It has been ridiculously cold this week. The kind of cold that sneaks in through the cracks, that makes you rethink every trip outside, and makes you grateful for every bit of warmth you can find.

And I am grateful. Grateful for a furnace that keeps working, for the many blankets that pile onto my bed, for hot coffee warming my hands in the morning. Grateful that I don’t have to wonder if I can get a coat or if I’ll have shelter from the wind.

Not everyone has that luxury. This kind of cold is a stark reminder of how fragile we are and how much we depend on warmth—not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually, too.

When the world is this cold, warmth becomes something you notice. It’s not just in the heater working overtime or the extra layers we put on. It’s in the kindness of a stranger holding the door open when our hands are too bundled to manage. It’s in the check-in text from a friend, the laughter over a shared meal, the comfort of knowing that, even in the harshest seasons, we are not alone.

I wonder if that’s why so many moments in scripture take place in the cold. Peter warming himself by the fire while Jesus is on trial. The Israelites wandering through the wilderness, exposed to the elements. The shepherds in the fields the night Jesus was born. There is something about the cold that makes us long for the light, the warmth, the assurance that we are seen and cared for.

And God provides that warmth in so many ways. Sometimes it’s through the obvious—shelter, heat, food. It’s also found in the quieter things. The warmth of a good conversation, the peace that comes from knowing we are loved, the way a simple act of kindness can thaw even the coldest heart.

The truth is, warmth isn’t something we just receive. It’s something we give. Just as we wrap ourselves in blankets, we can wrap others in love. Just as we are grateful for the warmth that fills our homes, we can be intentional about bringing warmth to those who are struggling. A meal, a word of encouragement, a small act of generosity—these things matter. They always have.

My wish for you this week, Reader, is an invitation. Not just to notice where you’ve found warmth, but to ask how you can share it. To slow down long enough to offer a bit of kindness. To let gratitude move you toward generosity. That's the fiLLLed life.
​

Live a fiLLLed life, Melissa ​