind me that ice skating is not among the gifts I was given.
But as I watched the free program tonight and saw the competitors — some at the very beginnings of their careers, some singing their swan songs — I remembered, too, the brief shining joy of amazing freedom on the ice that afternoon at the Lodge Pole Ice Rink nearly fifty years ago.
Thank you, Lord, for letting me borrow that feeling just for a moment, and remember it forever.