I made a resolution a few weeks ago.

I realized that I was unhappy. I was unhappy because it was winter, and I don’t like winter. Therefore, I was unhappy.

And then it occurred to me that such a thing was ungrateful. God gave me life. I still have legs. I have lungs. I have a warm home. Food. I am not allergic to chocolate. There’s really no reason I should complain about my life.

I also realized that, by hating the winter – and being unhappy because of it – I was giving a great amount of power to my enemy. If I really hate winter, why would I let it get to me like that? If winter hates me back, wouldn’t it just be sitting back on its haunches, chuckling at my misery? And regardless of whether I consider winter to hold any malice toward me directly, do I really want to wager my happiness on the thermometer? Why would I deliberately be miserable for the next few months?

So I decided to enjoy winter. I donned my warm sock-monkey hat, made some hot chocolate, went sledding 3 times in a week, and threw a few snowballs. I went ice skating in my tennies through the icy parking lot. Tried to blow smoke rings with my foggy breath. And you know what? Winter is more fun than I remembered! I decided that maybe, just maybe, I could really learn to love winter.

And then the temperature dropped below zero. Well played, God. Well played. 


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