The Dead of Winter

"I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape - the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn't show."

Andrew Wyeth

Winter. I've seemed to escape it's clutches in Florida for fifteen years, but here I am in Minnesota again, and here it is—in full force, no less. I have a love/hate relationship with winter. It is beautiful, don't get me wrong, but it can also be a very long and somewhat painful season to endure. It's best enjoyed from your window in front of the fireplace sipping something warm. But eventually, life forces you out into the harsh reality that you must face winter head on. You must scrape ice off of windshields and shovel all that beautiful, sparkly snow that looks great on Christmas cards, but is really a lot heavier on a shovel than you would think.

Can I just be honest? (I hope I can. I'm assuming you would want me to be. Otherwise, this blog would be very short and very uninteresting to read.) Honestly, this has been a really tough season. I don't say that to make anyone feel sorry for me—I say that because I know that I'm not the only person out there that has gone through tough seasons. I say that because I feel being real and vulnerable and telling the truth is what helps those around me instead of putting on the fake smile and saying, "Everything is perfect!" When we all know full well that it's not.

It's strange, but this season of my life very much mirrors the seasons outside. When we first came everything was beautiful and bright. Fall was amazing and the colors were vibrant with potential. But as the season went on the brightness began to fade. The leaves that brought me so much joy when we first came began to slowly fall away. The expectations I had, things I hoped would happen were delayed. The cold air began to creep in. Like the leaves on the trees, my comforts all began to fall away. My home, my job, my friends, my comfortable routine of life—I felt the impact of losing all these things that brought me a sense of security. My foliage of comfort was all suddenly gone with no immediate promise of return. I felt bare like the trees. Exposed to the elements of life. Uncovered. Raw. Bleak. 

There is something solemn about winter that I never quite understood before but I'm beginning to understand now. In nature, winter is a time to live off of reserves and the bare necessities. They call it the dead of winter for a reason. Things can tend to feel, well, dead. There's no lush leaves, grass or fruit, the animals have to live off of tree bark and twigs or whatever they had stored up for winter. When all of my comforts were gone, it was a time to live off of my "reserves." What was inside of me to pull me through this season? When my faith was really put to the test, I didn't like it! I didn't like having to rely on God to pay my bills, to sell my house, to open up doors of opportunity at the last moment. I wanted it handed to me on a silver platter. I wanted more than I needed to be comfortable and I wanted it all ahead of time, no guessing games or trust required, please. 

Winter makes the trees more hardy. I've noticed that. They are very weathered and the bark is much more gnarly than the bark of the trees in Florida. Living through a tough season makes you hardy. It drives out any feebleness or weakness inside. You become strong out of sheer necessity. Giving up is not an option. Like a refining fire, a tough season brings all your impurities to the surface. What will you do with them? Face them? Run from them? Ignore them? Coming face to face with your own weaknesses is not fun, but I've found it is necessary to bring any positive change or growth in life. If the trees didn't become hardy enough to make it through winter they would die. That's what the enemy wants. To make us unfruitful, weak, shriveled up trees. 

While winter is tough, there is one thing I know about seasons....they're only temporary. Even though things may look bleak and hopeless on the outside, God is moving on the inside. We have to hold on to that hope. Even though it's cold and all the trees look bare and dead, like they'll never sprout another green leaf again, something is happening on the inside. We can't see it, but it's happening. Life is stirring inside that tree. Then, in the spring, a small bud pops out. A promise of new beginnings and new seasons. And before you know it, there is lushness and the bright flowering colors of life appear again.

Don't let a tough season of life dictate your future. If we looked at winter as a never ending season, it would be unbearable. But if we see it in perspective, that soon the sun will be shining again, soon it will be warm again, soon everything will be green again (Oh happy day, please let this be a short winter, Lord!), then we have hope. We have expectancy. Things will change. God is working behind the scenes. We have to trust Him. God tells us that we are not to be moved by the things that we see. You may be in the middle of winter, but God is moving and stirring up new, green life inside. Take this season to be introspective. To purge out impurities, to grow, to stretch, to become stronger. He will never leave us or forsake us. 

Not even in the dead of winter.