Wrestling with Winter

Some days I feel split in two, completely pulled in all the directions at once. I am always carrying something: a deadline, a baby, a lesson plan, a meal to cook, a calling I can’t quite name, obligations of work and home continuously. A blessing. But also, a hardship in ways I never expected. I do everything halfway, it seems, and nothing as well as I hoped.

I think of Jacob in the dark, wrestling all night with God and feel it in my bones this is how I am shouting (or strangling God) in this season. And not because he was faithless, but because Jacob was desperate for blessing. I feel that same ache rise in me. “Bless this life already, Lord!! Here I am! Bless this work!” This story was brought up in the last mom book I read and I’d never thought it applied to me. But oh, it does. Daily wrestling’s. Minute by minute wrestling’s.

I feel like I’m throwing a ton of exclamation points at life lately!!!

I am tired of juggling and tired of doubting, yet unwilling to let go. If there is a blessing here, it will not come simply. But I will not release God until He meets me in this torn place and calls it holy.

I keep fighting for peace in my days. And so as we’ve headed into a new year with new goals or freshness that the world says we should achieve or have during this season, I’m here to be the contrary, and trying to find acceptance in that. It’s a time of wintering, and hard wintering at that in my heart. Sometimes that means letting go, watching the leaves fully fall, my limbs truly feel laid bare. I’m in the season where it’s harder than I want it to be. I’m holding on to all the things and as blessings they may be, they may be too much. So I hold on fighting for peace, when in reality I need to be letting go so spring can come.

And sometimes the holiest work is not striving but loosening my grip, allowing myself to be wintered. Be stripped of productivity and answers, resting in the trust that nothing essential is being lost. Winter is not punishment, its preparation. Beneath the cold and stillness, God is doing a hidden work I cannot hurry. Blessing does not always arrive with clarity or relief, but with presence, with the quiet assurance that when the time is right, He will name the season fruitful again.

So, here I sit. As white-knuckled as I may be, trying to wrestle with God to bless me. And maybe prepare my heart and home for some loss at winter, but be at peace spring and a time of harvest will come again.