Survivor's Guide for Waiting

I will not pretend to have a magical cure for winter blues - the restlessness, impatience, and flat out cold that my body struggles to bear by this time every year. It's March 7, and we woke to a light but legit dusting of snow on the ground. While I love snow, I don't love it in March. By this time, the cold and clouds make me feel a little bit like this.

Waiting for a literal and metaphorical spring is an experience with which I have a lot of experience. Learning to wait with patience, hope, and faith that spring will indeed come (as it does every single year) is an art and skill that I'm still learning after years of practice. I speak mostly of matters of the heart, but I find the seasons an easy platform to grow and nurture those deeper places. 

On this cold, snowy, March day, waiting takes the form of nourishing myself, my family, and our home as much as possible. Our bodies and spirits are sorely depleted of light, warmth, color, and life. And so we must stay the course to make our own. But I'm beyond tired, and this is no small task.

That, of course, is where there must be grace. So much grace for each other and ourselves. This part does not come easily to me and my justice-minded self. But I can feel the light and glory of God soothing my very bones when I allow Her grace to touch me and flow through me to the sweet little lambs that She has miraculously given me. Grace is nourishment indeed, and it's the starting place for my ability to nourish my own heart and my home. Below are some simple but profound moments of nourishment that have kept us (barely) afloat this week.

1. Fire. Always fire. Nothing warms the body and soul in winter like fire. Some people cannot begin a day properly without coffee. For me, in winter, it's fire.

2. Listening to my body and giving it the tender care of food and movement that it needs to thrive. (Insert huge dose of grace for not taking care of myself properly 60+ percent of the time).

3. Surrounding myself with soft colors, reminding me to be soft.

Luscious, pink blanket I'm knitting for Naomi

 Fresh flowers hanging to dry in our living area

4. Playing outside no matter how cold it is. (Bundled in every layer of wool and goose down that we own, of course.) Fresh air, dirt, rocks, and wood are the best medicine for winter blues!

 5. Taking in every tiny sign of spring like the long-awaited miracle that it is.

6. Putting down my camera three minutes earlier than I wanted so I could actually enjoy the fresh air and quiet moments with my garden babies. 

7. Apologizing to my little Bear for being short with her for at least a solid two hours this morning. More grace...

In the end, there is no substitute for the joy and healing of spring, literal or metaphorical. When the sun breathes fresh air back into our stagnate lungs and causes all of creation to dance with joy. When we begin to giggle and marvel at spring's absurdly extravagant colors and emerging light. Soon. But not yet. In the meantime, we wait and nourish and receive all the grace we can possibly stand for our winter-weary souls.