Wintering
By Lindsey O’Connor

Winter is time to shift gears, to ponder, rest, and nest.

It was the winter of my almost discontent. It wasn’t of Dickens proportions, but something was off. My soul was unsettled, longing for something that I couldn’t quite identify. I lived in a warm climate, but what I felt was more than wishing for snow or anticipating spring.

I was reading Laura Ingalls Wilder’s The Long Winter to my older children that year, and I was touched by the warmth of their relationships, more searing than the wood stove staving off the life-threatening cold. I told my children my own childhood memories of going to my Aunt Iva’s and Uncle Bob’s farm in “cold country.” All of us cousins trekked to the barn and huddled in the hayloft, telling stories and watching our breath in the five-degree air. We slid on the frozen pond with plastic bags on our feet in lieu of ice skates. We square danced with Grandma in front of the fire, amazed that she knew how. For a little while that winter, I was Laura Ingalls Wilder, I told them.

Was this what brought on my seasonal stirring? I had central heat and an attached garage, with an indoor suburban life in a moderate climate. Winter now felt the same and was just as busy as any other season.

And that was the problem. I longed for wintering. God infused his natural world with a need to slow down and change pace with the seasons. Shorter days and colder temperatures prompt some animals to hibernate and plants to go dormant in this seasonal rhythm of down time, rest, rejuvenation, and change.

Yet applying the lesson to ourselves is challenging. Technology makes it possible to keep the same pace year round, without weather cues to drive indoors. In the last century, urban and suburban living edged out the agrarian society, whose tie to the land gave them a stronger connection with the rhythm of life— planting in the spring, putting up hay in the summer, harvesting in the autumn. Winter was time to shift gears, to ponder, rest, and nest without the pressure of crops.

Isn’t the desire for wintering more than stoking the fireplace and sipping cocoa? Could there be a part of us that longs, externally and internally, for this same slower rhythm that God built into his natural world?

Here are a few ideas for warming our souls and nourishing our children by wintering.

Downshift. Take cues from the seasonal sunlight shift and slow down earlier. Set a time in the evening to wrap up the work and focus on eating together, talking, and winding down; otherwise chores feel endless. Edge the children’s bedtime up a bit as darkness comes earlier. Story time and snuggles can linger, and you can reach “glory hour” sooner, when the children are asleep and you have a few moments with your husband or for yourself before bed.

Nest. Before the American black bear goes to sleep for 100 straight days (imagine that much sleep!), it rakes nesting materials into its den for warmth. We can make changes to our “den,” too. Add touches of warmth to your home with a winter throw on the back of the sofa, pillows with a winter theme, or quilts. Winter is also the perfect time to bake, simmer, and stew favorite winter recipes. Write letters, scrapbook, organize, or do indoor projects. It’s all nesting.

Read. I’ve never understood the “summer reading” paradox. For mothers of preschoolers, “pooltime” means splashing and inflatable floating toys, not lounging in the sun with a book. Winter is a different matter. Longer cold nights seem to invite snuggling in with a good read.

Gather. Connect with loved ones, invite a family over for chili, play games your preschoolers love. Make winter memories your children will cherish.

Reflect. A hibernating bear’s heartbeat can slow to just eight beats a minute; our wintering can include a slowing in the heart as well.

Cocooning at home invites reflection, time to think and plan, a calm spirit, purposed stillness before God. Study something you want to learn. Journal.

In a fast paced culture, a slower rhythm for a season is as rejuvenating as a long winter’s nap. I no longer feel a discontented longing in winter. I’ve learned that wintering, no matter the weather or place, is a pace of the heart.

_{*From MomSense magazine, January/February 2004}