In The Bleak Midwinter

I often find myself baffled at why the long winter months often stretch out with a sense of misery.  The first snow of winter is so full of excitement and joy.  The sparkle of the snow fills you with enchantment, and you can't wait to get out and make mischief in the white fluff - no matter your age.  Yet, as the cold drags on, the brightness seems to dim to a dull gray... and leave you feeling the same.

This weeks has seemed to be a week of those grim days.  Midwinter is here, with all the blah feelings which seem to come with it.  The skies are gray and you feel like winter will be here forever.  I do not find it at all surprising that so many people suffer depression during the winter months.  Why wouldn't they?  It is a time where you will find it easier to grow angry or annoyed or just downright miserable.  At least, that is what I note during this time of year.  I've lived in vastly different parts of this country, but I've noted midwinter seems to impact people the same way wherever you live.

It is one of those midwinter, gray days where you long to cuddle up under a blanket with the furry critter of your choice and a good book.  The world doesn't stop turning, though, no matter how you feel about the cold and the weather and the gray skies.  The business of daily life continues.  Even if we have to drag ourself out, it is what we do because we have a life to live.

I used enjoy checking in with my friends and family on social media/email, but these days I dread it more than ever.  I'm uncertain if it is because of the midwinter blues or because of the political climate.  These days everyone wants to talk politics and I vow it feels like everyone (no matter their affiliations) lives just to upset the other side.  I have never seen a world so split.  All this anger simmering beneath the surface upsets me a great deal, but I'm at a loss as to how to mend the rift.

Earlier on, I used to tell people if they really want to make this world a better place, put your money and time on actually doing something, no matter how small.  Help the homeless, volunteer at a shelter, just take a few minutes to help an elderly person with their groceries.  Something, anything instead of this ugly hatred.  Rage plus rage doesn't bring about peace.  It never has.  I feel like no one wants to hear it, though.  Over the summer I was insulted by a family member who felt that I shouldn't have a driving desire to help the homeless of my hometown because "people are homeless because they want to be homeless."  I was shocked, insulted, distressed, particularly as this came from a highly educated woman.

Some of the churches in my community have joined together to start a local Room in the Inn program in which each night a different church will feed and give a warm, safe bed to the homeless so they aren't out on the streets in this deadly weather.  I'm so glad, so proud.  It seems to be such a small thing, but it really isn't.  A few weeks ago a homeless member of our community had made camp on the railroad tracks and were struck by the horrified conductor who did all they could to prevent the accident.  It is simply awful, yet so many choose to look away and spend their emotion elsewhere.

These things trouble me.  As a Christian woman, I try hard always to do the right thing, even when it is difficult to do.  It feels like my faith is being torn down and denied these days by far too many people.  As troubling as that may be, I am also aware that they couldn't tear us down if we had not given them reasons across the years.  All the same, these things trouble me.  It is even more important to me that we exhibit the goodness and light of our Savior these days.  Giving an example of resentment or hypocrisy is not going to help our cause at all.  The answer to all these troubles - at least the answer I receive over and over again - is to give love to others, over and over again.  Love them through acts of kindness.  Love them through the anger or hatred or rudeness.  In the end, isn't love all we leave behind?

During this bleak, midwinter, remember to embrace love, even if you feel the cold, miserable grayness of this time of year.  Love is the answer to all.

About Reflecting...

Today I decided to begin a new blog.  This is a momentous occasion for me.  This is far from my first blog.  My former publisher required me to attempt to build my "brand" via blogs.  I used to dread sitting down to write my blog entry.  I'm not trying to sell anything this time around, though.  

Generally speaking, I am a private and I view social media as a stalker's best friend.  I have always been quiet, even as a child, although under the right circumstances I can be loud and nutty with the best of them.  Most people cannot comprehend the courage it takes to make your voice heard when you an intense introvert.  

Writing does not come easily to me now, and that pains me.  I used to write little fairy tales for my cousin before I even started Kindergarten.  Words used to flow from me into paper (or typewriter, word processor and now computer).  I wrote to friends and family, pen pals, stories, poems...  I lived for the almighty word.  I have lost that gift.  In some ways I think it is a blessing in that I find it easier now to interact with the real world around me because my head isn't stuck on formatting a plot line.  All the same, sometimes the loss rears its ugly head and makes me feel like I've lost myself.  

If you aren't aware, I had a heart attack when I was 38 years old.  It was difficult, and I'm still on that path to recovery.  I have found it to be a long process.  I have memory lapses, and things I still do not remember.  I am a different person from the one I was before.  Even my son says I smell different.  My tastebuds are different.  My preferences in almost everything are changed.  It takes me longer to think of what to say, or write in this case, and I suspect I often do not express exactly what I meant to say.  It will be two years at the end of May since my surgery, and I still have not regained everything. I suspect some of those gifts are lost forever.

We can call it a long, drawn-out process.  I prefer to call living.  I refuse to give up because I've lost a few things.  I'm not as smart as I once was.  I'm not as young as I once was, either.  I have gray hair and need bifocals now, but I still get up and do what needs doing.  I know what it is to despair in times of darkness, to give in, to feel like it is hopeless.  I also know what it is to be carried away from that pain in arms of light, to be loved and comforted through the terror and pain.

There is such beauty in this world, but too often we can fall so deep into the swamp of despair we can't even see it any longer.  That's the life I had before my heart attack.  Deathly experiences such as that truly put things into perspective.  Although sometimes it may be hard, I will give all I can to others, because in the end, all we can leave behind is love.  It is that simple.  That is the secret to my life, in any case.  Love.  I hope when I die (again) that is what I will be remembered for.  I can't think of a greater legacy than that.