I have a low tolerance for winter. The cold. The darkness. The freezing-off-of-my-appendages-when-I-travel-to-the-root-cellar.
What? I don’t have a root cellar? Fine. But I do use a car and it’s at least 10 feet from my front door.
By mid-January, I like to close my curtains, crank up the heat, and pretend it’s summer. Thanks to George Foreman’s grill and my son’s ant farm, we can simulate a summer picnic in our living room at the drop of a hat (or more specifically, the spill of a soda can). Turn on some John Philip Sousa and light some sparklers you can almost convince yourself it’s July.
But then lately I’ve been feeling guilty about my attitude. I mean, without winter, I would appreciate non-winter far less. Also, thanks to winter, the disease-carrying bugs are wiped out, the farm lands are insulated, and we spend more time on the phone with friends and family (so says research).
Today in my Bible reading I came to this verse in Genesis: “While the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, shall not cease” (8:22).
And I realized with a particular snap of clarity that God planned for winter to be part of the yearly story.
And so I will praise Him in it.