One of the beautiful serendipitous moments in my day are the times I find myself holding an empty package of dry paper or cardboard that needs to be disposed. I step lightly down the stairs on my toes and open the door to the wood stove, placing the flammable packaging on the glowing coals. For a moment I stand there, as the flame licks across the dry trash, and I feel the heat lick across my face and chest in the same way.
In my dream home there is a wood stove with a glass door so that I can see the warm coals and feel warmer myself. Beside the stove is a comfortable little set up with chair, table and ottoman in which my dream self would write a dream novel and revel in the red heat.
Many people know how much I love warmth and have grieved for me that I have moved to a more northern clime, a frozen landscape; they assume that the lower external temperatures mean my personal temperature must be as low. The truth is, however, that there is more than one way to be warm. The steamy warmth of the south is not the only means by which these limbs can thaw. The Lord has brought me further north, but He provides all of our needs, and the warm red coals in the wood stove show that he not only created me to enjoy warmth, he has provided the means wherever I go.