Thank You, Father, for the winter.
Thank You, Father, for the cold.
The cold drives me to snuggle in bed, cradling the Word of Life in needy hands.
The cold drives me to stay warm inside with my family, bundled in blankets, drinking steaming cups of hot chocolate.
Without the cold, I wouldn’t appreciate the warmth of the spring.
Without the cold, I couldn’t enjoy the beauty of fresh, white snow.
Without the cold, the tulips wouldn’t bloom and the wheat wouldn’t grow.
Thank You, Father, for the winter.
Thank You, Father, for the cold.

Dear Lord, Your Word tells me to give thanks in all circumstances, but some circumstances are easier to give thanks in than others. It’s easier to give thanks for prancing through fields of blooming flowers, than slogging through snow-soaked soil. I’m beginning to see, Father, that I’d never have the spring flowers without the winter cold.

It’s like some kind of crazy, divine geometry proof: If X, then Y. If not X, then not Y. If I hadn’t broken it off with Eric, I wouldn’t have married Bill. If Tommy hadn’t died, I wouldn’t have Nick. If Bill hadn’t lost his job, I wouldn’t have moved to Memphis. I wouldn’t be the woman that I am today were it not for the times of bitter cold. I am who I am exactly because of the hard things I’ve gone through. You’re teaching me faith and grace and perseverance and forgiveness and humility through those refining trials.

So, today, I say, “Thank You, Father, for the winter. Thank You, Father, for the cold.”