Every winter I hit that spot when it feels like winter will never leave. Here in Kansas we don’t even have the beauty of glistening snow to brighten our days; except for rare snowfalls, the days are an endless succession of shades of brown.
The trees are brown, the grass is brown, the street is brown. Brown chickens peck in my brown yard, and gray-brown cats slink around looking for a gray-brown mouse to feast on. The sky is not always brown–it often chooses bright blue to wear. But somehow the blue does not justify the interminable parade of brown.
My spirit feels as brown as my surroundings, and I struggle to find bright bits of joy. They are there if I look–the red rose Will brought me for Valentines, the laughter of my son when I tell him a funny story, and the snuggles with my foster child and her pink blanket.
But then I read the news or Facebook and everything quickly becomes brown again. Abusers getting off scott-free and the church defending them. Family members weeping as their loved ones die or go missing. People arguing about theology or dogs or the government. It all feels so grim.
I know that spring will come; I believe it. New life will push up green from the brown, brown, brown. But until then, I have to live in winter. I have to make peace with winter because it has something to teach me. I have to find beauty in the brown.
How do you do it?