Many today yearn to live closer to ‘nature:’ a term, nay, a reality with many rich, diverse aspects. From primitive diets and organic farming to bare foot shoes, cold showers and breastfeeding, trends indicate a growing sense that nature, and particularly human nature, gives more direction for life than we have recognized. In this vein, living according to seasons is worth our consideration, especially in the heart of winter.

Some gifts of nature are hard to recognize. The wise encourage us to begin with docility, and even more, with gratitude. Grateful eyes always see more. Giving thanks, even before understanding, opens the door to see what is really there.

We need winter in our life. And where most of us live, the seasons are a yearly reminder and call to embrace this truth.

Winter tends to be a difficult season. But already a deeper truth is coming to the fore. Of course some seasons are harder: this is part of the gift. There are at least two aspects of the gift of winter worth our noticing: the gift of rest, which comes of slowing down, and the gift of conversion, which comes of the cold.

First, rest. In a pre-industrial society slowing down in winter came naturally. There was not only less time and opportunity to work, there was also generally less to do. People even tend to move slower in the cold. Yet today we don’t slow down and we don’t work less. How we drive in the snow seems a kind of emblem of our attitude. We want to use technology to be able to drive just as fast and far as ever regardless of the weather.

Winter calls us to slow, which calls us to rest. I love the words of Dallas Hartwig who suggests winter is a time to be “more present with fewer people who mean more to us.” That is rest in a rich sense. More present, with fewer people! Surely this means especially at home. Winter calls us home. It asks us insistently: where is the hearth around which you gather with those you love?

Second, conversion. This one is more elusive and abstract, but every bit as real. Conversion means turning toward something better, which always includes turning away from something else—something we want. It is a change of heart. If it weren’t turning away from something we want there would be no drama. There would be no dying. But there is both in real conversion.

Extreme cold kills. But this death is necessary. I think of my asparagus; it must die, otherwise no amazing spears will emerge in spring.

Winter is time for fruitful dying. Certain things in our heart need to change. Just as all around us things must die, or go dormant, in order to live, so it is with us. This is the time for self-examination and new resolutions. It is the time for Lent, and a Lenten attitude. We can begin simply by enduring, hopefully without complaining, the real travails of cold and wintry weather.

The natural world seeks not to freeze our heart but rather quite the contrary. Freezing fingers, freezing ground, and even freezing pipes offer an opportunity to remember, refocus, and redirect; toward what really matters. And to give thanks. For nature is always, always teaching, coaxing, reminding, and encouraging. Even as a loving father. ~ ~ ~

Announcing Man of the Household and Woman of the Household special sessions for Lent. INFO AND SIGNUP HERE. Do it alone; do it as a couple; do it with friends.

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John Cuddeback

Husband, father, and professor of Philosophy. LifeCraft springs from one conviction: there is an ancient wisdom about how to live the good life in our homes, with our families; and it is worth our time to hearken to it. Let’s rediscover it together. Learn more.