I get the winter blues. I mean, makes me want to write bad, angsty poetry about bleak and bitter cold, kind of blues. I think I probably always have. However, in a younger, more free life I just dealt with the situation by buying more books and spending most of my time in bed reading.
I can't do that anymore.
But more, now then ever, I need to be on my game during the winter. Well, actually all the time, but my point is, I can't just quit for two months and resume when the thermometer hits sixty.
So I bought a therapy light that I sit in front of in the wee morning hours while I do my quiet time. And I committed to getting myself outside even if its cold at least once a day. But, honestly, I'm failing at that one.
I seriously hate being cold.
I also committed myself to my daily doxology. To praise Him all day long.
But the difference maker in my winter freeze? Hope. I have been taking a few names off the IF:Amarillo registration page each day and praying wild crazy prayers for revival, for harvest, for hope. And looking at a name and praying hope over someone else? Gives me hope.
I start feeling things stirring and moving inside of me and I know that even when the ground is frozen solid and my mind is numb from the felt oppression, God is moving. In me. In the ground. In this place.
And when I can remember that? The poetry I want to write drastically changes.
We wait for Yahweh; He is our help and shield. For our hearts rejoice in Him because we trust in His holy name. May Your faithful love rest on us, Yahweh, for we put our hope in You. Psalm 33:20-22