Finding God in the Winter Seasons
There are seasons we love, and there are seasons we would rather avoid.
For me, if we're talking about the actual seasons of the year, it's winter. I often joke that I'm a lizard because without warmth and sunshine, I really struggle. I don't like going out as much, our electricity bill climbs as I try to keep warm, and if I'm honest, I'm usually counting down the days until spring arrives.
Yet over the years, I've come to understand something about winter.
There was a time when I would spend the whole season frustrated. I'd be moody, impatient, and focused only on how uncomfortable I felt. But now I can see that even winter has purpose. Even in the cold, there is growth taking place beneath the surface.
There is an invitation to slow down, to appreciate what we often overlook, and to recognise that every season has value.
Life is much the same.
Our personal lives, relationships, work, parenting, and faith all move through seasons. As a family, this current season has felt like it has lasted forever. I won't pretend it has been easy. If you've read some of my previous blogs, you'll know it has been one of the hardest seasons we've walked through. At times it has felt like I'm constantly trying to come up for air.
These days I'm taking life one day at a time.
I'm also incredibly thankful for the tools I now have. They allow me to stay with the discomfort a little longer instead of immediately trying to escape it. They've helped me develop patience in situations that are completely outside of my control. For someone who has lived with Complex PTSD, that hasn't come naturally. My nervous system learnt survival, not stillness.
But God has been teaching me something different.
I don't think our world equips us well for difficult seasons.
Social media often shows only half of the story. We see the harvest but rarely the planting. We celebrate success but hide the waiting. As a collective, we begin striving for a life that doesn't really exist—a life without winters.
At the same time, the news often does the opposite. It constantly reminds us of everything that's wrong, creating fear and anxiety until we lose our ability to recognise the goodness that still exists. We either believe we're failing because our life doesn't look like someone else's highlight reel, or we become so consumed by fear that we miss the quiet gifts hidden within difficult seasons.
Lately, I've reflected often on the story of Job.
I'm certainly not comparing myself to Job, but I understand what it feels like when one hardship seems to follow another. Like a snowball gathering momentum, there are seasons where one phone call leads to another challenge, one disappointment leads to another uncertainty.
Job experienced unimaginable grief, loss, rejection and sadness.
Yet what stands out to me isn't simply what happened to him it's how he responded.
He sat.
He grieved.
He didn't immediately search for a quick fix.
He didn't distract himself or rush onto autopilot.
He paused.
That pause didn't remove his pain.
It didn't restore what he'd lost.
But it created space to recognise God.
I wonder how often we allow ourselves to do the same.
How often, instead of desperately searching for solutions, do we simply pause long enough to observe, to witness what is happening within us, and to notice God's presence right there in the middle of it?
This is one of the reasons I'm so passionate about somatic work.
When I tell some Christians what I do, I can sometimes sense they're unsure. I understand that. The word "somatics" can sound unfamiliar.
But somatic work didn't pull me away from God.
It helped me become more aware of Him, it didn't replace my faith.
It gave me the ability to pause long enough to experience it.
Somatics quite literally changed my life. It helped me step off autopilot. It helped me stop living as though my complex trauma was making every decision for me. It taught me to notice what was happening in my body instead of reacting from it. In that space of awareness, I found I was much more able to recognise God's presence, even in the darkest moments.
I still don't understand why some things happen, I don't always know what God is doing.
But I'm becoming more okay with not knowing.
For so much of my life I believed my job was to manage, control and fix everything. That's what survival taught me.
Now I realise that, much like energy, when we constantly interrupt the natural process, we often create more chaos. But when we allow things to move, to flow, and to unfold, they eventually find their own place of resolution.
God designed creation with rhythms, the seasons outside often reflect the seasons within.
There is wisdom in that.
Right now, I don't know when our car will be fixed and I don't know whether we'll receive all of our money back.
Our family of six has now been without our vehicle for six weeks. We're still paying the loan, registration and insurance on a car that has been deemed unsafe and unroadworthy. We're just one of thousands of families caught up in an ACCC case involving vehicles that should never have been sold in this condition. Some people have been waiting for months. Some have needed legal representation. Others are still waiting for answers.
Only last month, we finally came through another long season of uncertainty surrounding my mum's estate. For two years, I lived with the daily question of,
Will today be the day we finally have answers?
It was exhausting. It stretched me in ways I never expected..
Looking back now, I can see how much that season changed me.
The old version of me would have been writing letters, fighting every battle, confronting everyone involved, and carrying the weight of every outcome. In many ways, I did spend those two years fighting for someone else's benefit and by the end of it, I had nothing left to give.
Not anymore.
Partly because I simply don't have the capacity after spending the last two years fighting battles for someone else's benefit.
But mostly because something has changed within me.
I'm learning to wait.
Not because I've given up.
But because I'm learning to trust.
I want to trust.
And for the first time, I'm genuinely thankful for a season that is stretching my faith, deepening my patience, and revealing how much God has already transformed me.
Sometimes the greatest miracle isn't that our circumstances change.
Sometimes it's that we do.
As much as I still long for spring, I'm beginning to see the beauty that winter leaves behind.
Perhaps that's what faith looks like.
Not pretending winter isn't cold.
Not denying that waiting is hard.
But believing that even here, beneath the surface, God is still growing something beautiful.
"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens."Ecclesiastes 3:1
Maybe today you're in a winter season too.
If you are, I pray you don't rush through it or believe that God has forgotten you.
Instead, may you find the courage to pause.
To breathe.
To notice.
And to discover that even in the waiting, God has never left your side.
If you're longing to stop living on autopilot, find safety within yourself, and learn how to become more aware of God's presence in every season, my Embody His Love package was created for you. Together we'll gently explore how somatic practices can help regulate your nervous system, strengthen your connection with God, and create space to respond with peace rather than survival.
Because healing isn't about escaping the hard seasons it's about learning to walk through them knowing you are safe, seen, and never alone.
