Danger! Thin Ice (revised 7/14)

Years ago, my grandfather, took me skating on one of the many rural ponds around our neck of the woods. Those rural ponds always have crazing. You know. Small cracks scattered all over, and even below, the surface. They could make you cautious, if you hadn't learned better. They certainly made me cautious. I wouldn't venture far from the edges. I would keep my head down to watch for imminent, dangerous openings rather than freely skating to the middle or from end to end. I would worry that every snap and pop would indicate the ice was going to give way.

On this particular pond, someone had drilled a hole near the edge of the ice to bring up water to flood the surface and make it smooth. When I looked into that hole and saw that the ice was a foot thick, my caution and fear got sucked away, probably down that very hole. In any event, I knew, then, the small cracks were not precursors of the ice giving way. And, I finally could hear and take to heart what my grandfather had been saying all along: those small cracks were small adjustments and changes that relieved pressure and, strangely enough, made the ice stronger. I could skate without worrying if it would hold.

In relationships, small things, like small cracks, can cause distrust and make us cautious. We start staying on the fringes rather than going over the deep parts. We fear the foundation might be about to break apart. We watch for clues.

Looking in the hole for evidence can show our doubts are baseless. Those cracks are merely small adjustments and changes that actually prevent the relationship from forming large dangerous cracks. Looking for hard evidence can restore full trust, allowing us to skate to the middle and freely to the other side and back, without fear. Of course, it can also show us that we need to abandon the ice entirely. But, aren't either of those results preferable to living only on the fringes of a relationship? We look down that hole for the very purpose of freeing ourselves from a restricted relationship, regardless of whether that freedom means jumping to firm ground or skating fearlessly to the middle.