In the bleak midwinter
Frosty wind made moan
Earth stood hard as iron
Water like a stone
Snow had fallen
Snow on snow on snow

We spent a really lovely week visiting Winnipeg, Manitoba this past summer. We connected with friends and visited old stomping grounds. We ate awesome food and listened to the Canadian accent.

We went there because I wanted my family to connect with some of the people I really love. I spent a few years up there and while I was up there I learned to love more than just the people and their accents.  I learned that I love cold and snow in winter. The weather up there was so cold your spit would freeze and crackle before it hit the ground. It was so cold that when you entered a warm building after a short walk your eye lashes looked like fuzzy tarantula legs from the breath that froze and clung to the lashes. It was so cold if you didn’t wear goggles on the short walk to a building across the street, you could feel the water at the corner of your eyes start to ice up. It was so cold you realized you could literally die if you missed the bus and didn’t have somewhere warm to go. I loved it. It reminded me that I was alive.

Upon returning to the United States I found myself in winter waiting, waiting – year after year – for more snow to fall. Year after year remember waiting for the cold and for the ice. And I remember that just about every year people around me would be moaning about the snow that continued to sit on the ground and the long, cold days.

I get it. I now live where it’s gray. Winters are bleak, if you will, but they’re not as cold as they had been. It’s no longer frosty wind and earth hard as iron. Snow hasn’t fallen a lot this year. We’ve had snow two times this year and it stuck twice, but then turned somewhat balmy and people are now running around in t-shirts. It’s sad. Actually, it’s scary. I’m still longing for more snow to fall, partly because I like it and partly because that’s what is supposed to happen in this corner of the world during winter months.

Of course, I tire of the bleakness, too. What I love about spring is the reality of life that peaks through the ground. Little buds of green joy just waiting to be seen so they can shout out and show off their glory! But the buds are already coming. The mums that I failed to cut back in fall already have life coming in at the bottom and my heart sinks.

Today I’m looking out our windows and thinking about the up-side-down Kingdom. The first shall be last, the King comes as a powerless babe, strength comes through weakness, etc. Somehow, it growth in the months that are supposed to be frozen feels like an up-side-down reality, but it doesn’t bring a view of the world that empowers. It brings dystopia.

What does this mean for our little child? We haven’t gone out a lot to play recently. Partly that’s because I’m lazy and don’t want to take the time to put warmer clothes on my child, but partly it’s because the soil isn’t frozen. There’s no snow. It’s just mud. Who wants to throw your child outside when it’s warm enough for mud to be everywhere, but cold enough that getting wet and muddy is miserable?

The bleakness for me some days isn’t the literal bleakness. It’s the angst that things aren’t right in the world. That it’s all messed up. That the leaves aren’t supposed to be pushing up through the ground. That my child should be experiencing the obnoxious reality of putting on all your clothes and going outside only to come in five minutes later to take everything off and pee. Shouldn’t that be everyone’s experience in these winter months?

Shucks. It’s not our experience right now. Our poor kid isn’t experiencing the Dutch kid experience of playing outside in all kinds of weather, but maybe if enough parents and grandparents and teachers notice this shift they’ll start to think more about climate change and our need to do something about it. My hope is that we’ll get another winter or two that will dump cold snow and offer more frosty wind that moans. Here’s to hope!