Hey Y'all, how goes it in your neck of the woods?
Here, in Wisconsin, the White Death has begun, and this year, for the first time, I am seeing it for what it really is (to me) and I thought it might be helpful for some of y'all to understand a bit more what it is if I explained it.
I talked to my mama today and found out that in my gorgeous home state of Mississippi it was 50 degrees, rainy, and humid... Winter perfection. It's muddy, and slippery, and dreary. Tomorrow it could be 30 or it could be 70. And to me, it is both wonderful and delightful.
Here, on the other hand, it was a grand whopping two degrees when I got in my car to go to school at 6:45 this morning. As pulled out of my driveway my car bucked and groaned and protested (yes I let it warm up for awhile before leaving) and to be honest I completely understand. My tires squeaked and rubbed on the ice that had formed 'snards' on the mud flaps. Mud flaps. What is mud exactly?? Oh yes, it's that gooey brown substance that I grew up hosing off my daddy's vehicles in the roasting hot summer sunshine. It's also something that I don't think I've actually ever gotten on my vehicle since I live here, which makes me incredibly sad. But that's off topic. My point is that it was very very cold here.
I've been trying to explain to Jared the overwhelming grief that settles on my heart when it snows. The other day someone asked me what I thought of the snow and when I admitted that it feels like death to me someone else said "Well at least its beautiful death!" I understand this sentiment. The snow is beautiful. It is truly lovely when it lies unspoiled and perfect on the fields. I can see the beauty, just as I can see the beauty in a genuine fur coat, that doesn't make the fact that it symbolizes death any less real to me.
To me, snow is strange, it is cold, it is slippery, it is foreign, and most of all it is absolutely unrelenting. There is no escaping snow. It wraps the world in its icy grip and it simply does not let go. I am starting to learn that spring always comes, but the truth is that to me it doesn't feel like its going to. When the snow falls, I cry. That's just how it goes at our house. With all my heart I MISS the rain and the mud and the warmth and the changing weather.
So, all of this is true, and no matter what I do or say it's not going to change anytime soon, I know that. BUT, this is what I am learning. There is life in the White Death. God called me, a very happy to forever stay in Mississippi girl, to this far away and frozen land. He brought me into a family of people who were raised here and who feel exactly about this place as I do about my home state. He placed me in a tiny house by the railroad tracks with a man who thrives on the beauty of snow. He gifted me with the gracious love of a whole church full of people who are accustomed to snow and ice and winter and who actually think of it as a joy to live in. To all these people, I am the odd one, which has historically made it much tougher for me to cope with the White Death. But GOD, who called me here, is gracious and loving and gentle and He is teaching me that I can embrace the beauty in the White Death and lean on Him to get me through the eternally long months of winter in this frozen tundra.
So here is the moral of my long sad tale: for me, the winter is a time of grief. It is the time of year when home feels a million miles away and when I am reminded every moment that I am not in the South, that I am not in a place that is normal or comfortable for me, and that I must make a place for myself here, no matter how frozen it is. I know that to many this may seem trivial, but for just a moment stop and consider what your White Death is, and know this: God's grace is sufficient for it too, no matter how unrelenting or icy it may seem. Amen.
