WELCOME

A very real occurrence here in this arctic world of mine is that it's a process in the winter to defrost the car. If you don't have a garage where you can park your car away from the elements, any snow or ice buildup cakes onto your windshield and side windows, leaving you with quite the job just to leave the house when you need to. You have to allot extra time just to make sure your line of sight is clear enough so you can drive safely. Anybody living in a cold, wintry climate knows the struggle is real. So turning the heater on full blast, the scraping and watching the ice melt on the windshield is a common sight and one that I've been used to for many years. 

I caught myself doing it again: slapping on a smile when nothing inside of me feels alive. Saying that I'm "fine" when the whole world around me doesn't feel fine and all I want is to bring back what's been lost and to stop the soul-bleeding and the suffering and to have the ground quit shaking all the time. This comes from a heart that's tired. Honesty spilling out of a spirit that is weary and flesh that is weak. And somehow, God knows. He always does. And judge me for being here, He does not.    

I've lost count of how many times I've spoken the words.  

Almost seven years ago, when my best friend died, a part of me died too. 

As I stood in the living room and stared at the seat he once occupied, I couldn't help but notice the emptiness. He was bigger than life to me. My uncle by choice. Always the life of the party. And every time you went to his house, with the exception of a warm, summer day, the wood stove was always going. Always warm and inviting. Just like him. Just like his heart. You felt at home every time you stepped in. Every time he gave you a hug. It's who he was. But now... oh, how the irony hit me like a ton of bricks: the first visit over to this house since his passing and the wood stove that once spoke all things cozy, was now cold and lifeless. The house had a slight chill. And so did my heart. It felt a bit less warm as well. A sadness pervading it as we gathered to share a meal while fully aware that we are all missing something special because he isn't here.   

I saw this post on Instagram the other day and it really resonated with me. The post simply posed this deep question...

 In the cold of winter, as a few of us gathered in our church for choir rehearsal, we noticed the two young ladies walk into the back. They gave us a tiny wave of acknowledgement, but we'd never seen them before. There was obviously a reason they had stepped into the building, but none of us knew the story. 

 "I thank you, Lord, for this new year - 

 It somehow feels oddly fitting that the year should end with an unusual cold snap around these parts. That winter should settle in with such force and chill, driving us all to cozy inside and wait out the drafts and darkness with a forever-hope in warmer days to come with the impending new year. Communities just north of where I live have been pounded by hurricane-force winds off and on for weeks, causing the temperate to plummet with the wind chill and wreaking havoc on the towns and their residents. It's been a season of resilience - of accepting factors we cannot change and enduring unwanted disruption with a heart of courage. 

 Picture yourself in the moment...  

Carols play in the background as I sit down to write, tree lights twinkling in the ever-decreasing daylight as the darkness settles on the wintry world outside. This is the holiday season to me: a call into the coziness of fireside evenings and comfort and joy while the still-chill of the white scenery outside reminds me that this is the time of hiddenness and reset - of the earth being dormant for awhile so that it may one day wake up again to Spring's warm invitation. These cold, dark winter days are what I think of when I contemplate the Christmas season and it's also what I think of when I reflect on the significance of a singular dark night so long ago that changed everything.   

Staring at the Christmas tree, my eyes fill with tears. I'm reminded of a song that's become especially dear to me in this holiday season... lyrics that speak of the passing of time, how memories pop up during this time of year, bringing with them a little loneliness and longing. How a moment takes one by surprise and brings a tear as nostalgia for old times as you knew them sets in: people you loved, traditions you miss, places no longer part of your world. That's been how I've felt lately. In the wake of so much heavy, my mind has run back to times past and made me miss certain people or places or things that used to anchor me that are now only memories of the past. For some reason, it's like the grief has hit me harder than normal and that song - oh, that sweet song - has really spoken for me all the things I'm feeling in the heart.