There’s a beauty in the starkness of winter. The hard black lines against crystal white brilliance. The miracle of an infinite number of tiny individual flakes seemingly broken off from the white sky and falling to the earth.
But I lose my wonder sometimes in the grey sky and endless stretches of monotone. I might even lose myself on occasion. Trapped, buried, hiding where it feels safe. Inside by myself.
Winter hurts—my hands, my joints, my mind—and I’m tempted to stop there.
I’m tempted to miss the snippets of color captured in the trickle of stream, the curl of peeling bark, the echo of laughter. If I’m not paying attention, I miss the world carpeted pink in reflected sunrise, the soft fuzz of a willow catkin.
Over the last few days, I’ve spent time breathing—finding space, rest, direction. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do this whole year. I don’t have a special focus word or really a plan for the year. I find that I don’t even knew what next month should look like…or next week. But I know today.
Today, I see these things…and then I show them to you.
I hope you enjoy these little bits of winter’s wonder. Praying that you will find beauty in your journey.