Multitude Mondays: On Surviving Winter and Seeing Past the Gray

Breathing deep the crisp air and tilting chins toward the toasty sun, we set cooped-up feet free on a hill of powdered grace.

A week of sub-zero wind chills had left us bound by walls and frost.

Our goodwill had withered behind winter’s hedges like the week-old daisies on our kitchen table.

And I didn’t even realize how desperately I needed this escape, this break from the messes that pile high beneath our roof, until I hear my own laughter ring happy. 

And listen to the kids’ echoes as they race across the snow. 

Funny how frost on those window panes back home restrict my view, but here, the cold crystals amplify the beauty.

I think of those years of endless winter, when my vision grew dim with the gray of ingratitude. 

I remember how my soul had hunkered numb behind narrow hedges of discontent; how I’d peered at the world through the pane of apathy, wondering how beauty could be found in all of the grit.

And my goodwill had withered then, too; my faith shriveled small as I’d waited for a different season to sweep me into a better place.

But then one morning with baby on my hip, and toddler smearing milk-soaked Cheerios across the counter, I read it in His Word, an invitation right there on the splattered pages of my Bible propped up by the kitchen sink.

I soaked in the words, once; then twice- the eyes are the windows to the soul, open your eyes wide in wonder and belief, and your body will fill up with light…..(Matthew 6:22, MSG)

And I wondered as I scraped scrambled eggs off the scalded pan if there really was a different way to see. 

A way to see even in the cold seasons of gray and grit.

Then I heard of this mama not so unlike me who had fought hard for joy, a pig farmer’s wife who had dared to count the frost on her window as a gift.

And I detected His whisper above the whining of the preschooler who didn’t want to brush her teeth–Could you give thanks for even this? For those baby teeth that need to be cleaned and the hands that hold that pink toothbrush and the lips that holler your name in the middle of the night?

It was a gentle invitation to stop waiting for spring, to open the windows of my heart and give thanks right there in the middle of all the hedges-the laundry piles and the drippy noses, the juice-splatters and the sleepless nights. 

Thanks in all things, in all seasons.

If you live squinty-eyed in greed and distrust, your body is a dank cellar. If you pull the blinds on your windows, what a dark life you will have! (Matthew 6:23, MSG)

Chose to count instead of complain.

To live in the moment rather than wishing through it.
To give thanks for what I had instead of coveting what I wanted.

 
Then one day I woke to another mountain of laundry and a string of missing shoes and a crabby baby with a diaper rash, and I found myself smiling anyway.

And I realized that the windows of my soul were no longer bound by winter’s gray.

The only hedge that hemmed me in was the shimmering shield of grace…

Hannah flops onto the blanket of white, stretches out her arms into angel’s wings and casts me a flush-faced grin:

“I know it’s winter, but I just feel like spring!” 

“Maybe spring is just a state of mind,” I reply as I slide onto the blanket of snow beside her.

Or a state of seeing.

“If you can really see –the weight of Glory always tips the scales for joy”  (Ann Voskamp, 1000 Gifts)

The Overflow:  When hard pressed, I cried to the Lord; he brought me into a spacious place. –Psalm 118:5

Seeing all this grace and giving thanks…

1814. Friday night fun- a house packed with girls, giggles, and glitter 🙂

1815. Sledding on Sabbath- bright sun, cold snow.

1816. Maggie waving at us as she sings in church- her finger waving wildly “This little light of mine…”

1817. My husband in the Word before  he leaves for work

1818. Luke visiting the elementary school and sharing about schools in Honduras.

1819. Maggie blowing bubbles in the swimming pool.

1820. A husband who tells me I’m pretty.

1821. Luke humming worship tunes as he figures out algebra.