I understand music has been written about the Bleak Midwinter... as well as poetry and prose. As the winter months are well entrenched, no longer is the snowfall delightful or the cold "brisk". It is just awfully cold and dark and icy... the sparkle of the Holiday seasons are behind and the color of spring far away to those of us who live "up north".
My heart longs for color, maybe in the form of grocery store flowers. In this case, money can buy happiness... or at least a little spring. Perhaps I'll take my beautiful stationary my friend Sallie sent last year, there is enough of it left to write a letter to another who needs color.
Although not to any of my family who would faint at receiving a real letter from me. My sisters are too old to risk their health. Hmmm...I enjoy sending letters to my grandchildren, Elisabeth or Faith would love to receive pretty floral paper in the mailbox.
|Thinking of Spring and Pooh sticks...|
But that's okay, for it is expected when the winds are blowing and the cold is felt even under the flannel sheets. We use up more calories in cold, or so I tell myself when I'm reaching for the said cinnamon rolls. They are the food of winter, as are the soups and stews and roasted veggies and hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows and Valentine's Day candy and chocolate covered marshmallow Easter bunnies. In my part of the world, it is often still cold while eating the ears off the bunnies.
When my late sister, Alice, moved to Dallas (yes, really... that is not a limerick), the one thing she missed the most about the Midwest was having four distinct seasons. She would tell us this as she called my mother on Christmas Eve by the pool. With deep respect for my southern friends, as well as those in Australia... I can't wrap my brain around swimming and Christmas. Just doesn't fit here to us who wear down coats with fur rimmed hoods to the Holiday concerts.
So... I will try to look on the bright side while sipping hot tea and reading biography and nibbling on sliced cheese, apples, and cinnamon toast. When it is May and I'm planting or July and I'm weeding or August and I'm harvesting... in rain and heat... I will think fondly of January evenings curled up on the sofa, made warm by a throw and hot tea and a furry cat... and wish for Winter. Maybe...
Just as one may as well accept the season of the year one is living, how much more we must accept (or at least work within) the season of our journey through this life. We do all we can within the limitations, for every season has its' good and not so good... boundaries in which we find ourselves surrounded... gifts given for just that day... grace for the moment.
I always (at least often) ask the Lord what He is teaching me, what lesson He wants me to learn within each season of life... whether darkness or sunshine. For this one thing I have learned from walking with Him... each day is to mold and shape us into the people He wants us to become. The winter seasons are just as valuable as the spring and to be honest... in my life... I can hear more clearly in the Bleak Midwinter seasons of the soul.
There is something about that season which draws me nearer to The One Who Created Me, when I find myself running to Him just to take the next breath. Not so much when the journey is a season of warmth and flowers and sand at the beach... He knows that.
He, who knows we are but dust, is also well aware we cannot live in the cold always and He "leads us beside the quiet waters" when the dark chill of the journey has had its' intended purpose and our soul begins to feel the warmth of spring.