Thursday, February 13, 2014

Where do I begin? I feel like I get in bed at night and all the things that I want to blog about flood my mind... until I sit up to start blogging and I can't think of a single thing. Sure, there are tons of things that I could share and actually, really want to share, but I want to share them tactfully and eloquently and that just isn't happening right now.
My transition to Kansas City has been wild. 
It's been hard.
and overwhelming.
I have a lot to process through, and typically I would process through it here, but some of it I'm not sure I want to post online for the whole world to read. Let's just say this week has been intense. And it started with this beautiful discovery about my move here.

Let's rewind, ok?

In 2008 I began to dream about moving to KC. In August of last year, I decided that I would move to KC in June 2014. A couple months down the road, I really felt that I needed to go ahead and move in January. Which is what I did and now, here I am. 

Who moves north in the middle of winter? Who does that?! Me. This Louisiana girl who had never seen real snow. She packs up her life and moves to Missouri in the middle of a very snowy winter. What is the wisdom in that? I don't know how to drive in cold weather? After I got here, all of Louisiana shut down because they had a couple snow flakes. Insanity for sure. 
But I knew that I was supposed to move in January. So I did.

Here I am now. In KC. Surrounded by snow and negative temperatures. I bought snow boots and huge coats. I've put salt on the driveway. I've slid in ice. Here I am in winter snow.  

I got to sit at my window and watch snow fall for a couple hours the other day. I just sat and watched. Snow does something to you. Sure, it's pretty and cold. It makes your nose turn pink and your fingers go numb. But it really does something to you.
Snow ushers in a newness, a brightness and a lightness that I haven't experienced in any other element. 
Growing up in Louisiana, I experienced a lot of rain, and sure that cleanses, but it's no where near what snow does for your surroundings. 

Snow gently sings a song over creation. 

Jonathan and Melissa Helser wrote a beautiful song called "Sing Winter" 
I would encourage you to buy it if you don't have it already.

There is a line in the song that says this:

Can I fall like glory, to wash your year away
All that remains was, really meant to stay. 

This is the reason that I moved to KC in the middle of winter. Those two lines. 
My year needed a good washing. It needed a beautiful redemption. I needed a covering of grace that only snow could offer. 

Winter brings a deadness and barrenness that often times is frowned upon. Who loves a dead looking tree? But what you see in the winter is the most important part. In every other season, leaves of gold and red, flowers of white and pink are celebrated. Birds sing cheerfully as eggs hatch in tight woven nests. But in winter, you see the most beautiful, glorious part of creation. The tree. The trunk and branches that bear the weight of the fruit and creation are spread wide. The strong, steady goodness. The support. The life of the tree is exposed. Winter, snow, sings accolades to the barren but beautiful tree. After winter, all that remains was really meant to stay. 

With each season new birds and blossoms are born. But with each season they also fail. 
But the tree remains. The tree remains season in and season out. The tree is steady, stable. 

I moved to KC in the winter because I needed for everything else in my life, all the fluff to fall away. 
The birds singing in my branches were great fun, but I needed a good washing. 

I have said goodbye to two relationships since being here. Both of them were wonderful friendships. I am sure one of them will come back in the near future. But the fact is, that friendship, even though it was good, is just a bird. Birds are necessary for trees to thrive in the long run, but for this winter, they need to migrate south. 

I have had the hardest year of my life. It has been one of the most painful years. Winter is washing that away for me. I look out in my year and I still have near knee deep snow. I know that because of that snow, I will have a beautiful lawn this summer. I have seen the barrenness. I will celebrate the beauty of the barrenness. However, because I have seen the barrenness, I will more greatly appreciate the beauty of the blossom when it comes.  

The Father is a strong, steady tree. He doesn't get swayed by the winds that blow. He isn't weighed down by the snow. 
I am an oak who has endured many storms, but I still sway from time to time. I still get scared sometimes when my leaves have fallen and the wind blows. I know that the Father created me to be strong and steady, just like Him. I am learning not to fear the winter. Each season has glories of its own. 

Winter, Sing your song over me.