At my lamplit sunroom table this morning, I looked out the windows and suddenly saw a V of geese flying across the sunrise.
I've been seen leaping down our stairs, flinging open the door and rushing outside at the first call of autumn geese. I peer all around the sky until I spy them and then stand, dreamy-eyed beneath their echoes, imagining the places they'lll sail over on their way to brighter, warmer winter homes.
Yet this morning I stayed in my chair and just watched the geese pass by. They were far away, so I couldn’t hear their joyful honking. Besides, my music was softly playing. But I picked up my fake coffee and thought, “Winter is coming, you know.” I looked down our street and realized nearly all the trees are naked, their grey branches and old nests exposed. By next week, the forests in our town and countryside will be grey. Dreary grey for the next five months.
Years ago you'd have found me dreading winter right now. So much so, that my autumn would be spoiled by negative anticipation. That’s what dread does, you know--blinds us to today's joy while we dread what may happen Tomorrow.
But God used Gladys Taber’s books to help me over this hump of winter and all it brings: blizzards, freezing rain, ice, sub-zero temperatures, dangerous, slippery roads, shoveling the driveway and an instantly-frozen body when you simply take out the trash.
Gladys’ books remind me to meditate upon pleasures known only to Winter: cozy evenings when one feels like a pioneer alone and shut-off from the rest of the world. Fires in the fireplace. The sense of accomplishment when you brave the elements to walk or drive to the nearest supermarket. Christmas. New Year’s. Sledding with friends. The slower pace. Well-stocked pantries. Keeping your loved ones warm through a dangerously cold night. Waking up and seeing that your neighborhood became a Winter Wonderland during moonless hours.
Winter months challenge those of us who, unlike geese, cannot fly away to warmer lands. Instead, we must find those better places within ourselves, holy homes where dreary outside weather can’t touch the real us.
The Bible mentions light shining out of darkness. Well, during Winter I must stoke the fire within me--and the Light--so that they will burn bright.
Because it matters most what goes on inside a house.
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O Winter! ruler of the inverted year, . . . .
I crown thee king of intimate delights,
Fireside enjoyments, home-born happiness,
And all the comforts that the lowly roof
Of undisturb'd
Retirement, and the hours
Of long uninterrupted evening, know.
Author: William Cowper
Winter is the price we pay for Autumn's magic skies of fleeing, honking, laughing geese ...Debra
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Howdy Debra-
ReplyDeleteI love your down-home style of writing. I happened across your little chunk of the blog-o-sphere and was delightfully surprised.
To me, Winter is the rejuvenation that the land needs after a busy and eventful Spring and Summer. It's the sleep that our bodies demand after a hard days work. I've resented sleep in the past, but have come to relish the recharge that it provides. So too do I relish Winter, the stark beauty and crisp air.
Little is more fun to me than strapping on my showshoes and walking over untouched snow, through trees and pastures, over hills and peaks, through feet of fresh snow under our blue canopy.
It is a wonderful creation, and I revel in Winter, Summer, Spring and Fall for all the glory they reflect from our God and Creator! Think of how boring life could be without the darkness of night, the silence of sleep and the sometimes bitter blanket of snow and ice that marks the turning point between the twilight of Autumn and the rebirth of Spring.
Hi Brian... Thanks for visiting my blog and for your kind comments, too. And thanks for sharing your thoughts about winter! Hope to see you often here.God bless... Debra
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