Why I Love Winter

I love winter.

There’s something so beautiful about the season that I find so encouraging because it’s more than just the cold. It’s those moments when you step outside and see everything covered in a fresh white coat. It’s the icicles hanging from the roof and catching the sun’s light like jewels. But there’s also something about winter that I can identify with on a deeper basis. It’s a more personal feeling like when you share the same space with someone for so long that you understand them better.

The last few years – at least to me – have felt as if I’ve been living in a perpetual state of winter. Especially this last year. It’s been hard. It’s been a very dark and cold time, the kind that’s so cold it burns and you do everything in your power to avoid it. But winter can’t be avoid. It comes every year – at least where I live.

Winter is one of those seasons you know you have to pile on coats – layer after layer – just to walk outside your door in the morning. It’s one of those seasons when the wind can turn suddenly and as you twist from one blast another comes from the opposite direction to freeze every portion of exposed skin. It’s the time of year that you leave extra time in the morning to get ready because you have to make sure you’ve got gloves, scarves, coats, extra pants, extra socks, and really thick boots on so that every inch of you is covered.

And that is exactly how I have felt these last few years. I feel like every part of me that is not covered up will burn from the cold, from the despair, from the lack of hope. Every time I step outside the door I need to put on these layers like armor – in more than a physical sense – because I know what lies ahead. Because right now, it’s a really long winter for me.

But that is also why I love the physical season of winter. Because despite the cold and harshness and the feeling that you really don’t want to leave your house to face another day, there is still beauty out there. There is still a sun that shines through the clouds and makes everything look as if you’re walking through a dream. There are ice crystals that glitter on every branch and dead leaves still clinging to trees covered in a shell of ice. They glisten and gleam and remind you of how beautiful things can be even in the middle of winter.

It certainly doesn’t mean that every day is going to be beautiful or enjoyable or warm enough to even comfortably get out your door, but it does mean that there is a chance that exists. It means that something beautiful may come from whatever it is that’s going on right now, something you may not be able to see because it’s growing beneath the surface. Beneath the piles of snow, under the feet of frozen ground, there is still something going on… and someday – whatever it is – will break through the surface and be warm, beautiful, and alive.

Winter is not a dead time – even if it feels like it. It’s a time of internal growing beneath the surface, the expansion of roots that builds a better foundation. And that is the hope that I cling to right now – the hope that winter brings. Because it’s not a forever season. This too will pass and that reminder is why I love winter.

February 17, 2026 0

Pervading Storms

Storms upon the horizon. That has been my life this year: a never-ending tide of tribulations with only the briefest glint of sunlight between… or sometimes not at all.

The hardest part was that I knew they were coming. I could see the breakers upon the horizon as clearly a captain feels waves beneath the hull. Yet knowing a storm lies ahead doesn’t mean you can maneuver enough to evade them. The boat only turns so fast, especially if the motor goes out.

So, you brace yourself. You tie down the masts and draw in the sails. You drag the life jackets out and fasten all the doors, windows, and hatches. Then you hold on.

Yet no matter how much you prepare, the force can still surprise you. It can wrest the breath from your lungs and toss you overboard.

The speed and strength of those waves are hard to predict and so often leave devastation in their wake. They turn the world upside-down and leave you wondering which way is where. I’ve had one of those waves overtake me and I wanted to run when it first appeared. But you can’t outrun a storm most times and this one was no exception.

I’m still reeling from it. I can’t see an end to the dark sky yet. It feels like I’m treading water and the boat is only getting farther from me. Even though there’s a rope lashing me to its rail, I’m being tossed about like a plastic bag on the wind. My whole family is being tossed about and there is no end in sight.

Times like this are hard to deal with because they make everything else in life much more challenging. Even the normal day to day things intensify. It becomes harder to focus, takes longer to get things done, and the exhaustion is so much greater. The energy to enjoy something disappears along with the desire to even try for it. Days become routine except for the constant reminder of thunder that booms overhead and the lightening that flashes across the sky.

I don’t know when this storm will end. But because I knew it was coming it seems like I’ve been living in it longer than I have. Time is odd like that. And now I’m in the water and all I can feel is the pain of cold.

But there’s still a rope.

That’s what I have to keep telling myself – that there’s a rope and life preserver I’m clinging too. There’s someone at the other end that is holding on and preventing me from slipping away. I can’t see who it is because of the swirling rain, but I know that God is near. I know He’s in the midst of the storm and that Jesus is at my side. He dived into the water after me and is holding onto my hand even as my grip slips free.

That’s why I have to keep reminding myself there’s still a rope. Because if I don’t, I’ll lose sight of the rope itself and only see and feel the waves and wind. Until the storm has past I need to repeat over and over again that daylight will return.

But weathering such storms are not just about “hanging on” because there really are those that brave the storm with us. God is always there, I believe that, but at times it is only through the interaction of another human being that His presence can really be seen and heard. They are the buoys – my friends – the family I have turned to that are praying and holding the situation up to God. They are a true gift, and even though it often feel like it, I am not alone.

I pray that you have those buoys that keep your head up in the storm too, people that are there to reach for you even when you can’t reach for them. But more than that, I pray you have the assurance of Christ with you as you face whatever storms have swept you out to sea because we all have them. If not reach out and grab the chain of arms that can link us together to The Lifeline. Because we all need a hand to weather the storms.

September 17, 2025 0

Decisions, Decisions

I don’t know about any of you, but I hate making decisions. I’m the absolute worst when it comes to making decisions. Try as I might to get better at the process by seeing each one from all angles and weighing options, even asking advice of others, I still struggle with making decisions. Sometimes they are stupid ones: “Do I like the green shirt or the blue one?” But most often the ones that haunt me are the ones I know are life changing – the ones that have no way of being undone once the choice is made.

And yes, I know the saying that sometimes gets tossed around that goes “nothing is permanent” but sometimes that just isn’t true. Some thing cannot be changed this side of heaven. However, it also is true that sometimes things seem more permanent than they really are. Sometimes it’s just the knowledge that a lot will have to change in the process if a choice is made one way or the other that really makes it difficult to know what’s right.

And, yes, I believe prayer helps and is an important tool to be used in all we do. But I’ve also experienced so many times in life where it doesn’t seen to matter how much or how hard I pray about something because no answers come. The other end remains silent and there is no clear direction. It’s just a choice. And I think those are the moments I struggle with the most because I really do want to do what’s right.

So what is to be done when those are the choices that lie ahead? What is the answer when no hint is given?

Unfortunately, I don’t have that answer. I wish I did. I really do. I wish I always felt peace about every choice I’ve ever made, but the truth is I don’t. I regret a lot and more often than not, I don’t feel settled about the choices I make. Sometimes I am left wondering for weeks – or even months – if the path I’ve taken is the one I’m supposed to be on. Sometimes I never get a confirmation either way.

Of course, at that point it’s too late to go back. At that point all I can do is keep moving forward the best I can and make the most of each day and every other decision that comes along. And without being able to see into the future, I think that’s all any of us can do. If we’ve sought counsel, His direction, and His Word, and weighed all the options as best we can than all we are left with is to take a step and make a choice.

It’s a real bummer for those of us that want to make sure we are doing the “right” thing, but sometimes I don’t think God asks us for the “right” thing but “a” thing. I think He asks us to move sometimes from the knowing into the unknown, to take a step of faith and not remain in that comfortable spot of having all the answers. Because if I’m honest with myself, I don’t know it all and will never know it all, even if I wish it was otherwise.

So, we breathe and pray and hope and cross all our fingers and toes and then make a choice as best we can, because we know that God walks with us each step of the way – even if we can’t see or hear Him move.

July 15, 2025 0

The Aftermath

The aftermath of surgery is a hard place–no matter how minor or major it was. It’s been over fourteen weeks for me and I’m still trying to wrap my head around all that took place. To say that I regret the decision is wrong. But if you ask me whether or not I’m okay with it–that’s a different story. That answer still remains to be seen.

In one sense, I’m okay because I know it was the right decision. There is no other way to say “it had to be done” yet the loss of what could’ve been and no longer exists as a possibility is a heavy weight to bear. It’s a weight I still can’t think of without being mournful in some way, either through tears or general depression, because I know there’s no going back. There is no changing the outcome. What was done is done. Even though that finality is difficult to accept, I know it needed to happen. I know it in my heart and in my head. I knew it in the curtained-off waiting room, while signing the forms, and being wheeled back hall to the table. I knew it talking to all the doctors and nurses beforehand and when speaking to them afterward as I looked at the photos they took of the mass they removed.

And just to be clear, I did have a choice. I could’ve refused and left everything as it was, but there were a lot of side effects going on and continual blood infusions can only go so far. It really wasn’t as much of a question of if but when. So, I don’t regret the decision. I don’t wish I could go back and change it. Do I wish it never happened? Definitely. Do I wish I had more time to investigate other options? Maybe. But I think the uncertainty that surrounds me right now is not so much of a true uncertainty but a sadness. It’s not regret as much as it’s a profound sadness for all that’s changed. And sadness, I think, will be my companion for awhile. Because this was one of those unchangeable things that couldn’t be avoided no matter how much I wished and prayed for that to happen.

Now, don’t get me wrong, God can still do miracles. I firmly believe that, although I often have a hard time believing for such things to happen in my life, especially right now. It’s one of those things that seem like it’s meant for someone else to experience but not me. Which, I know isn’t true, but that’s where I am right now.

So it is to the moving forward that I must look. It is to the act of the picking up the pieces and making something out of what is–and not what could’ve been–that must draw my effort. Without that focus my world would forever remain dark and gray. It would become a place of perpetual night. And that can’t be where I stay because that leads to a black hole of selfishness and defeat. The choice to move on and find the pinprick of sunlight that lies hidden within the clouds is my goal for now. It may be awhile before I find it, but if I keep looking–instead of giving up or getting bogged down by regret–I might just find it someday. That–at least, for now–is my prayer.

June 17, 2025 0

Unplanned Lessons

Sometimes I find myself in a place I never expected or wanted to be in. I realize that part of my being there is based on choices I’ve made over time, but sometimes, things just happen. They just happen and there doesn’t seem to be a clear reason as to why.

Like the day I went out in a canoe to show some people around. It started out great-the sky was clear, the lake calm, but then the clouds rolled in and so did the wind. While everyone else was in a two person canoe, I was solo, which meant I had to paddle twice as much as everyone else.

At some point, you can’t keep up, or rather, I couldn’t keep up. I got stuck in the weeds-literally. I could not get myself free of the weeds and the instant I did I started drifting backwards away from my group.

They were having a great time and kept going, which was fine until the fog rolled in. And yes, I totally lost sight of the those I was supposed to be showing around. I go so tired from paddling, going in circles, and being unable to see anyone else that I broke into tears.

I started telling God out loud that he had to help me and that I wasn’t going anywhere until he did. I was putting on a little tantrum, but I was beyond caring. I could not do it. I could not beat the wind and see past the fog. And yet I was still trying to do just that.

It’s times like that I (sometimes) realize, God is trying to get my attention and teach me something, although those are the times I really don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to be told to wait, to be patient, to stop and think before acting.

The lessons of “know that even in the fog and wind he is still there” are not always welcome, but they are true. He still cares. He knows the frustrations, the attempts, and the failures. He knows and will sit with you in it, even if you don’t want to, or even want him; he will be there.

I sometimes hate lessons like that. But they are necessary reminders that no matter what we face, we are loved. We are seen. We can be known on a deeper level if we take the time to stop and breathe and wait upon more than ourselves.

And yes, the fog lifted and I did get through the weeds and wind to my group, but only in God’s grace and with his timing.

July 7, 2024 0

Summer of Adventure

Sometimes I find that things don’t go the way I think–strike that–they often don’t go the way I think. Take this summer for example. For the first time, in my life I switched to a job that enabled me to have the summers off. Yeah! (Not so for the checkbook, but great for potentially writing more)

Then the offers start coming in–jobs I wasn’t even looking for. So, I think, I am obviously meant to keep working. But what to do? (This is one of those times I kept praying for an answer and never seemed to get one.)

-Insert: hours of prayer, conversations, and absolute frustration…and still no answer.

So, I go for one. I take the one I think will be the most enjoyable and least familiar. Not my usual option. I usually play it safe and take the one I know I can do without any questions. I don’t know about you, but I like knowing I can do something without having to learn a lot of new tricks. But do we really grow that way?

So, for this summer I’ve taken on the camp life. I’ve moved into a cabin with roommates and have been thrown into a bunch of events i never got the chance to preview. It’s been a ride so far and it will continue to be. I think the summer will go fast and I think by the end I will love it, but there are some days I ask myself “What was I thinking!?”

June 25, 2024 0

The Next Adventure

Posting on a blog is an entirely new experience for me…and it’s honestly, a bit intimidating. It shouldn’t be because, as an aspiring writer, putting words on paper (or on a screen, in this case) should be as comfortable as an old chair. But sometimes that chair has springs sticking through the worn cushion and staples that have been exposed on the arms by all the loving cats in the house. To me, those little barbs are the splashes on a blog, not the bigger picture. Those details are fascinating but it’s really the way the details piece together to create something more that entices me. So, we’ll see how this goes. I’ll be figuring this out along the ways and maybe in the end there will be a larger more interesting image that arises from all the tiny details that can so easily distract from the overall goal and picture.

June 10, 2024 0