Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

I’ve started two write nearly one million (approx.) posts this week and have not followed through on any of them. I don’t feel particularly interesting right now. Or witty. Or inspired. I feel like sitting on my couch in sweatpants, reading the Hobbit and not talking to anyone. I am excited for Christmas! Excited that we have our own beautiful little tree! Excited about listening to and playing Christmas carols! Excited to see my family! Excited for a vacation!

But I also feel the darkness in the morning and the evening. The cold and wet of winter. A change looming on the horizon in the new year. And I know God is in it, but I’m still sad about it. Is that what people mean when they call something bittersweet? You know something is good, but it hurts?

This poem popped into my head this morning as I was trying to drag myself out of bed in the dark. This is how I feel today.

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
—Robert Frost

(photo cred)