Time went by as it does for everyone and my life changed. My family started cracking up as the family neoliberal cultural fascists went nuts. Alberta’s economy had begun to collapse and with it, my career. My marriage hung by a thread. I’d walked out into a dark winter morning with my two mutts, but I was done right in and it was only 5:00 in the morning. I fell to my knees in the snow on Dawg Island, wishing I could just flop over, freeze and be done with it all. My significance was the same as that of a random snowflake drifting on the breeze. I couldn’t control any aspect of my life. Nothing I could do or say would change anything with anyone. I watched the snowflakes drifting in the beam from my headlamp and wondered what winds were at my back, where they came from and where they were driving me.
And that’s where I ran into my Maker, in the peaceful blackness of a beautiful winter morn. I didn’t talk to God or see Him...but I felt his presence, and it was enough. I wasn’t told where I was going to go or how I’d get there, but I knew that everything was going to be okay. Eventually. And it was.
Nowadays I hear this tune and think these Hollywood flimps and artistes can sometimes feel or sense some aspect of their Maker too, but they just can’t go that extra five paces and get a good look at Him. His winds blow and buffet us all.
In the end we all end up where we are supposed to be.