Cold winter evenings bring a mixed response. It's good to wrap up in a family quilt, feel protected, safe. Often, however, the cold is both without and within, and no amount of cover-hugging changes the chill.
We all seek warmth in different ways. We do something nice, not really looking for compliments but hopeful in the process of doing good, goodness will come back to us. No guarantees, though. None at all. Or we read an article in current events, something heinous, beyond comprehension, and we reread it multiple times, looking for goodness tucked into the folded horrors. Sometimes we find one redeeming act; often, none surface. We make friends, share our heart, finally let the pale lights show through, and in the quiet, find we are forsaken or misunderstood.
We foundation our lives on truths as we know them and trust as we build it, then plop both down in front of ourselves with the child-like hope these things will grow, be honored, be sustainable. We nurture them in the only way we know how and when it isn't enough or our best efforts are ridiculed or rejected, what then? Start over? How many times do we need to do that? Or is this another one of those tricky definitions for life: never quite right, never done, never complete, and far from satisfying or perfect?
When winter breaks and spring trickles in, can things change...will they?
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