to see past winter, into spring
the february 2022 newsletter
Hey friends,
These are weird, intense days we’re living through. But aren’t they almost always weird and intense lately? Feels like I should just make a template for this newsletter: Here’s the weirdness we’re dealing with this month, and this is what the Lord is showing me.
I guess that’s sort of what we do already. But I promise, there’s no template. I don’t even want to talk about the weirdness in the world right now; you can follow me on Telegram for that.
Here’s my exciting news this month: I am 45, and I now have reading glasses to go with the white streak in my hair that is trackable by NASA.
To cope with that, I’ve entered a mid-life obsession with poultry and we are gathering all the things to prepare for chickens and quail over the next couple of months. Friends, I am stupidly, ridiculously excited. We picked up a cage from my dad’s house a few days ago, and I gushed to him about the chick order I placed that morning. He seemed skeptical about my enthusiasm until I said, “Dad, I am excited like a little girl waiting on her new dollhouse,” which I think convinced him. He remembers something about that, though it was decades ago.
So the chicks are ordered and we’re waiting on quail, the kids are eager, the coop plans are coming together. And by “coming together” I mean we’ve made a vague decision about where the coop is going and what it will be constructed from, and hopefully that will allay any last-minute panic of throwing it all together as soon as the snow has melted enough to allow us to do so. Because right now it’s still very much winter in Alaska, and the timing might cut it a little close.
It didn’t help that we had about ten days straight of snow this month. One day it blew sideways, and our east windows were covered even as water dripped off the gutters at 34 degrees. At least a foot of dense, wet, heavy snow stood in the driveway, and it was even deeper in the places where the wind drifted it. The east sides of the trees looked like frosted mini wheats, and as clumps of snow flew off the branches with a gust of wind, they smacked the windows and the siding of the house, startling us inside and leaving pockmarks all over the ground.
But spring is coming.
It’s only February, I know. The garden bed is still buried in snow and we haven’t driven our car for a week. But we’re tired of this season and we’re ready to see things move that have been stuck, to see things reformed that have been corrupted, to see things restored that have been broken, to see things that have seemed dead come back to life.
Because it’s time. We don’t have to tolerate the darkness just because it’s winter.
It was during the drive to Palmer a few days ago that I got a text that made me bite my lip until I realized it was about to bleed. Fortunately my daughter was driving, so I read it and looked at the attachment, and quietly responded as though the world did not hiccup in its spinning.
Have you ever fought for a victory and won, only to lose it about eighteen months later? This felt like a cruel joke that made us wonder what the point of winning was in the first place. It’s been a long, dark season in that area, but in that text we saw the first signs of spring again. I hope it sticks this time, and blooms into summer.
"Well, you know how it feels if you begin hoping for something that you want desperately badly; you almost fight against the hope because it is too good to be true; you've been disappointed so often before. That was how Digory felt. But it was no good trying to throttle this hope. It might - really, really, it just might be true. So many odd things had happened already."
– C.S. Lewis, The Magician’s Nephew
One of the ways God transforms and matures us is to let us see people as they really are, and yet also see them as He made them to be. He calls us to see past winter, into spring – and not just for other people, but also for ourselves.
As much as we want, we cannot force spring to come. We can’t force people to heal, situations to resolve, criminals to repent, or transitions to come easily. We can just plant seed and more seed, watering and praying and pursuing our own wholeness, knowing that the snow will melt and we need to make sure we’re ready for it.
It could be 17 below and the circumstance you’re facing chills you to the bone. The trees lining the road may be covered in so much frost they look transparent as you drive past, like spirits hovering. But underneath where we can’t see, the roots are digging deep into the soil and they’re getting ready for the sap to run.
Though I walk in the midst of trouble,
you preserve my life;
you stretch out your hand against the wrath of my enemies,
and your right hand delivers me.
The Lord will fulfill his purpose for me;
your steadfast love, O Lord, endures forever.
Do not forsake the work of your hands.- Psalm 138:7-8
It may still be very much winter in your finances, or health, or a relationship, or in the events of the world. But we are listening and abiding and moving in the ways we can while we wait for the snow to melt: Learning to grow food. Reading important books. Making healthier choices. Taking the log out of our own eyes. Forgiving big and little sins in others, and in ourselves.
We push the temperature above freezing with every step of obedience. We prepare the ground for new life, and sustenance, and joy.
Every time the sun comes out, our branches remember what budding is like.
Praying for you,
Shannon
P.S. Links for you!
Oh My Soul on audio is now complete. You can get it and also access several other exclusive features (with new content added every week) by upgrading your subscription. The director’s cut audio edition of Upside Down is currently in progress and will start releasing in March.
Remember the training I did a few months ago on adoption, attachment, and discipline? Here are 90 seconds of outtakes. Words are hard when speak them you have to.
Got a toddler? Remember having toddlers? This will crack you up.
The mask nonsense is almost over (all the praise hands!) but if you go somewhere and encounter a holdout who believes more in political science than actual science, here’s what you can do.
Did you know we still have American patriots being held (and abused and tortured) in prison because of their non-violent attendance at the January 6 rally over a year ago? You can find updates here.
Remember when Kav was refused emergency service at Alaska Regional Hospital because I wouldn’t allow them to swab him for Covid? Here’s the real reason they’re demanding those tests. And if you missed it, here’s what came of the hospital’s investigation about that incident.
Devotional videos this month: If you need to remember who you are, For those who resist change, Pay attention to their words, and If you’re about to give up on breakthrough.
Supporting small businesses is more important than ever. Here are some ways that take just a few minutes. And related: Why buy local? Here you go.