Embracing Winter
By Chelsey Dankert
I heard once that “there is no bad weather, just bad clothing choices.” and it made me stop and think. I decided then that I still do not like winter.
Growing up, so much life and adventures happened in the summertime. We went camping, baked on the pool deck during swim meets, followed my brothers’ baseball tournaments.
Growing up, the winter meant two things to me: my hair freezing after swim practice and the unbearable practice of clothing roulette for the 20 minutes mom made us go outside - do I need two shirts and a coat? Or 1 shirt, one sweatshirt, and one coat? How many layers can I wear and still be able to bend down to put my boots on?
Oh, also the fact that I am 5’5” and before skinny jeans became a thing (and I finally started wearing them way late to the fashion party), my pants were constantly nasty at the bottom from dragging in the slush.
So, yeah. My childhood in Michigan did not do great things to foster a love for the longest season we have.
Despite my disdain for this season, I spent three years in northern Iowa and married into a family that is active year-round. I am happy to say that winter is still my least favorite season; I still loathe the constant effort required to do things that are much more enjoyable in 80-degree weather and sunshine.
However, keeping children inside for six months of the year (or even six hours a day) proves to be difficult and rather obnoxious. Somehow, my four kids have developed a love for winter activities, so I put on my best attitude—and still play clothing roulette—to experience more of what they enjoy.
As a redeemed perfectionist, the start of the new year—and all the pressure that comes with it—added to my dread of failing and being physically uncomfortable. It was really just icing (ha, pun intended) on this frozen cake of angst.
As much as my introverted heart wants to, I cannot bury myself in cozy blankets and books until the earth thaws and the sun shines once again.
But instead of letting that angst freeze me in place or forcing myself into the mold of a 'New Year’s Resolution,' I’m choosing a different thaw. Rather than making resolutions, I am leaning into the rhythm of the season to sustain the progress I've already made. This looks less like a 'new leaf' and more like a steady commitment: maintaining the boundaries that keep me whole and intentionally stretching myself to find peace in the tensions.
For me, this winter brings the opportunity to lean into postures of the heart more fully, to embrace the beauty of slow seasons, and to rest in the promises of the coming spring.