Many conversations these days are about the weather. At least where I live, the cold and ice make everyday life more arduous. Spending time outside is dicey, even just walking your dog. I admit to being relieved that I no longer own chickens. Keeping their water fluid, and their skinny legs warm were of constant concern, though birds are dear for other reasons.

 

I noticed that last December, though it was technically winter, the focus of most people's attention was elsewhere. Christmas was a stellar distraction from the thermometer, such that I felt cozy from different causes. Maybe the air was nippy. Maybe not. But I had brighter things on my mind. In that way, I whisked past the first third of the season without noticing. I woke up to January, and it was as if I had a jump start on the marathon that arrives every year. That awareness gives me the impetus to believe that I can survive until the explosion of daffodils. 

 

Black bears know this. Winter is unbearable? Sleep through most of it, and when you wake up you can deal with finding food. 

 

One part of the process of completing a quilt requires serious energy. Wrestling with twelve yards of fabric under the needle to quilt three layers together takes grit. Sometimes my wrists ache after an hour, and if I don't watch my posture, my back hurts. This weekend I turned on a video about the afterlife to listen to while I was working. The dialogue distracted me from the focus of my fingers, which it turns out don't need my complete mental acumen. Well, maybe a tad more than I was giving them. I did run the needle over my thumb. Luckily this particular quilt is red, so that mishap added to the perspiration and crying that have christened others of my collection. 

 

But it also lightened the struggle that I have come to expect when powering through the process of free motion quilting. In fact, my shoulders were more relaxed. Reflecting on the closeness of heaven and the people there that I love took the edge off of a task that frankly is taxing. 

 

Sometimes I am clever enough to create distractions. More often God steps in. Then my eyes open and I realize the sun has returned.