The highway stretches and bends white.
The grandgirls are riding with us. Grace is playing with her new Kindle Fire, and it sounds like she’s spraying paint in the back seat. Then it’s quiet, and she is reading. She shows me where she’s highlighted some words.
Lillee sleeps.
I amuse myself by snapping pictures on the move–with both the big-girl camera and The Droid.
We’re on the way home after a New Year’s Eve raclette dinner, silly games, and gift exchange.
I think of how my mom would have been 83 yesterday, about the pork-and-bean breads my dad baked for the adults and how he wrapped Hershey chocolate bars with five-dollar bills for the grandgirls. He brought some trinkets for game prizes. (Mom used to collect little presents. We might end up with a pen that didn’t work or a tin half filled with solid perfume.)
It’s been a hard season for him, and he was quiet when we stopped to say goodbye.
We laughed and had fun this weekend, but still, there was an undercurrent of sadness.
Of spirits in winter.
I think about how I somehow slipped Saturday and lost my balance as my shoe flew off and how I crashed into the glass door of the coffee shop. And how I collected myself and pretended nothing was wrong when I purchased the last-minute gift cards. But how later I couldn’t walk because of the pain (level 9 on the scale) in my right foot and how I spent an hour in the emergency room.
Just a sprain, but I went back to Sissy’s with crutches and pain meds and icing instructions.
And the admonition that healing time will depend on how kind I am to the foot. How well I’m able to surrender to the pain.
The pain is actually a gift. To remind me I’m not ready to bear full weight.
The landscape outside is bleak and tangled.
But it has its own beauty.
The trees hypnotize me. Pines sag under the weight of snow. Hardwoods stand skeletonized. Undressed. Fruitless. Some branches and trunks have fallen. Pruned by the elements. The broken that will one day provide food and shelter.
They have no choice but to surrender to winter.
And wait for spring.
How interesting that the New Year, a new beginning, at least for Michiganders, is rooted in the heart of winter.
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens. ~Ecclesiastes 3:1 (NIV)
Sandy, your words are somehow infused with a something special these days – a touch of grace. Take this winter time, dear friend, and let it do its work. Spring will come.
Praying for healing of body and spirit.
You know as I played a little with the color on these, the red popped. Hope in hiding.
Your words are a blessing, Linda. So are you.
Great Post Sandy. I enjoyed the way you incorporated pictures into the ‘winter thoughts’ so to speak. Looking back on life and growing, especially as we get older, is a sort of ‘winter’ experience. Being from northern Wisconsin doesn’t hurt any either! There’s a certain beauty in bare woods and snow.
God Bless!
Mike
Thanks, Mike. And it’s those winter times, the seemingly dead times, that ultimately produce fruit, right? Our seasons show that clearly, right?
The trees surrendered to winter and you are surrendering to your pain–both physical and emotional. And as Linda said there is a grace that rises in your words in your journey toward spring. God bless you and wrap you warm in His love.
Thanks so much, Dea. So grateful to have connected with you this past year. Praying for heaped-up grace in your life this year.
“The pain is actually a gift. To remind me I’m not ready to bear full weight.” I absolutely agree with what Linda said. There is deep soul work going on in you in this winter season.
I don’t like winter. I don’t like cold. I truly understand why the curse on Narnia was “always winter and never Christmas.” I need the hope of Christmas interrupting my winter seasons. Sometimes I wish it came later in winter.
That line is in there? I need to go back and re-read that!
In a seemingly barren time spring waits in hiding for the promise to come.
If only we have eyes to see. Winter is a real faith-building time.
Winter has it’s own lovely portion. The cold doesn’t help me, though. Our winter has been less intense. But I always look forward to that one stretch in April when the trees begin to be gray-green and then explode. In the meantime, I just try to appreciate the blessing that comes with Winter. God didn’t prepare it as a “nothing”, and I have to trust Him for that.
Hope your pain disappears very quickly.
So far our weather has been pretty mild. This weekend was the first real blast, but it’s expected to warm a bit again. I’m learning to accept the winter seasons and see the beauty in them. My foot is much better, though I can tell I’ve been on it too much today. 🙂
I agree with Linda, Sandy. Beauty breathes through your sorrow. Isn’t that a strange kind of grace? Winter sleeps and when spring comes…new again! Praying healing and rest for you, sweet friend.
Beauty breathes through sorrow. That might find its way into a poem. 🙂 That you all are seeing something different in my writing lately makes my heart swell.
Sorry about your foot. Glad about your soul.
😀 😀
I so enjoyed your snow pictures. I love snow but after the first big one I’m ready for spring. I think my soul needs the winter to prepare. God teaches me in the winter months.
I hope your foot heals quickly.
There is so much work that happens in the silence of winter. We may not even be aware of it. The foot is already healing. 🙂
Oh, Sandra, it is so true…be kind to your foot; respect the pain…I was not kind to my ankle when I hurt it so it took longer to heal and now I have permanent damage…Likewise, be kind and gentle with yourself as you grieve…praying that God will uphold you and comfort you…it is hard to be in winter…thank you for sharing your wise insights.
“spirits in winter”…such a sad beauty that finds it way into times like this. And with JESUS, Christmas is ever in your hearts.
I am sorry for your pain, glad you got to spend time with your dad, hoping the foot heals! sweet post – may not be a bad thing that you have to slow down not – “be still and know that I am God” He wants to begin the healing:) God bless!
Yeah – the line about not being able to bear full weight got me good. Yes. And there most certainly is some new beauty sending its lovely tendrils through your writing this winter season – winter in every sense. We’re here at mom’s tonight – she rented us a guest apartment. Tomorrow, we dig into the final prep of packing and sifting and sorting. Sigh. This is what we must do. And it is winter here, even though it was 80 degrees today.
Hi Sandy…
I agree with Nancy on the deep soul growth taking place through our winter seasons. I’m thankful that while the soul-less trees lay dormant through winter, we have a great and tender God who weaves quiet growth and strength in our soul as he uses the colors of winter, grief, and change to show us his great faithfulness. Sending you love in the waiting. Excited for the 13th.
Sometimes the work of winter – often the hardest – is the best because it is deep work where things can’t be seen on the surface. We had raclette too for our New Year’s Eve celebration. A family favorite here. Always enjoy your posts!
It is a hard lesson, sorrow, but it deepens the soul, and enlarges our capacity to know simple joys and to offer others compassion and empathy. To know great sorrow allows you to eventually know great joy. I speak from experience.
The first year after my husband passed was the most painful year of my life. God held my hand, nurtured me, consoled me. He gave me this promise: I believe to see the good things of the Lord in the land of the living. Expect the Lord, do manfully, and let thy heart take courage, and wait thou for the Lord. Psalm 27:13-14.
Your post is beautifully written, Sandy and the pictures a lovely addition, as always. May your grieving find comfort in Him.