Dear February,

I do not like you.

I do not think I ever have.

But I would like to change that.

You have always felt like the hardest month of the year for me. You carry a certain emptiness. A quiet void. My soul often feels weary and dry when you arrive, and there is usually a layer of emotional heaviness resting just beneath the surface.

This year I have noticed something about myself. I focus almost entirely on what I dislike about you. I rehearse the dryness. I expect the ache. I anticipate the fatigue. And when we look for something long enough, we usually find it.

So today I am choosing something different.

Instead of recounting what feels barren, I want to search for what is beautiful. I want to open my photography archives and look for evidence of light in this month. I want to see what February has quietly held over the years. Small beginnings. Pale sunlight. Bare branches with promise hidden inside them.

Yes, February can still feel heavy. I am not pretending otherwise. But perhaps it does not have to remain only that.

I have also been intentional about anchoring my heart in Christ. I do not want my emotions, my thoughts, or my mental state to be grounded in how I feel from day to day. I want them rooted in who He is. In His steadiness. In His life. When I fix my eyes there, the month does not feel as overwhelming.

So this is my invitation to myself.

To look again.

To soften.

To notice beauty where I once only saw lack.

Jesus,

You know the months that feel heavier than others.

You see the dryness before I even name it.

Help me to notice beauty where I once only saw emptiness.

Anchor my heart in You when my emotions feel unsteady.

Teach me to look again with gentler eyes.

In Jesus name, Amen.