(I am submitting this to the one word at a time blog carnival on the word, Winter.)
Several years ago, as I was going through “some things” and reading some Scriptures looking for encouragement, I had a revelation. God is about seasons. My life is about seasons.
Winter brings pictures of cold desolation to mind. But if you have ever lived in an area that has snowy months, it is also a beautiful, simplistic time. I grew up in Missouri. During the winters months there was usually at least 2-3 days of weather severe enough to close the schools. I imagine parents did not see this time as wonderful as we children did. I remember the coziness of the home as I looked out on the snow. Have you ever had snow ice cream? My mother would go out at daybreak into our backyard and scrape off a layer of snow and fill a large pot with fresh clean snow. She would put it into our freezer in the basement, like I would forget snow ice cream on a snow day! We would have for dessert at lunch. Simple recipe of snow, vanilla, and cream. Yum!
There are winter seasons metaphorically in my life also. These are times when I feel alone and deserted. The harshest ‘winter’ in my memory was during and immediately after my divorce. I felt so very alone. And yet, I had my three children counting on me to take care of them and show them that we would come through this very, very difficult season. And we did. What I learned from my childhood winter memories was to ‘hunker down’ in that warm place that I called ‘home’. My ‘new’ bedroom had a favorite quilt, pictures of those that I loved, textures and smells that promoted peace. And it was a place where I laid down my problems, worries, and concerns. It was where I met with God and got real. I learned that in the ‘winters’ of my life I spent more time with God. Maybe that is why ‘spring’ is so joyful – I am living with my LORD!
Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening
– Robert Frost (1923)
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.