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This was my prayer. Not for rescue or escape, but for my soul, which had been sick. I gazed at waves rising and shattering, and this was my resolve—to remember myself as God remembered me.
What would have been a miracle for her was for me a change in weather.
In my experience, God’s work was unexpected. His grace required interpreting.
Holding the claw, I remembered the white bear. He had stalked me, but not as men did, cruelly. Not as my guardian did, for pleasure. Why had he come, except for hunger? Why had we fought? Because winter was a duel, a battle against cold and want.
