Now that I live in a somewhat four-seasons climate, I am discovering the joys and trials of real winter. Real winter in the South, that is. I know all you Yankees among us are laughing at me.
Today, there are flurries and a wind-chill of zero. ZERO, people. That's COLD, even if that's a veritable heat wave where you live. Your heat wave is not really heat, that's all there is to it.
What I like most about winter is getting warm. I love watching the snow from my cozy spot on the couch, under my great-grandmother's quilt, reading a juicy novel, and drinking decaf with lots of cream. I love snuggling next to Big Red, who thinks my feet are freezing and the rest of me is roasting under a pile of comforters. I love a big pot of beans or vegetable soup served with a steaming pan of cornbread.
Unlike summer, and believe me, this South Georgia girl knows about summer, winter offers one the lovely opportunity to rectify its wrongs. In other words, it is possible to get warm in winter. Pile on a few extra blankets and another sweater, and you can get comfortable. It is not possible to truly get cool in summer if the air conditioner goes out. Strip down to the last socially-acceptable point and you will still be sweating. And sticky. And depending on where you live, breathing gnats up your nose.
It's true; I love/hate summer as well.
Here's what I don't like about winter:
Like summer, it's a bully. It wants to crowd out its delicate cousin spring, just like summer threatens to encroach on fall way past its welcome.
By March, I will have had enough of quilts and hot cocoa and the same sweaters in my wardrobe.
I'll be ready for a few daffodils and a little time on my porch swing--with a juicy novel and cup of decaf with lots of cream. Some things transcend seasons.
By March, I'll be ready for some extra sunshine in my soul.
All things considered, though, I love that God designed a season where the bitter wind outside sometimes mirrors the bitter wind inside my heart. He understands that life is often cold and harsh. Winter tells me that my loving Father wants me to take a season for resting and nesting, wrapping my mind in the warmth of His Word, thawing my frozen heart by the flame of His Holy Spirit.
Days will come again to bloom and grow and bear sweet fruit and flower, but before then, there will a time of rest, of waiting, while He does His thing under the surface, while His Spirit lives and moves and has its Being even when I cannot feel Him.
To everything there is a season. In every season, there is a very present Savior.
"I will give you the treasures of darkness, riches stored in secret places, so that you may know that I am the LORD, the God of Israel who summons you by name."Isaiah 45:3