Winter by Questioning

Gloves, space heaters, discontentment, etc

I spent this past weekend up north in Boston to visit a friend. I woke up the day after flying in to a completely snowed-in city, a Boston winter wonderland. We put on layer after layer, thrifted some wool sweaters, and crunched through the tall snow banks as we strolled around Somerville and Cambridge, taking in all the beauty.

I wanted the Northeast’s insight on wintering, as Boston and its surrounding area was still very much in bleak midwinter. It was good to learn how they adapted: put gloves on for the shortest walks down the block, keep a long-armed ice scraper tucked on the backseat floor of the car, and arm the dogs for winter walks by putting little boots on their paws. Bostonians are prepared for winter.

But even so, frustration and irritation and impatience with winter still seemed present, at least in some. Being prepared seemed to only go so far.

What can we do to change not necessarily our own circumstances, but our responses to them? We are told that we have this power to change our attitudes, but what do we need to get there? I think the thing that may be missing, perhaps, is a perpetual curiosity towards our life, our emotions – the landscape of the heart.

Let’s examine seasonal winter. We cannot avoid having a winter, though some will snowbird to Florida or move elsewhere closer to the equator. And, mind you, we’re completely free to. But if work, life, or calling is keeping us in a place where the winters are difficult and grating on our sense of joy – well, maybe we can disarm those self-built walls of dislike by getting curious about them. Inquire to those vaguely upset feelings and anxious rabbit trails. It would benefit us to ask two questions: “why?” and “what do I need?”

Not so long ago, I started to dread my workday. Not the work itself, not my coworkers. I just hated physically being in the office. I was cold, and it seemed like no matter how much I bundled up, my nose would run and my fingers would start to ache and I would quickly descend into a foul mood once I finished drinking my morning coffee. I would be short in my interactions with others. I would complain. And I didn’t do anything about it, not even by way of curiosity.

My boyfriend and coworker, Jake, noticed this and – bless him – he acted on it by buying me a small space heater to put under my desk. It felt life-changing, or at least life-changing for my workday – which, when you think about it, IS a lot of life. Sitting at my desk became a lot more bearable.

The point of this story is not to say that you need a significant other to take notice of your needs and act on your behalf. I mean to say that perhaps we would better be able to manage some of our daily rage by looking at our lives with curiosity – even the lives we have been living for years – and see how we might adapt in order to thrive better, to move out of survival mode. Maybe that looks like quitting a few things that make you stretched too thin. Alternatively, maybe it means adding a commitment, one that will help you to serve others or combat selfishness. Maybe you need a mobility aid after a long season of sickness. Maybe you need your groceries delivered. Maybe you need to get up 30 minutes earlier to spend time in prayer.

Some of the best ministers I’ve known have brought a gentle curiosity into angry, broken moments, and that has gently brushed away defensive exteriors and made way for tender vulnerability under the surface. Getting to the heart of things allows for the real work of the Spirit to take place, to cut through the noise and speak loving truth. And I think we should do this with the gentle examination of our own hearts.

Some circumstances remain difficult, despite our best efforts. We will not eradicate winters altogether. We are in wartime.

It’s about cultivating and creating in and through the circumstance, not about erasing it – which we often don’t have control over. But let’s get curious, can we? What big things can we bring to the Lord, and what small steps can we take where we are?

What do you need to venture into your least liked spaces?