the winter feeling
Seth got his yellow fever shot yesterday, so now he fidgets next to me, obviously uncomfortable – a bit of unrest here as we work for a coming time. Who will Ethiopia be to him, I wonder. What will home be to me while he’s gone?
Last night it finally felt like winter, and as I drove after a good little cry and prayers with friends, I felt myself relieved that rain began to cross over into wintry mix. I’ve been waiting for you, winter, my sad siren. I have expectations for you: snow, window light, fallen branches. Winter only means that Spring comes soon and that words will have more power.
in the name of Jesus, I’ll call it what it is – call it up from the deep
poetry will sting like a cut of glass, skim bare surface, and I’ll jerk back – not take more than that
letters of encouragement, short stories unto themselves, will float me like a lazy summer raft
covenant words, the canon, the cloud of witnesses, will pull me along, hold me down where I need anchored – I’ll go back to my Ebenezer
Right now everything rushes, some moments like a race to nowhere, always the guilty late feeling. But today is winter, so I lay the running down, just a minute, and I hope to stand at the window with my boys. See the fog, put my hand on the uncomfortable, ask him how he’s doing.
I haven’t unpacked my boxes from our move. Storage units are still full. There’s a simple and broken feeling that I don’t want to lose, the winter feeling.
Just now, the boys woke and ran into the room, “It snowed! It snowed!” – new air, deeper settling, more books.