On Ushering One Another Out of the Cold

Five good things for January

Background painting—The Snowstorm (Winter) by Francisco Goya

Hi friends, 

It is cold and windy here, and when I open the front door to let the children out, they press their tiny mittened hands to their cheeks and shriek like birds all the way to the minivan. 

Sometimes the world feels like that.

So cold, you feel your whole body brace against the fury and the force of it. So cold, you pull your hat a little lower, gritting your teeth, setting your jaw.

Perhaps now is one of those times. A little frigid, a little bitter, a little biting.

Maybe more days than not, you’re pulling on another layer, rubbing your hands briskly over the arms of someone you love, putting on another pot of coffee, doing what you can to keep moving.  

Because here’s the thing about weather: we cannot change it. Neither can we escape it. We do not hibernate or migrate like other animals do—instead, we must adapt. 

What does that mean for me and my family?

It means we will still go outside and into the world, despite the extra effort it requires. 

It means we will put on many, many layers to keep the cold out the best we can. 

It means we will set our expectations accordingly, which often means lowering them, then lowering them, again.  

Mostly, it means we will make home a cozy, warm space to return to from the elements. There will be candles. There will be tea. There will be a fireplace, a lavender-scented heater pack, a pile of chunky blankets, a bath filled to the brim with bubbles, and all the warmth we can muster.

There are many ways to move through a frigid winter, but I want to do it like this: 

Patient. Grounded. Layered. Sincere. 

Protected and vulnerable. 

Hopeful and honest. 

More than anything else, I want to remember this: 

How we each exhale in relief as we step over the threshold—at last—into the warm house. How, after kicking off their boots, my children will press their tiny, pink fingers against my warm cheeks. How they will share the space in front of the ancient heat register in the front room, listening to me fill up the teapot and saying what I always say: 

Yes, darlings, it’s freezing out there. I know. We’re home now. It won’t be long before you warm up. 

Today, I say it to you, also: 

It’s freezing out there. I know.

May we continue tending spaces where our people can come in and get warm. And if you don’t have such a space, may this one be something like that for you.

Five Good Things:

1. Coffee + Crumbs
   recently came out with a new podcast series called Making a Mother, and it’s full of beautiful, raw, and nuanced stories of motherhood. I also enjoyed this conversation between Kate Bowler and Sam Wells on how to be with others in their pain without “tidying it up”.

2. Emily P. Freeman’s book, How to Walk Into a Room is full of rich wisdom, compassion, and space while we make some of our most difficult decisions. Also,

   Lore Wilbert
   introduced me to the book, The Critical Journey, which has been a refreshing companion for me in a liminal season of my faith journey.

3. Making a new fleece tie blanket for myself just for fun, like I’m ten years old, again. 10/10 recommend a low-stakes creative project like this as a way to treat yourself with extra tenderness, right now.

4. I scroll on by almost every listicle or advice column the algorithm feeds me—especially when they have to do with marriage. But this article on developing embodied tolerance was one that caught my attention right away. It’s a really refreshing and helpful framework for navigating triggers, expectations, and needs.

5. Things saving my life right now: Mall walks with friends. Long baths with an audiobook. Barre classes. Listening—calming our bodies, opening our hearts—to each other after the kids are in bed. Re-watching comedy specials when I can’t stomach anything else. Abbott Elementary. Chili. Coconut Curry Ramen. Warm socks.

Peace to you, friends,

Krista