Outside the wind is howling. Ice clings to the trees and shrubs — blades of leftover grass crunch beneath my feet. My eyes tear from the sting of the cold making me want to hurry home.
Once inside, I’m warmed by the crackle of the fire. The belly of the woodstove glows with red and orange embers while flames consume the wood and warms our home. I throw a couple more logs in, grab a cup of coffee and curl up on the couch for a few minutes of rest.
As I sit and think, I’m reminded of the winter of the soul — seasons of hardship, loss, sorrow … brokenness. Some days it feels as though the season will never end with its darkened days and veiled light.Read more