The Blue Scarf at the Rink of My Heart!

Skating in Grace: The Gift of His Presence

The old ice skating rink in the park stood before me, a serene oasis of tranquility that looked just as I remembered it from childhood. The tall trees, like silent guardians, surrounded the edges, their snow-dusted branches creating a frame for the frozen oval. The still golden and twinkling string lights draped overhead like stars brought down just for this space. The air was crisp, and the sound of blades slicing through the ice, a sound I had long forgotten, mingled with distant laughter. I stood at the edge, taking in the quiet beauty of the scene, the kind that makes you feel like time has paused just for you.

This was my happy place—the ice, the freedom, the sensation of gliding weightlessly, a feeling that filled me with a sense of liberation and light-heartedness, lifting my spirits and setting me free from all worries.

This was my rink, my haven growing up. I loved skating here, feeling like I could glide away from all my worries. And yet, it wasn't just the rink that made it unique today. To my astonishment, Jesus stood in the center of the ice, His arms wide open as if embracing the entire world or maybe just me. A profound feeling of being chosen and loved, a love that transcends all understanding, washed over me, making me feel unique and cherished like I was the only one in His embrace.

"You remembered this place," I said as I stepped onto the ice, my skates finding their rhythm almost instinctively. It was as if He understood my every thought and feeling.

"How could I forget?" He replied, gliding effortlessly toward me. "I was with you here, even then."

The thought filled me with warmth, and I laughed. "I guess I never thought of it that way. I always felt free here, though. Like nothing else mattered when I was skating."

"That's because freedom is your natural state," He said, skating beside me. "It's how I created you to be. You were not meant to be bound by fear or worry but to live in the freedom of My love and grace."

This revelation resonated within me, a truth I had never fully grasped until this moment.

"Ready?" Jesus asked.

I saw Jesus on the ice, His skates gliding effortlessly as He moved in lazy circles. His face held that familiar, warm smile.

I grinned, stepping onto the ice. "Always. You know I love this."

He chuckled, skating backward as I cautiously found my balance. "I know. That's why we're here today.

"I love being here with you," He said simply, matching my pace. "There's a lightness about you when you skate. It's like you let go of everything else."

I laughed. "I suppose I do. Out here, it feels like nothing else matters—just the ice, the movement, the moment."

He nodded. "That's a good way to live, you know. In the moment, letting go of everything else."

The blades beneath my feet found a rhythm, carving smooth lines into the surface as I glided. The motion felt like flying, like freedom.

"Out here, it's like the world disappears. It's just me, the ice, and…" I paused, glancing at Him with a playful smirk. "You, apparently."

He laughed; the sound was rich and full of joy. "Well, I wasn't going to miss this. You're a natural, you know."

"Hardly," I said, wobbling slightly. "You're the one who makes it look easy."

He shrugged, skating beside me with effortless grace. "Maybe. But you're getting better every second."

We moved together across the ice, the sound of our skates blending into the quiet music of the park. It felt so natural and peaceful as if the world had paused for this moment.

As we skated together, the silence was comfortable and companionable.

As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the ice, He suddenly stopped and turned to face me. His expression was softer now, more serious but still full of love. "I have something for you," He said, reaching into the folds of His robe.

My curiosity sparked. "A surprise?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "A gift? For me?"

"For you," He said, pulling out a small box wrapped in blue and shimmering silver paper, tied with a deep crimson ribbon that shimmered in the light.

The sight of it made my heart flutter, it looked like it belonged to the season itself as if winter had gift-wrapped a piece of the sky just for me.

I took the box carefully, feeling the warmth it seemed to radiate. "What is it?"

"Open it," He said, His smile gentle and His eyes twinkling with anticipation.

With deliberate care, I untied the ribbon. I unwrapped the paper, letting it fall away; inside was a beautiful, soft, deep blue scarf. The fabric was soft and warm, its deep azure hue reminding me of clear skies on a crisp winter day. Silver threads ran through it like light strands, making it shimmer faintly in the glow of the string lights overhead.

"It's beautiful," I whispered, my fingers tracing the intricate patterns.

Jesus stepped closer and draped the scarf around my neck, adjusting it until it rested snugly.

The warmth of it was immediate, but it wasn't just the scarf—it was Him. It was love.

"This is to remind you," He said softly, His hands resting lightly on my shoulders.

"Remind me of what?" I asked, looking up at Him.

"That I'm always with you," He said, His gaze steady and filled with love.

"No matter where or what you're facing, I'm here. When the cold of fear tries to creep in, when doubt whispers lies in your ear, let this scarf remind you of My warmth, My love, and My presence. No matter where you go, no matter what you face,  My presence is wrapped around you like this scarf. When the chill of fear tries to sneak in, when the cold whispers of doubt try to take hold, remember this warmth. Remember Me. Remember that you're never alone."

Tears welled in my eyes but were tears of gratitude, of knowing I was deeply loved.

"Thank You," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Jesus smiled, brushing a tear from my cheek. Then He placed a hand on my shoulder. "You don't have to fight fear or doubt alone. You don't even have to entertain them. When fear comes knocking, you remind it of the truth: it's trespassing on sacred ground. Fear will try to knock on the door of your heart, but it doesn't belong there; it has no place there. When fear tries to enter, you remind it Who you belong to. You remind it that this space is Mine. Fear is trespassing."

I nodded, holding onto His words as tightly as the scarf. "Sometimes fear feels so overwhelming. It's hard to shake."

"Fear thrives on attention. Don't fight it," He said. "When you fight it, you are still focusing on it. Replace it. Choose thoughts that bring life, thoughts of love, joy, and peace. These are the truths that will anchor you. Fear cannot stay where My peace lives. When it knocks, answer it with truth. Speak love to yourself. Declare joy. Call peace by name. Let fear know it's standing on holy ground, and holiness doesn't make room for lies."

"Okay, but what about when fear doesn't shrink? When it keeps knocking over and over again?"

Jesus stopped skating and turned to me, holding both my hands, His gaze locking with mine. "Then you remind it where it's standing," He says firmly. "Your heart is sacred ground. It belongs to Me. Fear has no right to be here unless you invite it in."

I blinked, surprised. "So, you're saying… I can tell fear it's trespassing?"

"Exactly," He said, smiling.

A small laugh escaped me. "That sounds easier than it feels."

He laughed, too, it sounded like a melody that harmonized with the rink.

"It's a practice," He said. But it starts with what you choose to dwell on. What are you feeding your mind and your heart?"

I stopped momentarily as the blades beneath my feet found their rhythm. "Honestly? Sometimes, I let my mind spiral. I let fear tell me stories, and before I know it, I believe them."

Jesus nodded, His expression serious but gentle. "That's where you stop the cycle. Take every thought captive, my beloved, and ask yourself: does this thought create life? Or does it drain it?"

I felt light and free—like nothing could touch me. I exhaled, my breath a puff of white against the cold air. "Life," I said softly. I want thoughts that create life."

"And you can have them," Jesus said, His voice steady. "Start small. When fear whispers, answer with love. When doubt creeps in, call it out with joy. And when anxiety tries to settle in, wrap it in peace and send it packing."

Something about how He said it made me feel lighter, like the weight of perfectionism had been lifted.

I looked around at the frozen vastness of the ice and the moment's beauty.

"So, I must keep moving, even when fear tries to trip me up?"

"Exactly," He said, pulling me into motion again. "And every time fear shows up, you'll get better at recognizing it for what it is, a lie. Your foundation is solid. You're safe. You're loved. You can trust the ice beneath you because I'm the One who made it."

I touched the scarf again, its softness grounding me in the moment. "This will help me remember," I said.

"That's the idea," He said with a wink; "Now, let's skate some more."

I laughed, wiping away the tears. "You're relentless, you know that?"

"Only because I love you," He said with a wink.

I followed Him, my movements lighter, my heart freer. The blue scarf fluttered behind me like a banner of hope; its warmth was a continuous reminder of His love and presence.

As we glided across the ice, the park bathed in the soft glow of the string lights, I felt a deep sense of peace.

This wasn't just a scarf but a promise, a reminder that no matter what winds tried to shake me, His love was my anchor.

It was a beautiful gift, a reminder that I was never alone.  

It symbolized His promises, a tangible reminder that I never skated or lived alone. Fear might come knocking, but it had no power here. This heart, mind, and sacred ground belonged to Him, Who was always with me. I had the power to choose thoughts of life and reject the lies of fear.

As the cold air kissed my cheeks, I smiled, skating into the twilight with Him by my side, knowing that no matter what came next, His presence would always keep me warm.

I smiled, feeling the freedom of the ice beneath me and His love surrounding me. I knew that with Him, I could always choose life.