It had hit that cold part of winter. The part of winter when you have a hard time remember how hot and miserable you were in the summer. The part of winter when it is always gray, always overcast, and never snows (at least not here in Virginia).
It's always the hardest part of winter for me. By the end of later January I'm always driving myself crazy. I can't imagine how horrible it must be for my poor husband and daughter. Most days I just feel apathetic and lethargic. I love my life, but for some reason I feel dissatisfied with myself. I want so desperately to grow. I ache for spring. Winter has never been my season. To bleak, to suffocating. Not even hope. Not enough motivation. It's to easy to make excuses to pull the covers tighter and ignore the world around you. It's to cold to think, to cold to care, to cold do do, or feel, or act.
Maybe that is why God gives us cuddly little toddlers. To crawl up into our laps and bring a little warmth. The relentless cold doesn't appear to affect her. She is growing like a weed. Like a daffodil in a green house she is blossoming in the middle of winter. Growing and changing. Thawing my heart out. Giving me reasons to throw off the blanket and dance around the house, just to see her laugh.