The first week of February came and went. No fireworks. No resolutions. No dramatic promises about becoming a better version of myself by Tuesday. It simply slipped onto the calendar, short and tidy, pretending it doesn’t expect much.
But we all know better.
February may be brief, but it’s observant. It notices things. It notices that the house still bears the evidence of January. It notices unfinished projects, abandoned good intentions, and the pile of seed catalogs still in the freezer that somehow feel more like a test than an invitation.
January was loud about its expectations. February is quieter—and somehow that feels worse.
This is also the month of love, which adds another layer of quiet pressure. Valentine’s arrive with heart-shaped chocolates and the gentle suggestion that love should be tidy, romantic, and easily photographed. But February love is often softer than that. It looks like shared coffee on cold mornings, checking the weather together, or noticing the lawn greening and saying, Well, look at that. It’s the steady kind of love that shows up without needing a holiday to announce itself.
Outside, Winterpast is beginning to stir. The lawn has decided to green up just enough to make weeds feel bold. Pastor Mike has already sprayed them once, which feels both helpful and mildly shaming. The gardens are still sleeping, but not peacefully. More like snoring loudly while dreaming of warmer days.
The sun is stronger now. Coats are still required in the shade, but sunglasses are suddenly necessary in the sun. We are in that confusing in-between season where winter refuses to leave quietly and spring won’t quite step forward yet. It’s awkward. Transitional. A little emotionally confusing.
Perhaps the Winter Olympics has reminded our area that winter never really came. Tonight, we’re expecting the biggest snowstorm of the year. One foot of snow is expected to fall on Donner Pass tonight. After enjoying 70 degrees yesterday, our weather will slam into reverse and pick up more winter weather. We all need the water, so we can’t complain too much.
And so we wait for the storm.
And maybe that’s the gift of this quiet month. February isn’t here to rush us. It’s here to gently tap us on the shoulder and say, “Pay attention”. Change is waiting just beneath the surface.
Springs’ arrival won’t be hurried. Until then, we’ll prepare and wait. It’s a great time to cozy up and enjoy some Bible stories. After all, we haven’t fully bloomed yet, ourselves.
