An Extravagant Addiction

During the winter I commit.
The lake is so calm.
Fewer riders, and much less exposed skin.

I argue with myself, become my own coach–

go, you need the practice.

Which is precisely true. I do need the practice.. Not just getting off the dock. Not just gaining traction on a finless board. Not just holding on tight to the rope or just plain going in circles.

I know to be better I have to practice. I have no natural talent and age is not on my side.

But God is. He knows that I have always held on to the story of a storm, a Man, a ghostly Man, walking on water.

And that other guy who got out of the boat.

I know the physics of wakeboarding a little.

Just like the physics of faith–a little like a seed, a tiny, little mustard seed.

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