The Cold

Last night, my husband and I went to my parents’ house for dinner. On the way out, the frosty grass crunched under our shoes like crumpled paper. That smell in the air—a combination of fire, frost, and smoke—reminded me we are still in the bleak midwinter, as mild as it is in Texas.

When I was a kid in Massachusetts, winter was more than a season. It’s the default up there. Once the coats and boots come out, it’s going to be a while. You’ll get used to it—to the stuffy rooms, the tight layers of sweaters and fleece, the thick socks in heavy shoes, the salt on the sidewalk, the cold. And then, when it’s over, there’s this elation—everything is lighter.

Down in Texas, it rarely gets cold. But when it does, everything stops.

Last week, we had a few days where the temperature never got above freezing. One night, it got down to about 16. This happens every year for a day or two, and the same thing always heralds it…the rush to buy all the eggs and bread.

I don’t really get that—I don’t eat a ton of sandwiches or eggs, so we didn’t buy them. And it’s not like the traditional dish of winter in Texas is fried-egg sandwiches, so I don’t get it. We did, however, buy a bunch of instant noodles and instant oatmeal. Then we made sure the spigots were covered outside and that our faucets were dripping so the pipes wouldn’t freeze, and I washed every blanket, sock, sweater, and jacket in the house. Then we shut the door, locked it tight, and charged all our phones.

I’ve only experienced one wintertime power outage down here, and it was in 2021. For a few days, we had no heat and no light, and the cold crept into the house, degree by degree, making our lovely home less and less inhabitable, more and more alien. We had to eat dry cereal and apples, we used candles, we used flashlights, and we spent most of the day in bed, covered with every quilt.

After it was over, I went and bought the best power pack I could afford and one of those really nice Stanley thermoses—that’s right, I was into Stanley cups before the big craze. I don’t get it—they look like missiles. Maybe everybody else is just more thirsty than I am.

It didn’t happen this time. The power stayed on, and although I boiled water and filled the thermos every few hours, we didn’t need it. God preserved us.

There’s something about winter…it reminds me how close we always are to destruction. That sounds dramatic, I know, but it’s true—people freeze to death. Until comparatively recently, only the wealthy were reliably warm in these kinds of temperatures. When I was a kid, and it would snow, I always loved it, but there was a morbid fascination.

Right now, as I’m typing this, the sun has just risen. There’s no snow. The sky is pinkish-yellow near the horizon, rising to the deep blue dome of Texas. The sky is usually blue here. It can be so easy to live here, I forget that God is every moment holding on to us. Springtime and Harvest, and everything after that.

Also, just a shout-out to Massachusetts, though the winter may be a beast, it is unfailingly beautiful. And the Christians that live there, slogging to church in the winter and wearing coats in April, are the kinds of Christians you should get to know.

I’m not going to pray for spring to get here faster. This year I want to thank God for his preservation in the cold.