Winter: Is there any good in this most difficult season?

“As long as the earth endures, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night will never cease.” 

—Genesis 8:22

Gray skies cast its gloom over me and frigid temperatures kept me captive inside my own home. The landscape, dead and devoid of any color except brown, caused me to question why anyone would like winter. Certainly I didn’t, and recently I had made that known to anyone who would listen, declaring that if I could I would retreat to warmer climates during the dreaded season.

My attitude had been poor since I threw over the page of my perpetual calendar on December 31^st and read the familiar verse, which quoted the very words of God Himself: “As long as the earth endures, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night will never cease” (Genesis 8:22).

I focused on the words “cold” and “winter” and groaned at the reminder. I knew it meant I had to endure the long stretch of months, holed up inside my four walls, with little evidence of life beyond. Nothing growing in the surrounding fields or flowerbeds, nothing green except the algae growing on my siding.

With all this negativity, I had to give this matter pause. God said as long as the earth remains, we will have seasons. That will not change. And as long as I remain on this earth, I will have to endure winter (if I can’t escape to Florida). To make the experience more palatable, even positive, I decided I needed to change. So, I prayed, Lord, if everything You make is good (1 Timothy 4:4), that must mean that winter is good. Help me to see the good in winter. I am keeping my eyes wide-open.

Lifting Weights: How is being weak a good thing?

Lifting Weights: How is being weak a good thing?

That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

—2 Corinthians 12:10

Side lateral raises. Even hearing those three words brings pain, let alone actually doing them. Last February I started a regular exercise program that involves toning with hand weights three times a week. I started with 2-pound weights, then moved up to 3-pound weights, and was certainly ready for 4-pound weights months ago. But I had added the hand weights to my Christmas list, so rather than buy them myself I waited to see if I would get them. Sure enough, my daughter and family left them beneath the tree. But instead of 4-pound weights, I got 5-pounders. I tried them out the other day and noticed a big difference from the ones I was used to. I struggled to raise them, especially for the side lateral exercises, which have given me trouble from the get-go. Although not confirmed by a physician, I think I have a slight tear in my left deltoid, the triangular shaped muscle that covers the outer shoulder and uppermost part of the arm. Even though the muscle complains, I press through to lift the weights, knowing “no pain equals no gain.” In order to get stronger and build muscle mass, I must push myself, although sometimes I’d rather call for someone to help me lift the weight. But of course, I know that would defeat the purpose.

Busy as a Beaver: What trail of evidence are you leaving?

“By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

—John 13:35

“See that?” my father gestured toward a tree trunk sharpened like the tip of a pencil, then toward another limb gnawed on both sides.

It sure looked like evidence of beaver building to me. Then Dad led the group of us family members to the water’s edge, its level higher than I had seen in a while. He pointed to the dam.

I took in the scene, my eyes scanning the glassy surface, punctuated with a mound of limbs and leaves, my ears tuned to the relaxing fall of the water. Peace washed over me. A nice reprieve from the busyness of life.

Drawn closer, I stepped to the edge and followed the flow of the stream, my feet crunching dry leaves and crackly twigs. Keeping watch for obstacles that could cause a stumble, I caught glance of a trail of wood chips leading to the chewed remains of a branch. I lowered my eyes to inspect the pile, marveling at the work of the creatures. The evidence was all around; the beavers had built a home. And I was standing in their domicile.