We’re enjoying the beauty of frosty mornings for the last few weeks. It was heavy (for our region) for a week in particular, with prickly frost spurs sticking up on top of benches, branches and leaves and very slippery pavements.
These mornings have their own magic that calls me to stop and be present. If I spend a little time outdoors experiencing it, it enables me to have a short respite from clamouring worries, noisy thoughts, endless to do lists, overwhelming worries about what I have and haven’t done.
Perhaps it’s because it has a uniqueness and enfolding beauty so much greater than us. Perhaps it’s because for a while it does transform the world around and that takes me away from memories associated with the location inescapable in day to day life.
As much as I love it, it makes me deeply thankful for our safe home, that we have enough money to pay our fuel bills, that our bills are relatively stable on a fixed plan, that we have a car (which we depend on anyway let alone when ice and snow clash with crutches and wheelchair), that we can stay safe at home when we need to, that we live somewhere that isn’t cut off by more extreme weather…. We know a couple of the homeless people in our town and know what they are going through is beyond what we could imagine. We also know for both of us how very close we came to being there on the streets, when our health and finances and social situation came to crisis point. It’s horrific. We need to stop, to feel that pain in empathy with them. We can’t do great things but we do try to say hello, offer a hot drink, listen to them and show we care. It’s not everything, not even a drop amid the sea of everything that makes up their situation – but it’s something done in love.