Holding our Breath
Till every dead limb
And knotted branch
Comes to life again
My tiny speck of planet Earth looks like this:
To the locals’ dismay I actually like it. I understand the haters – dangerous roads, health hazards, those who need shelter, crazy heating costs.
Don’t imagine that this winter love comes from a “sunny disposition”. Nope. I fight my own negativity. All. The. Time.
But here are ten reasons why a snowy cold winter is still a rock star:
1. WHITE, WHITE, WHITE – It could be ugly brown or grey but we get WHITE, fluffy stuff. It reflects and magnifies our little bit of sunlight.
2. NO BUGS. NO WEEDS – Without these temperatures, bugs, plant diseases, and weeds would be a disaster come summer.
3. YEARLY RESET – The land rests and restores. Without it there would not be enough nutrients for green growing things. I need that reset too.
As we celebrate the holidays, I am grateful for my blog readers, businesses, artists, and activists. Each year I meet more and more people creatively using their talents for good.
To the Market – Survivor Made Goods
Purposeful Design – Handmade furniture that creates jobs
The Feather and Arrow – Quilts that support anti-slavery efforts (pictured above)
Better Way Imports – Fair Trade goods
Mercy Rising – book to help you find your place in the world of compassionate giving
Mercy Rising – scarf shop – Slavery prevention in Asia
Blessings for Baher – Help a family recover from a medical crisis
Forever WE Dolls – A doll for you and a doll for kids with cancer
Compassion International – Sponsor a Child
College Park Church - Build Schools in India
The Mantis and the Moon – Son of Laughter
After All These Years – Andrew Peterson
Mortar and Stone – Jill Phillips
Mysteries of the Kingdom – Aaron J Robinson
The Harpooner – Thomas McKenzie
On Being a Writer – Charity Singleton Craig
Jamin Still – oil painting, prints including Christmas Cards
Joe Sutphin – illustration
Joetography – Photographs/Art Prints
Our dinner table discussion started innocently enough when I said something about my husband and four step-sons being the “men” of the house. I don’t even remember why, but as quickly as the words escaped my lips, our youngest said, “You called us ‘men.’ We’re not men are we?” At age eleven, “man” was a stretch.
“I just meant that you all are ‘males,’” I said, trying to back my way out of the discussion.
“But you said ‘men,’” he replied. And he was right. “How old do you have to be to become a man?”
This year has felt like a year of rain. With a hard year of uncertainty, we both were bone weary, and even packing up the car seemed a chore. Where in the world would we find the soul energy to interact with new people?
(image @Mark Geil)