Nights have been below zero. Days haven't risen much higher than 8 degrees. It is snug and warm inside thanks to the efforts of my men. Matthew has banked the house with copious amounts of snow pushed up with the Kubota. We used to tease him that the tractor was permanently attached to his bottom he likes running it so much. Now I am thankful for his skill gained from so many hours in the seat of that tractor. He braves the cold to take round bales to the animals and to break the ice on the creek to make sure that they have plenty of water. There is wood piled up in the basement and the garage aplenty to get us through until it warms up again. Again, Matthew braves the cold to bring wagon loads of wood inside to fill the woodbox next to the stove in the diningroom. Mary-Kate dutifully goes down into the basement and puts wood into the furnace and fills the stove when it is in need. It seems as though this cold makes their hunger even greater.
It all reminds me of a song that we sang a few years ago with the Chorale, In the Bleak Mid-Winter. But somehow this midwinter doesn't seem bleak but more comforting. I look around me at the cooperation of my older children. they work together to keep our home running in the face of my inability and their father's being away so much. There is no complaint, no comment. They merely shoulder the responsibility as the s that they have become should. And there is a certain comfort in that. Their father knows that after a 14 hour day of work he will come home to a well run home, warm and cozy and welcoming. A tribute to his example and his raising of them. A tribute to his faith in the God that guides his life and work.