In spite of living in
different states, my dear friend Beth repeatedly teaches me by her example how
to live a balanced life. A true contemplative, Beth is not only in touch with
nature, she genuinely opens her spirit and heart to the gifts that nature has to offer.
By the way, Beth is a fabulous writer. Check out her blog, “The Goodness of the Garden…Year Round.”
For a Caribbean island
girl like me for whom winter and its darkness is very difficult, it is a
undeniable blessing to be reminded by Beth that winter is an introspective time, a
quiet time, that will be followed by the new growth of Spring.
I have learned that, when I allow myself to
feel the depth of winter, I appreciate and understand the “nakedness” of our barren
winter trees as a sacred sign—all their brokenness exposed. Damaged, tattered, shaped by the ice storms
over the years, our uncovered trees unexpectedly become a consecrated reminder
of my own inner brokenness and sinfulness—and God’s healing presence.
This is winter in all
its glory, the embracing of opposite extremes: Frost and fire; Barrenness and gestation;
Freezing and melting; Dreary and sparkling; Shivers and hearth.
It’s a downright
miracle.
