Dear Chelsea, You Have One More Day.

It's October, and it's almost here again.  I know I shouldn't mark the date because it's of no use to me.

But I do.  I remember.  And I remember it so well, as if it were two days ago, rather than two years ago.

It's in the way the sun sets at a disagreeable hour.

It's in the smell of pumpkin spice in a nearby coffee cup.

It's in the warm days and the cool nights, in the incomprehensibly perfect light that is cast in the mid morning on the cornfields--a light that God clearly mastered and set aside for just two perfect weeks of October.

It's in the crimson leaves that crunch beneath my sneakers.

It's in the sweaters I retrieve from their summer hibernation.

It's just...there.  Everywhere.  I fail at trying to miss it.

And the memories flood at the most inappropriate times...

When my mother wishes to show me how she's redone my old bedroom, and all I can picture is my suitcase undone in the corner.

When I'm driving down Briley Parkway, and my only thoughts are of that early morning drive to the airport so I could be with my sister.

When I look for something to make for dinner, and I stare at the chicken crepe recipe--the recipe that sat fresh in my stomach while he told me he was done with me.

Today, I pause and ruminate those memories.

I had one more day, I think.  One more day before it would all fall apart.

I close my eyes, sobered by the present knowledge of what was standing on the doorstep to my life.

And I wonder to myself--why does my soul wander back to those days, those hours that I had leading up to it?  They're horrible images and feelings...

Nothing a person should willingly recollect, if for nothing more than self preservation.

Perhaps it's because, like the bazillions of times I've watched Leonardo DiCaprio's version of Romeo and Juliet, I think that my ability to know how the story will end can somehow impact the turn of events.  That things might be less catastrophic, less painful. 

And today, I had a thought--if I could go back in time two years ago and say anything to myself, what would I say?

So, with pen to paper, here is a letter I wrote to the me that was.

****

Dear Chelsea,

It's October 22, 2013, and you have one more day before your whole life will change.

Thursday, you'll have a perfect fall day.  It'll be sunny and cool, so make sure Harlow wears her little cardigan with the grey and white stripes.  You'll play and watch Sofia with her.  You'll go with her to visit your parents.  Your mom will give Harlow her first bite of banana pudding, and she'll love it!  Your dad will get out his guitar and sing songs while Harlow bounces to the beat.

You'll drive home and clean, snuggle a little bit with your toddler.  Feed her a little macaroni for dinner and let her watch Tinkerbell before you put her down.

Savor it.  Embrace the simplicity.

Because Thursday night will be hard.  You'll get a phone call you would have never thought you would have gotten.  He'll say he wants a divorce, and it will crush you.  You won't sleep all night, but you'll live to see Friday.  I promise.  Oh, and there's a prescription for Ambien waiting across the street for you when the Kroger pharmacy opens.  Go fill it first thing in the morning.

The next month will be a whirlwind.  You'll make an unexpected trip with Harlow to Dallas to see Steph and the kids (Rub Steph's pregnant belly!  By the way, it's another girl!).  You'll come home with the best intentions for reconciliation, but he will move out within an hour of you getting home.  You'll spend a month living in the house with Harlow by yourself.

Your stomach will hurt a lot.  You won't feel like eating, but I promise, you will want to eat again.  Food will taste good again.  You won't sleep much for the next two or three months, but hang in there.  You will sleep again, and it will be a sound sleep.

I know this will be hard to hear, but you'll have to move out of your house to live with your parents in early December.  I know.  I know it's home right now.  But it's for the best, trust me.  You'll find a good home for Coda and Zoey right before Christmas, but you will miss them very much.

You'll feel like you're wasting away.  Like your soul is dying bit by bit.  But hang tough!  You will find you have so much more endurance than you thought you ever had.  You're going to live your worst nightmare and walk out alive.  Even better than you were before.

You'll never find that you're so alive as you are when you start digging into your relationship with the Lord.  Say goodbye to The Bachelor and Facebook--you're going to be doing a lot of reading the next seven months.  You'll grow in wisdom as you draw near to Jesus.  You'll learn to love when you thought it was impossible. 

You'll journal and blog, and because of your courage to share about the journey you're on, you'll touch many lives who are going through similar situations.

You'll give it the best fight you could possibly give it, and then God will give you a clear moment when it's time for you to lay it all down to Him and move on.

And then, this is where it gets really good.

You'll meet Brooks.  He'll teach you to laugh again, to smile, to be carefree.  You'll learn that a man can love you with a post-baby body and a post-divorce heart.  And yes, I know what you're thinking--and no, you won't ever feel like checking his phone to see if he's cheating.  You'll be able to trust again.

He'll ask for your hand in marriage, and you won't be afraid to say yes.  "Husband" won't be a dirty word to you anymore.  He'll love your daughter as if she were his, and she'll love him as if he were her dad.

Your loss will be restored.

And thousands--yes, THOUSANDS!--will flock to read about your song of redemption.

You'll be so amazed--at God, at yourself.

And although this next patch is going to be the hardest time of your life, it's going to get so good.

Hang in there.  The Lord is with you--on the bathroom floor, in a lonely car in a Target parking lot, when you're served with divorce papers two days after Christmas.

When you're in the deepest part of the pit.  When you're on the highest peak of the mountain.  He will not leave you.

He hasn't forgotten you, Chelsea.  He has your beautiful future tucked away behind filthy wrapping, and it's worth every bit of the pain for every bit of the joy that will come.

Oh, and look for pink roses, and save every one you get.  You'll understand later.

Love,

Me

******

Is there a time from your past that, knowing what you know now, you wish you could go back and change?  Or at least give yourself some preparation, some warning, some context?

I've certainly wished I could go back and change some of my decisions--moments where I wish I had never been married that first time, where I wish I would have agreed to the divorce much sooner, spoken differently, acted differently.

If you're stuck in a place of misery, perhaps it helps to think ahead.  To take heart.  My perspective was often that things were never going to get better--that my life was over and would never again contain happiness.

But really, don't we know from having lived as much as we have that a pit doesn't last forever?  There is a mountaintop at the end of the valley.

Have courage!  Have faith!  Your world doesn't end here.  And consider what encouragement you could be giving yourself two years from now.

I have come to understand that maybe remembering where I was isn't such a curse after all.

It forces me to relive the timeline, where God never let me down and redeemed the ruins of a life lost.

And so, on a chilly October day of the future, I smile at the me of the past.

Because I know how the story will go--and why would I want to change it?  It couldn't have been written more perfectly.

She has no idea what lies ahead of her.  She has one more day left before her life changes.

And she has no idea how wonderful that life is going to get.

Things I Learned on My Honeymoon (With Special Guest Brooksie)

Helloooo from the other side of the altar, arrows!

Whew! This last month has been a whirlwind!

On April 18th, Brooksie (get used to the cutesiness...it's what Harlow and everyone else likes to call him) and I tied the knot in a beautiful ceremony at Hidden Trace Farm. 

It really was perfect. We had rain every single day leading up to it, and even though we were promised a 90% chance of rain on Saturday, it was 81, sunny, and absolutely gorgeous.

We cooled our heels for about ten days after the wedding, laying low with Harlow in our new home before these two newlyweds busted out for a ten-day rendezvous to....

...Orlando, Florida!

We were super fortunate to get a free week in his parents' vacation home while we laid by the pool, bopped around the Disney parks, and made some, uh, interesting memories!

But in order to tell you about it in Brooksie/Chelsea fashion, we thought we'd (a) utilize his popular "things I've learned" list format and (b) do it together. 

So without further ado...

THINGS I LEARNED ON MY HONEYMOON:

1.  "I have my doubts about the caliber of marketing programs in Florida when I pass a billboard on I-75 that reads, 'STRIPPERS: AS SEEN ON JERRY SPRINGER!'" -Brooksie

If you've ever driven any interstate in the Deep South, you know we aren't kidding about this one. One way we passed the time on our 10-hour-plus drive was to find the most ridiculous billboards. 

Our favorites included:

"Couples welcome! Great food!" (For a strip club)

and

"Uncontested divorces? Only $199!"

Stay classy, Florida. 

2. "On a hot day at Epcot, no matter how different the food and cultures may be 'around the world,' body odor is a universal language." - Brooksie

I think his exact words were, "It's only 10 o'clock in the morning, people.  Come on!"

3. "Be careful trying to help an elderly couple who speak a different language than you do at an amusement park -- you might be putting them in line for a roller coaster when they were actually looking for 'tres shipes de agua'--otherwise known as the three ferry boats back to the parking lot." - Brooksie 

In our defense, we told them we no habla Portugese.  But really, I hope they enjoyed the 70 minute wait for the Seven Dwarves Mine Train, along with the woman who weaved back and forth through the line because she couldn't find her kids Emily, Elizabeth, and Ethan. 

I knew taking Latin in high school would get me places in life.

4. "If you make out on the Finding Nemo ride when you think nobody is looking, an animated fish might yell, 'STOP FOOLIN' AROUND!!' at a hilariously appropriate time." - Brooksie

I only have three things to say about that:

(1) It was pitch black. 

(2) The other clamshells were turned away from us. 

(3) Marlin needs to mind his business. 

5. "After taking your wife on her first upside-down roller coaster, it's not acceptable to laugh until you've determined whether it's laughter or crying underneath all the hyperventilating." - Brooksie

Okay, this was what I was most proud of on our whole trip! At 28 years old, I FINALLY got up the nerve to go on an upside down roller coaster for the first time! I've been prodded to go for oh, you know, only my entire life by everyone who's ever gone to a theme park with me, but I decided that the Rock 'n' Roller Coaster Starring Aerosmith wasn't going to best me. 

The theme was so much fun--you're being sent with backstage passes to an Aerosmith concert in a "super stretch" limo in a back alley. 

I muttered my prayers and only nearly wet my pants probably eight or nine times while Steven Tyler screamed a countdown to the shotgun start--where you go zero to sixty in 2.8 seconds and, you know, immediately go upside down. 

My question once we stopped was why were my teeth so dry (from all the screaming, obviously) and why wouldn't my legs move. 

But I did survive, and I even asked to go a second time...

... and loooooooved it. 

Upside down FTW. 

6.  "Walt Disney World is the happiest place on earth...until about 10 pm. All chivalry goes out the door after 12 hours in the parks." - Brooksie

I 100% support my husband's decision to take one of the seats on the park buses after a group of inconsiderate high school cheerleaders cut in line to take our spot on the bus we waited a half hour for and walked a mile and a half to get to.   Especially when the person who's left to stand up on said bus is using the bus handles as an opportunity to perfect her pole dancing. I don't think she minded. 

7.  "When you're sitting in a circle on a raft ride, do whatever you have to do to make sure you aren't sitting directly across from the old British man sitting Indian style in a Speedo." - Brooksie

This particularly unfortunate Speedo stood in front of us in line for twenty minutes and was smaller than my bikini bottoms. And didn't quite clear his backside hilltops, if you know what I'm saying. 

FYI, the Disney water park Blizzard Beach is a perfect opportunity to play "spot the thong."

8.  "No matter how many rumors you hear that Disney parks run out of Elsa dresses early in the day, I can assure you that they will always, always have plenty of pieces of $100 sparkly blue fabric to sell you." - Brooksie

We only had to sell one of Brooksie's kidneys to include the crown and wand. Geez, Disney. 

9.  "It's a good thing I said 'I do' BEFORE I saw my wife's frustrations on a goofy golf course! If she has that much trouble dealing with a rotating Mickey Mouse, I can only imagine how much I'll annoy her!" - Brooksie

He's kidding...sort of. 

In my defense, I don't even know how the Fantasia course could ever be considered something for small children, other than the fun landscape. 

Let's just say I finished astoundingly above par. 

9.  "There is absolutely no hill in Florida steep enough to require hand brakes on a tandem bicycle. Unless your cautious and theatrical wife is your passenger. And you'd like to be able to sleep with both eyes closed." - Brooksie

LIES. 

We found the cutest little tandem bike to ride around the Disney Boardwalk late one night, and after they told us specifically to USE YOUR HAND BRAKE and GO SLOWLY down the two hills in the circle (complete with map of where to use said hand brakes), my husband decides to ignore all rules and treat the sidewalk like a NASCAR speedway, where we almost ran over ten people, and I almost flew out the side of the bike into the bushes while screaming repeatedly, "HAAANDDBRAAAAAAKE!!!!"

This instance is why we are now accepting the names of good marriage counselors.

10. "If you want to hear your wife say, 'WOW!' and 'OH MY GOSH!' and 'WOOHOO' for 90 minutes...you should probably take her to see Cirque du Soleil's La Nouba." - Brooksie

I've seen CDS two other times, but I'd never seen the one they have in Orlando, and it was a-mazing.

If you've never had the pleasure of seeing a CDS show, I highly recommend finding one to go see. It's full of beautiful music, incredible sets, and acrobats who clearly spent their childhood years putting their parents into cardiac arrest with all of their daredevil-ness. 

Our favorites were four young girls who spun tops in the air in sync while doing flips and standing on each other's heads and what not. 

Incredible!

11. "Regardless of what our behinds may say, we are much happier when we can bike everywhere." - Brooksie

I probably hadn't ridden a bike in 20 years when Brooksie introduced me to the cruisers in their garage. 

After the first night of falling and pedaling crookedly through the neighborhood, I couldn't get enough of our bike rides. We'd take them to the pool and for morning, afternoon, and midnight trips around the country club's beautiful streets and golf course, all while belting out George Ezra's hit "Budapest."

And yes, even in spite of the sore bottom, I was sad to leave them behind.

12. "Of all the things we did for the first time on our honeymoon, if smoking a cigar is the only thing my beautiful bride doesn't want to try again, I'm a lucky man!" - Brooksie

(Sorry, Mom and Dad). 

Yeah, post-cigar vomit and Dorito breath is not my cup of tea. 

13.  "We are still undecided as to whether it's a good thing or a bad thing that Harlow didn't miss us while having all four grandparents spoiling her while we were away!" - Brooksie

We missed her TONS while we were away, but we rested easy at night after getting daily update pictures such as these, while she stayed at our house with Jamjams (Brooks's mom):

And Pep (Brooks's dad) even surprised the two of them when he snuck into town on a flight over the weekend!

The only drawback is that now she expects a new toy every time we have to run to Target for groceries. (I appreciate that, guys.)

14. "As I sat on a sandy beach holding my wife's hand, I reflected on the journey that brought me to this point and came to the realization that nice guys don't finish last, they just cross a different and much more rewarding finish line." - Brooksie 

What can I say? I am ridiculously blessed. Dating while having a toddler 90% of the time is by no means easy, but he never shied away from it or thought twice about embracing us as part of his life. Selfishly, I'm thankful for every failed first date and heartbreak he had to endure because it refined him into exactly what I needed him to be. I have the utmost respect for this man who voluntarily picked up where we were voluntarily left off and breathed a breath of liveliness into our lives. It is not lost on me just how lucky I am.

It was super important to have that week and half so that we could have a brief slice of what most couples get to experience in their dating and newlywed phases. And boy, was it ever worth every bit of the wait!  I fell even more in love with him!

15. "Chelsea really became an official Parker when a look of depression took over her face as we backed out of the driveway in Florida to head home – a time honored tradition of pouting in our family!" - Brooksie

It's true! I had long heard about his idyllic summer vacations to the Ventura home, so it was wonderful to be able to experience it all for myself--yes, pouting included. A mile down the road, I was already mourning the loss of the warm breeze, palm trees, and don't-care vibe. Our return to the sunny town can't come soon enough!

17.  "It's easy to return home from your vacation when your new reality is a dream come true!"

There so much from our trip that we haven't even touched on--riding the new Orlando Eye, our trip to the comedy club, all of the amazing rides and people watching at the parks, the Pirate's Cove mini golf course where I got two holes in one (take that, Disney goofy golf). But the best part...

...is that the BEST part of the honeymoon is the only thing I got to bring home with me. 

Here's to new love, new life, and new happily ever afters!

OH.

And one last thing we've learned: 

18. "As a newlywed, if you're tired of people asking you 'how's it feel?', it's much more enjoyable if you respond 'that's a little personal, don't you think?' and watch them blush." - Brooksie

Wink wink!

Xoxoxox,

Chels and Brooksie

When Bad Is Good

"I'm celebrating my birthday tomorrow!" I said excitedly to the cashier, while she finalized my order on Tuesday.

She smiled, stuffing my purchase into a bag, exclaiming, "Really? I celebrate mine this week, too! It's on Friday."

"Oh, great! Hey, that's Good Friday!" I remarked.

The corners of her mouth pulled to one side.

"Yeah. But I guess it's only 'good' depending on how you look at it," she said, her voice observing the gravity of the day.

I smiled and wished her a happy birthday, collected my purchase, and walked out, giving ample thought to her phrasing.

Was she right?

This day of Holy Week is, after all, the day that Jesus suffered and died.

What is so good about it?

~~

I wanted the miracle.

Isn't that what everybody wants?

And not just because I wanted my circumstances to improve--I wanted to see God Himself intervene in a mighty way, in a way that everyone would know:

Surely, God is real.

I was chasing after God and His promises, begging Him to have mercy on me, that He might lighten my load and allow joy to reenter my heart.  I wanted nothing more than to feel God, see God, experience His majesty and power.

I was dedicated in prayer but often felt like everything I said bounced against my ceiling and shot right back like a boomerang into my lap.

The harder I prayed, the harder things got, which made it harder to pray.

When nothing budged or changed, the only solution I could fathom was that if God was real (and I certainly believed He was) and if He was really going to restore and redeem my situation (something I was altogether less sure of), then He would have to deliver a miracle.

Plain and simple.

It's not typical that any of us pray for anything else.

Someone is sick?
Please pray that Mr. Johnson's sickness goes away completely and that he is healed.

Someone can't get pregnant?
Please pray that Susie gives birth to a healthy baby.

Someone is dying?
Please pray that the doctors can think of something to do!

So when I stared down the tunnel of divorce--something that scared me to death and hurt me--naturally, I couldn't consider praying for anything less than a miracle:

Please, Lord, put my marriage back together.

It was an honest prayer from a heart that wanted to do what she thought was right.  I didn't want to do the wrong thing or screw up Harlow's life.  I didn't want the label or the stigma.

I didn't want any of it.

But let's be honest--the miracles, they don't just happen to anyone.  Husbands don't just come back changed.  Babies diagnosed with fatal diseases almost always die.  Terminal illnesses take their patients.

Usually, when the odds are against you, even if you are a believer, your situation is sunk.

At that point in time, if my first marriage had been a human, it would have been flatlining and being embalmed.  I clung to it for seven months, but it didn't even have a pulse.

And we know that when there's no pulse, you have to call it:

Time of death: October 26, 2013 at 5:30 pm.

I had hoped that my prayers and my hopes would breathe fresh breath into a rotting corpse.

"Do I let it drown?" I wrote in my journal.  "Or do I wait patiently, hoping You will roll the stone away?"

While I believed in God and His Word, I struggled with how I should pray.

Was I supposed to pray for a miracle?

One night, while I was skimming through articles online about how to pray during hard times, I came across a mother's blog, where she had written about her experience with losing an infant.

She had known her baby would die from a prenatal diagnosis, so she prayed for the only miracle she could think of--that God would heal her baby and her baby would live.

But as the hours grew short, she said that she realized her miracle wasn't going to happen.

So she stopped asking for healing and began asking that she might make the most out of the last moments she had with that baby.

That was a miracle God delivered before the baby peacefully went.

I sat crying over her story, moved by her account but deathly afraid of the notion that it was possible that God wasn't going to come through like I thought He would.

This might really happen.

After all I had tried to do.  After all the prayers and sleepless nights.

I was supposed to believe that my "miracle" would turn out to be a divorce?

I hated the idea because it made God seem so little.  It wasn't the first time that I began to question whether or not He was really in charge if He'd really let the divorce happen.

My terms, God, or it isn't really an answered prayer.  And it's certainly not a miracle.

But the days and months continued without a sign of life in my situation, and as the time drew near, I realized, my miracle wasn't going to happen.

Everything I had known silently slipped away without a struggle or a gasp, and just like that, it was gone.

Was it good?  Hardly.

I had never hurt so much in my life.  I had never been so afraid or treated so unfairly.

And if you had asked me while I had sat in the ruins of a life lost if God had delivered a miracle, my answer would have ached in the negative.

I felt like all that was good and right in the world had lost just from looking at my circumstances.  Where was the justice?  The reasoning?  The purpose?

The truth was:

God

Wasn't

Done.

~~

This week, I've been extremely reflective on the last days of Jesus.  My penchant is to sit with him in the Garden of Gethsemane--on the cusp of betrayal, physical pain, and death.  He knows what's coming, and he is afraid.

And I take great comfort that even God in the flesh prayed for the miracle when his world crumbled around him.

"Lord, please take this cup from me.  But not my will but Yours be done."

Salvation was in the working, but pain was on deck, ready for its closeup in the role of redemption.

It was awful.  Nearly everyone he loved turned their backs on him.  He was alone.  Arrested for nothing.  Sold for silver.  Beaten.  Humiliated.  Spit on.  Nailed.  Hung.  Left.

Forsaken.  Even God couldn't look at him.

And then, he died.

Hardly a miracle by our standards.

But for whatever reason, God was firm that that was the way it had to happen.

God wanted you, and He gave it all to have you.

I wonder if, while Mary held her lifeless son and Lord, did her face become awash with numbness?

Did she stop believing, even for a moment?

Her Miracle was dead in her arms.

God, what are You going to do now?

BUT GOD WASN'T DONE!!

I like to think that in His almighty way, He remained on the throne with great reverence as He allowed evil to have its way, to do whatever it wanted to His Son.  Allowing them to think that He had lost the greatest war that had ever been waged in the heavenly and earthly realms.

And all the while, perhaps He was muttering under His breath, "Go ahead.  Do what you like.  Do what passion engages you to complete.  Hurt Me.  Betray Me.  Kill Me.  But nothing is going to mess up what I have planned!"

Did His patience give out when the midnight hour struck to welcome Sunday?

Could He hardly contain His excitement?

To resurrect His Son?

To bring hope to the world?

Did He sneak to the tomb at the earliest possible minute to whisper the stone away?  To cradle Jesus in His arms and breathe the breath of resurrection upon his body?

Oh, to have been a fly on the wall of the tomb when death fell away and the miracle was complete!

For the miracle only ended at the tomb--it began in the Garden with a kiss of betrayal.

Do you dare to see?  Do you dare to open your eyes to the greater picture God has?

God couldn't have saved us unless the pain happened, unless death had occurred.

First comes the pain.  Only then can God usher in the miracle!

I had wanted a miracle--do you?  Whatever harm or death or fear you face, my prayer is that you understand that while God could do a preemptive strike and protect you from any pain,

Pain is the stuff miracles are made of.

And maybe your miracle isn't avoiding death but experiencing it, so that God can bring you back to life.

Did my divorce feel like a miracle at the time?  Hardly.  But as I stand ready as a bride-to-be with a redeemed life, a new family, loved beyond measure, knowing infinitely more about my Savior than I ever could have dreamed before,

I can't see that God delivered anything less than a miracle.

From one resurrected life to another, I hope that this weekend that reminds us of his suffering will enable you to rejoice.

After all, it is a good Friday.

Depending on how you look at it.

Chilling Hours

If I close my eyes, the whoosh of the wind sounds a bit like the tide washing ashore.

Ebb and flow.  A rush and silence.

If only it were the ocean instead of a bone-chilling February day not even set to break freezing.

My mom always tells me that winter has its own distinct beauty--bare and minimalistic.

Beauty I find not.  The world looks harsh and hard, like the angular structure of a bitter old woman's jaw, which has found its strength in being clenched.

And it's so quiet.

Chirping birds, laughing children, barking dogs are lost from this wintry soundtrack because, well, no one wants to be outside for a reason.

So it's just the gentle whip of tidal winds that whispers wistfully, crinkling what few brown leaves are left dangling upon a forlorn tree branch.

It's the season that poets use to signify death or withering old age.  Shriveled and dying, I don't hear of nearly as many people who long for winter as the record-breaking number of people who long for autumn's painterly charm (and pumpkin-spiced everything) or spring's mighty rejuvenation of warmth.

But there it sits tucked between two realms of beauty, lackluster and unappreciated.

A time of "I wish it were something else," instead of, "I wish it could last for always."

Tedious as some of us may find it, is it possible that winter not only carries some hidden-from-view beauty, but that it also holds a solid purpose?

Is winter really that important?

I sought to find an answer sufficient to justify this past week of skating rink-worthy highways and wasn't disappointed.

Matthew Kronsberg provides some insight, explaining that not only does cold weather get rid of pesky bugs and pathogens, but also,

"Proper cold serves another important purpose: For perennial crops, shorter days and sustained low temperatures bring a cycle of dormancy, a deep, almost anesthetized sleep, during which growth is temporarily halted.  Measured in 'chilling hours,' this is the time when plants' energy is held in  reserve, building up for new growth ... Without sufficient chilling time, a fruit tree will generate fewer, weaker buds, limiting fruit production from day one." (grist.org, para 2-3, emphasis mine).

As it turns out, it appears that if plants don't freeze right, they won't bloom right.

Which means that a beautiful spring and a plentiful harvest--those lovely seasons that bookend this time of bitter cold--depend on winter to be biting and ugly.

And just as the world can't bloom without hardship, neither can we.

I challenge you to think for a moment about all of the people in your life whom you deem to be a rarity--a treasure in this world; a faith in humanity restored; a gem in the dust.

Think of the plentiful harvest of integrity that lay in Joseph in the Bible--following only being beaten, wrongfully imprisoned, and forgotten much of his early and young adult life.

Recall Abraham, who became the father of all nations--but only after he and his wife Sarah were bitterly barren until their very old age.

Consider Jesus who had to first undergo taunting, betrayal, torture, and a gruesome crucifixion before he rose as the great Messiah who could offer salvation to the world.

Think of the ugliness that was.  And think of the beauty that it became.

Consider all that can quietly take place during the chilling hours of your heart--ridding it of the bad and transforming it for something wonderful.

Unfortunately, our lives can't be one constant season of plenty and beauty.

Or should I say, fortunately, it can't?

For how can you learn to love the light

until you've fumbled in the dark?

How can you learn to savor a hearty meal

until you've understood the pangs of hunger?

What good is the sweet taste of water

unless your throat has ached for moisture?

What joy does having anything possess unless you've had to be without it?

For being without something you cherish can be hard.

But failing to experience unabashed joy because you lack any comparison is a tragedy.

That cold, that season of hardship--whether you're in it or you can recall it--is what the Lord uses to prepare us for the beauty of blooming and for the purpose of fruitfulness.

One can't exist without the other.

May we lie dormant in the winter air--knowing that the hardship may appear to have stolen our vibrancy on the surface, but also having full clarity that the Lord is quietly at work within.

May it be less of a time of "I wish it were something else," and more of, "I take it for what it is."

You're being readied for beauty, my friend.

And the cold?  Well...

It really shouldn't bother you anyway.

"The wilderness and the desert will be glad, and the Arabah will rejoice and blossom; like the crocus, it will blossom profusely and rejoice with rejoicing and shouts of joy." ~Isaiah 35:1-2