By the time February settles into our Ozark hills, winter has a way of leaning on us. 

The sky turns a dependable shade of gray, the roads look tired, and even our coffee seems to need encouragement. It is the season when motivation can tend to hibernate. Frigid weather shows up abruptly on our doorsteps with force and a will of its own in the form of snow. It might be light and lovely, or potentially heavy and icy enough to keep us tucked inside our homes for days at a time. 

And yet, during this cold season I am reminded that we do not have to wait for spring to feel alive again. Sometimes, all it takes is a mini-gratitude moment, which is essentially a deliberate pause to notice something good, small, and right there in front of us.

A mini-gratitude moment might be as simple as stepping outside on a clear night and letting the stars interrupt your worries. Bundle up, tuck your hands into your coat pockets, and look up. The sky is extravagant in winter. It offers quiet proof that beauty still exists even when the ground looks frozen and uninviting. Maybe your mini-gratitude moment comes from flipping through seed catalogs and visualizing a garden that could emerge next summer. Winter does not have to be about hibernation. It can be about gentle activation.

In my own small winter ritual, I fill the bird feeders. I enjoy the few seconds of silence before the flutter begins. Then, as if they have been standing in a line I cannot see, the birds arrive. They are eager, grateful and unashamed of their need. Winter has taken away their easy access to food, so when it appears, they do not hesitate. They come quickly, fully and with purpose. Watching the birds can echo a reminder of the way I think about hunger, not just for birds, but for people.

Feeding the birds is, in many ways, like feeding the hungry. There are multiple reasons that our neighbors may be facing obstacles to having access to adequate nutrition. Some causes can include unemployment, illness, loss of income, rising prices or caregiving for young children when daycare is not affordable. The consequence of these challenges can make having enough food to eat an obstacle instead of a given. 

Hunger comes as an unannounced quiet voice of suffering. It usually whispers through skipped meals, watered-down soup, or a parent who insists they are “not that hungry” so their child can eat. Like the birds in winter, many families have fewer easy options than we imagine to source their dinner tables. 

As the director of Cassville Pantry, I witness in the lives of our neighbors how foundational food truly is. Being fed is not a luxury. Having a full stomach, starting with something to eat for breakfast is the first brick in the building of one’s day. Without it, productivity, learning, healing, and hope all struggle to emerge. When someone has enough to eat, they have energy to work, patience to parent, focus to learn, and strength to recover. A box of groceries is never just groceries. It is a quiet restoration of purpose and possibility.

This is where mini-gratitude moments turn outward. One might consider making a pot of chili or soup and delivering it to someone who is elderly, recovering from illness or simply unable to get out easily in winter. Another outreach could include making a phone call, writing a handwritten note, or offering to pick up someone’s groceries. Gratitude grows best when it is shared.

Winter invites us to cultivate even while the ground sleeps. We can cultivate projects, friendships, and compassion. We can activate instead of isolate. We can remember that community is not built only in sunshine, but in how we show up for one another when the days feel heavy and the nights feel long. Feeding the birds reminds me that kindness does not have to be complicated. It just has to be consistent.

There is a quiet joy in helping someone survive a winter day. Not in a dramatic, headline-worthy way, but in the ordinary miracle of a meal or through a supportive conversation. By touching our neighbors in small ways, we are taking baby steps in strengthening a whole community. When one person is seen, acknowledged and supported, we all stand a little steadier.

As I watch the birds scatter seeds across the frigid ground, I am reminded of simple truths and an invitation calling out to care for our neighbors in ways that are practical and heartfelt. Giving works best when it flows from an authentic, heartfelt desire rather than from obligation. 

Scripture puts it this way: “Each of you should give what you have decided in your heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.” 2 Corinthians 9:7. 

In Colossians 3:12 we are encouraged, “As God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience,” and 3:14, “Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony.”

If you are feeling blue in the bleak mid-winter, try a mini-gratitude moment. Look up. Plan ahead. Share a meal. Call a neighbor. Feed a bird. You may discover that winter did not steal your joy at all, it simply invited you to practice it more intentionally.

Janet Mills is the director of Cassville Pantry, located at 800 W. 10th St. in Cassville. She may be reached at [email protected] or 417-846-7871.