When Movement Finds You (and My Hair Is Still Gray)
Last weekend, an ice and snow storm rolled in and decided to stay awhile.
The roads were slick. The air was bitter. And I found myself mostly at home, again.
I’ll be honest — it felt frustrating at first. I had hoped for more movement, more fresh air, more doing. Instead, winter narrowed my world down to these familiar walls, and I could feel that old tug toward disappointment creeping in.
But God has a way of meeting me in ordinary places.
Somewhere between making meals and wiping down the counters, music came on, and I started dancing in the kitchen.
Nothing fancy. Nothing planned. Just me, moving because it felt good. I laughed at myself a little. And then I thanked God for a body that still knows how to move, even when circumstances feel limiting.
Living without a scale this year has been teaching me that movement doesn’t have to look a certain way to matter. It doesn’t need to be tracked or impressive. Sometimes it’s just obedience to joy — listening when your body whispers instead of waiting for permission to do more.
This winter season has been asking that kind of listening from me in other ways, too.
I haven’t colored my hair in almost two years now. The gray didn’t arrive all at once, — it came quietly, strand by strand, until one day I realized I was no longer “letting it grow out.” I was simply living with it.
Next week, I’m going in for a glaze. Not to cover the gray, not to erase the years — just to soften things a bit. And I’ll tell you more about that next time.
It feels fitting somehow. This whole season of life does.
I’m learning that tending isn’t the same as fixing. That care doesn’t have to come from dissatisfaction. That we’re allowed to hold both acceptance and desire — trusting God with the tension between the two.
The storm will pass. I’ll get outside again. My hair will shift slightly. None of it needs to be rushed.
For now, I’m grateful. Grateful for warmth, for music, for a kitchen floor sturdy enough to dance on. Grateful for a God who meets me not just in progress, but in pause.
This is what I’m learning to trust this year:
grace finds us exactly where we are.
Held — not measured — even here.
Comments
2 responses
Grace is a beautiful gift. Unconditional love for yourself and others can be a chore. But if we let go and be what God desires for each of us it comes freely and easy. ❤️
Having that feeling to dance was exactly as you said “ God was meeting you” .
I believe the world gives a picture of how skinny one should be and what one should look like! Instead be healthy and happy! You are beautiful 💕