Last Christmas my mom and I went snow shoeing on the lake where she lives. That's my mom in the silly jacket and the day-glo orange hat. (There are hunters in the North Woods, okay? It's a safety thing.) I'm the poofy one in black. Apparently, when there's down involved, black is not always flattering.
I was looking through my pictures today, and found this one of my mother and me, as shadows, standing in the middle of the bay, praying the ice will hold. At least, I was praying. I can't speak for my mom.
And I realized: choosing to become a single mom... feels kinda like that.
Like walking out on the ice, and praying it will hold. And knowing that if you take the leap of faith, and step into the unknown, and any number of other cliches, you'll have all the support you'll need, and the view will be amazing.
When have you prayed the ice would hold?