When Winter Is Long

Lorelei Savaryn seeks out hope among the barren branches. 

This has been an exceptionally long winter. I know, in a literal sense, that winter spans the same stretch of time year in and year out, but the winter I speak of is a different kind. And whether it is the winter outside your window that feels long or whether the winter you face one in which barren branches shake and snow swirls in the unseen places of your soul- it can be difficult to bear the enduring gray and cold.  

I have found that my personal winter, which has lasted many years, is heading to its culmination (and hopefully its end) while the world around me lingers in the clutches of the tangible season itself. My personal, inner winter consists of chronic pain brought on by endometriosis. I thought spring had come in November when I had my first excision surgery. Instead, I received a secondary diagnosis through that procedure that required several more months hurting and another surgery in a few weeks that will finally bring healing.

I didn’t ever picture myself as the kind of person who would need one surgery to treat a disease, let along two within six months. So I find myself still here. In chronic pain, in waiting, while winter rages on. Outside my window, the landscape is brown and fallow. The world is still and worn.  

Winter Outside and Winter Within  

Winter can often be dark and lonely. The wind bites at our cheeks and we brace ourselves against the chill. Sometimes our knees buckle and our lungs fight to find air.  

It is important, vital maybe, to acknowledge that the lifelessness before us is very real. But it is equally important to remember that winter is not the entire story. The quiet, the still, the cold, it is all part of a bigger narrative, one that promises change in the days to come.  

That bigger story is the one single, beautiful truth that makes winter a thing that we can bear. Because within that story lies hope. Hope that the days and nights will not always be this cold. That we will see more of the sun and that it will once again warm our shoulders. That the light will grow longer and the darkness will wane. 

Winters Don’t Last Forever  

 In this long winter of mine that matches the one outside my window, I choose hope because I know that winters don’t last forever. I hold within me the wisdom of having seen many winters pass before. I’ve watched ponds thaw and flowers burst from the earth, their petals unfurling to the sun. I’ve born witness to the bright green of spring leaves building shade beneath the branches and the birds returning and building their nests in the crook of a crabapple tree.  

I can plant seeds of hope while I wait for spring to arrive. For me, this looks like noticing the sun when it finds its way through a thick blanket of clouds. It means doing things that warm my soul, like reading, lighting candles, and playing with watercolors. It means being merciful and gracious to myself in this harsh season, and cultivating patience, and carving space for rest. Placing a vase of beautiful cut flowers in my kitchen as a sign of things to come and placing my pain in the hands of Jesus during prayer. These things help me keep my eyes on the beauty that can be found, yes, even in this season, and also on the promise that winter will not last forever. 

I can’t force winter’s end any sooner than it is meant to. But while I wait, I will sow seeds of hope in my heart for the better days to come.   

Because spring will arrive. It must. It always does.  

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Copyright 2025 Lorelei Savaryn
Images: Canva