It has rained for days now. A cold, relentless rain. I look toward our cactus still propped on our outdoor table, now hunched over like an old man, withering. Cold has a way of making us all feel old. From the other side of the pane, we warm ourselves with cups of hot cocoa and coffee amidst artificial light and flames, and for this I am thankful. Warmth is also a gift.
Mark and I had planned this past weekend differently. Kristen and Tim and their kids were out of town, and we had intended to enjoy family time outside working in the yard and riding bikes–except for the cold rain. Our plans were revised. In lieu of bike rides, Mark wrestled with the kids and played hide-and-seek. We watched movies and played board games and even leisurely visited with friends who stopped over. There were no warm shadows cast across the countertops as we prepared our soup dinners or even to greet us as we poured our morning coffees. The shorter, grey daylight reminded us to rest and enjoy the quietness with one another. Winter, the season for rest, is coming. It is the portion of our year that forces simpler routines and togetherness. Admittedly worn thin with our current pace, I welcome it.