They’re inconvenient, these New England winters. The snow… it just FALLS. Sometimes in heaps and piles. Added to that, days and days can go by with cloudy skies and low temps and the piles of white stuff go nowhere. Well, nowhere but UP when, inevitably, another winter storm rolls in.
Winter is just such a demanding season, isn’t it? While summer calls to me, “Yank your hair in a ponytail, slide on the flip-flops and roll! We can go ANYWHERE together!”, winter murmurs in quieter tones, “Don’t forget a hat. And eight gloves for the hands of you and your little ones. Step slowly– it’s icy. Plan your trip carefully– only the main roads will likely be treated.” So much needs to be done before a simple trip to church or the store can be accomplished.
I am a lover of the light, a lover of the quick. Give me sunburned cheeks and legs scraped by brambles over wind-chapped lips and ankles turned on slippery walkways.
But as I take in the world around me– this New England winter that, while colder than usual, is not really that atypically snowy– and, if I let it, I feel my mind slow down. I am able to choose the errands that really matter. We’re never without something to fill our bellies, but if some silvery roots get a little longer than I’d like on the top of my head? So be it. Our Sunday suppers with my parents have been fewer and farther between, but, when we DO manage to get together? It feels all the more special and we can just enjoy one another’s company without feeling the need to come up with grand plans of any kind.
It’s inconvenient to be asked to plan so much, to prepare so much, and, frankly, to rest with my own thoughts so much. Jobs I think should be wildly simple require careful orchestration when the world is covered in a couple feet of white.
This inconvenience, this demand… it stretches me. It challenges me. At the end of the day, it helps me grow.
And, if you think about…
True growth is almost always inconvenient.