Lord, the cold has come. Perhaps not for everyone, but for me.

Cracking skin, marrow soaked in the pin-pricks

of wind unchecked and chilled deeply.

My heart is drawn to the chill-

maybe because I see so much darkness, early darkness

in children and the innocent eyes taken too soon.

Maybe my heart is drawn there because

I have lost, I am lost, or I know

that loss is immanent.

Give me today the immense strength and stamina

to speak into the face of the winter whip and say,

"Abba, You are enough for me. If you are all I have, then you are all I need."

Yes. Let it be true.