MORE SPACE | Making Room for Winter

My Journey to Welcoming Winter

We are coming to the end of winter, and for most of my life, winter has felt like the hardest time of the year - dreary, cold, and gray. I usually spend the months wishing it away, pining after spring.

But something has changed.

As I’ve gotten older, the months don’t feel quite so long, and I’ve begun to notice that wading through the gray weeks actually builds anticipation instead of frustration.

There is hope emerging.

A quiet sense that God has something for me in the waiting - something beautiful, intimate, and often hidden inside the difficult seasons.

So this year, in that strange week between Christmas and New Year’s - the week of no-man’s-land - I attended Amber Housley’s winter virtual retreat and set some goals for January and February. Some were practical and productive, but I also chose an overarching posture for the season. My phrase for the season became Welcome Winter. I decided not to endure it, and not to rush through it, but to live inside it.

I wanted to find joy in the slowness.

To cultivate creativity.

To hunker down by evening fires.

To bundle up for snowy walks.

To savor the long nights.

What it has looked like, more than anything, is making space to slow down - to listen to God, to still my heart, and to be present to the people around me. It’s looked like hosting game nights. lingering at a long table with friends over good food and drinks and letting ordinary moments be enough.

And in immersing myself in the season, I’ve found something surprising:

I’ve been able to both savor winter and look forward to what comes next without the pining.

I’m no longer trying to escape the cold and gray to reach for spring’s warmth and vitality.

I’m receiving the goodness of a darker season while anticipating the next.

A Picture of Slower Living

Every winter PBS releases a new season of All Creatures Great and Small. It’s become our rhythm to settle into Sunday evenings with cozy food, a fire to watch it, and the latest episode.

There’s something deeply comforting about this show. No frantic plotlines, no villains to outsmart - just ordinary people living faithfully in a small English village in the 1930s and ’40s. Their work is hard, their circumstances uncertain, and yet they move through life together. They notice each other. They help without being asked. They use their gifts for the good of the whole community.

No one is trying to stand out.

No one is selling themselves.

They are simply showing up.

Every episode leaves me feeling steadier and optimistic - reminded that growth happens in everyday life, and that ordinary faithfulness is worth celebrating.

Watching it made me realize how often modern life pulls us in a thousand directions, until we barely notice what we ourselves need, much less someone else. Slowing down gives us the ability to recognize both. To see when someone needs support, when there is something to celebrate, or when simply being present matters most.

We were made for community - not for keeping up with everyone, but for truly knowing a few.

Winter, with its natural limits, quietly pushes us back toward that.

Creativity in the Quiet

Another unexpected gift of this season has been creativity.

When life slows, imagination wakes up.

In the margins of winter, I found space to tend to our home, design a rehearsal dinner, host beautiful evenings with friends, and finally put stationery online that I’ve been meaning to create for years. Not big, dramatic accomplishments - just small acts of making that brought life to ordinary days.

Winter didn’t stop creativity.

It gave it room.

Holding Space for Spring

Strangely, welcoming winter didn’t dampen my excitement for spring - it clarified it.

Because I wasn’t rushing past the present, I could actually enjoy anticipating what comes next. Planning a Gulf Coast trip with friends, choosing the house, imagining long sunny days - it all feels like a gift rather than an escape.

I’ve noticed how deeply I crave sunshine. And instead of resenting winter for lacking it, I now receive the coming light with gratitude.

As the season closes, I’m realizing winter has become less of something to survive and more of something to receive - a slower season after the hurry of the holidays, a space to listen, to create, and to remember that growth often happens quietly.

Welcoming winter didn’t make me love the cold.

But it did teach me how to live inside a season without wishing it away.

A Small Note

This reflection actually began during Amber Housley’s virtual retreat in early January. Many of you already know how grounding these seasonal virtual retreats can be - this one shaped my whole winter.

If you’ve never done one and you’re craving a reset or a quieter way to set intentions for a season, I’ve become an affiliate because it genuinely helps me. You can learn more here.