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.

photo credit
About me


Communion with Depression
February 17, 2017
Wild in the Hollow Book Club: an Introductory video
August 28, 2015
How Right Living Was My Brokenness: a guest post from Kelly Smith
August 11, 2015
Marriage Letters: On Home
July 06, 2015
A Final Haines Home Companion: a Secret I’ve Kept
June 06, 2014
You Have Not Come to Darkness
April 30, 2014
On Broken Parts in Regular Towns: Alabama, Arkansas, and Haiti
April 03, 2014
On Losing Place
September 05, 2013
How the Light Peeks Through
August 26, 2013


Reply January 12, 2012

Ah, yes. I need winter, too. It's been notably absent this season. More rain than snow. Temps feel more like Fall or early Spring, not what It's Supposed to Be.

I like the huddling down at home, the comfort food and the way those foods make the house smell, the squeals of laughter that happen only in snow-play, and the warming up after the girls come in the house. I miss the coziness that Winter brings and hope we can enjoy it just a bit before the trees begin to bud.

Seth and you will be in my thoughts & prayers.

    Reply January 12, 2012

    Oh Aimee, I agree and thank you.

Emily @ The Pilot's Wife
Reply January 12, 2012

Miles was beside himself too. Asked if he could build a snowman. Oh, baby. Not quite.

Did Seth tell you? We'll be temporary widows at the same time. Let's get together, shall we?

Reply January 12, 2012

the poetry stinging....i've read poetry and gawked at art and soaked in dance and gasped of late. wanting to keep it. make it stay while i wait for spring. because spring's fleeting is slow. but this winter beauty so fast. i want to hold it.

Reply January 12, 2012

It feels like a dead horse I'm beating here . . . but I's just loooooove your language. That is all.

Well, maybe that isn't ALL. It's just all I'm sayin' right now.


diana trautwein
Reply January 13, 2012

Wistful, sweetly sentimental (in the best sense of that overused word), thoughtful, real. Thank you. I'm glad that the coming of winter feels good to you - it would be tough to be a 'widow' just now if it didn't. Praying for open hearts for each of you, for good sharing when you re-unite, for peace and protection for all of you.

laura parker
Reply January 13, 2012

amber, loved reading this today. remembering my days in the mtns of colorado and the glorious excuse to stay home and in pajamas with the kids and watch an extra movie for no real reason at all. loved remembering that today.

so strange here, with no winter at all. just a season where it maybe gets cool enough to wear jeans at night and not sweat tooo much. i miss the changing of the seasons a lot. somehow it feels righter to see the change all around you, ya know? there is a deep goodness in what the changing seasons signify, somehow . . . .

beautiful and uplifting and true, as always.

can't wait to hear of seth's trip to ethiopia . . .

Reply January 13, 2012

thank you!

Teri @ StumblingAroundInTheLight
Reply January 13, 2012

oh so much winter....
up here in the high mountains of Colorado, we've not seen a raindrop since October. Every square inch of ground is blanketed in thick, crunchy, here-for-the-long-haul snow. Sunshine sparkles across the field, little diamonds scattered amongst the Aspens.

Everything slows; twice as long out the door, twice as long down the mountain, slow, careful, thoughtful. Candles burn longer, logs crackle constantly.

Winter beauty at its best!

Reply January 14, 2012

no words. as per usual.

Shelly Miller
Reply January 15, 2012

Winter of the soul, that barren time where God does deep work in preparation for the hope of Spring that follows behind. You described it beautifully in this story.

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