It snowed this week. That’s not unusual, yet it still feels like a step back from moving forward into the next season. Here we were, enjoying slightly warmer temperatures, sunshine, and the crocus buds pushing through the soil, only for Mother Nature to say, “Nope! Not today!” plunging us into a blanket of snow. One of my friends has someone plow their driveway. She lamented the other day how the plow guy removed the marker stakes from the ground one day, only to return the next day to replace them (I hadn’t gotten around to removing mine yet).

Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? As you think you’re moving forward, something prevents you from doing so, and you stumble back a little bit. That’s life.

The bulbs of growth you saw break through the soil are now buried under several inches of the cold, wet stuff. It’ll melt off in a few days as temperatures return to “normal,” but until then, that growth is stopped, stunted, or no longer happening. So, you … pivot. What else are you going to do?

I’ll let you in on a little secret: I’m not a fan of the snow. I never have been. I’m a sun and surf kind of guy, not the ski and freeze kind. The only reason I’m still in New England is to make sure my kids can venture out on their own eventually. But I have made a decision, and I should only have one more winter to deal with this.

I live in a small town, one you might see on the Hallmark Channel if we had a more picturesque downtown. Nonetheless, the architecture and area look like quintessential New England. Nearly every day for the last ten years or so, I’ve had to drive by the funeral home that took care of my second husband. Every time I drive by, I remember that day hundreds gathered to say goodbye. 

You can no more stop the weather than you can the waves of grief or the onslaught of memories with certain triggers. You can, however, learn to pivot when those things happen.

I’ve written about mindset many times, and it’s the one thing I know that significantly impacts my emotional well-being. If I don’t like where my mind is, I’m the only one that can change it. How powerful is that?

It used to be whenever I saw that funeral home, I would shed tears. I’d remember giving my eulogy, our daughter bravely talking about her dad, and our son sitting stoically. We were surrounded by friends and family and strangers I didn’t know.

After a while, I started to think of it differently, not as a somber, sad, heartbreaking moment (it was) but as a celebration and testament of our love for him and a reflection of his impact on our community. Rather than focus on the eulogy’s tears, I started focusing on the memory of holding the small candles and singing “This Little Light of Mine.” I thought about how another friend lovingly created a video montage and remembered the smiles.

Rather than focus on the tears, I trained my mind to focus on the love. I told my mind to pivot.

Our mindset is important as we view life through the lens of our loss. The loss has changed what we know to be true. So, if the truth has changed, we must change how we view the truth.

Here’s an example: Instead of saying, “I have to get through my day,” try shifting to, “I get to live this day.” Do you feel the power in that change? Do you feel an obligation and requirement in the former statement (“I have to”)? Do you feel the empowerment and possibility in the latter (“I get to”)?

Your mindset is a powerful tool not only for healing from loss but also for dealing with the rigors of day-to-day living, such as those days when fresh snowfall covers the delicate flowers emerging from the earth.

This week’s blanket of snow reminds us of life’s unexpected turns, where we also find a lesson in resilience and the power of perspective. The snow will melt, the crocus once again reaching toward the sun. Like those beautiful buds, we can pivot, too. We can find strength, beauty, and love by embracing the moment before us and using a “get to” mindset.