By Maya Bryant
I stared out my office doorway to the windows leading to the white landscape outside and sighed. With the first heavy snowfall hitting the Twin Cities, it’s hard to ignore that winter is here. Sure, the cold and the wind chill aren’t anything to scoff at, but I hadn’t needed to pull out my winter coat until the snow hit.
I hate to admit it, but winter is my least favorite season. If seasonal depression wasn’t enough to deter me, then it’s the freezing temperatures and the fact that Minnesotans seem to forget how to drive as soon as the white stuff hits the road. Nature is a haven for me, and I love being outside, but winter is my weak point. I find it suffocating and isolating.
So, as I continued to look out the doorway, I eventually decided to move a little closer. I walked out of my office toward the synod office’s Skyline Room and stood at its entrance, still inspecting the snow. I could barely make out the skyscrapers and buildings that make up Minneapolis.
“Travel times change, clothes change, and attitudes change.”
Another sigh left me as I contemplated how such little particles of frozen water could create such a wall of influence. And yes, I mean influence, because snow, through no fault of its own, does impact the way we go about our lives. Travel times change, clothes change, and attitudes change. Everything seems to slow down or completely grind to a halt.
I moved a little closer to the window and could feel the cold permeating from it. Instead of seeing just a white wall of influence, I could see the small particles swirling through the air and then floating down to the white blanket six floors below. Despite my disdain for the weather, I found it rather peaceful. And then I chuckled. Why is it called ‘a blanket of snow?’ Why not just a covering or a layer? I thought. I always associated blankets with comfort and safety, and I found it ironic.
SAUNTERING BACK TO MY DESK, though, another thought popped into my brain: Maybe the point of calling it a blanket is to bring comfort. The snow embraces the ground, it does not suffocate it. The winter slows us down, not to isolate us, but to help us reflect.
I thought back to last December in the middle of lockdown and the amount of time I had to myself. I returned to positive old habits and hobbies. I even started journaling again after almost 6 months. It was one of the first winters where I did not feel isolated from others because I had intentional time to work on myself. Of course, this self-reflection was practically shoved into my lap because of a pandemic. But even in the summer of 2020, I could busy myself with the outdoors and needless work to avoid honest meditation of my feelings and thoughts. Winter pushed me to take a moment to rest.
“Why is it called ‘a blanket of snow?’”
Slinking in my swivel chair, I took a deep breath and noted how my body felt. It was tired. Achy limbs and slow blinking eyes. Despite this, my mind felt rested for letting my body feel it. I will probably never say winter is my favorite season, or that I enjoy driving in the snow, but I will try to appreciate Nature’s push to take my time and to be patient with myself.