When Winter Lingers: Strength for the Slow Shift to Spring
March is a funny month. The world is supposed to be waking up-buds pushing through cold soil. birds testing out their morning songs-but most days, it still feels like winter.
And inside your home?
It feels like winter there, too.
The kids are restless. The lessons feel like a hamster wheel instead of a spark. You catch yourself sighing more than smiling, counting the hours until bedtime, wondering if you’re even making a dent in their education-or if it’s all just slipping through cracks.
You’re not failing.
You’re in a season that tests your endurance.
And endurance doesn’t look like rushing through to get to the “good part.” It looks like knowing how to walk when running isn’t an option.
Why March Feels Heavy (And What to Do about It)
January started with determination.
February was survival mode.
March? March is the slow middle-the part of the race where your legs burn and your mind starts whispering, “Is this even worth it?”
It’s the point where most people start making rash decisions:
“Maybe we need a whole new curriculum”
“Maybe I should just ease up completely.”
“Maybe we should have gone the traditional school route after all.”
March has a way of making you doubt what you were so sure of in September.
But the problem isn’t your school plan.
It’s weariness.
Weariness makes everything feel heavier than it actually is.
And you don’t need a way out-you need a way through.
How to Keep Moving When You Feel Done
Tighten the Schedule, Loosen the Expectations
If lessons are dragging, cut them down. If the structure is suffocating, shift it. Fifteen minutes of intense focus is more effective than an hour of frustration. A chapter read on the couch still counts as learning. Pausing to breathe makes you a wise mom, not a lazy one.
This isn’t about lowering standards-it’s about preserving strength for what actually matters.
Make Space for Mother Culture (Before You Crack)
Your mind is well, and you’ve been drawing water for everyone else. At some point, it runs dry. You need inputs, not just outputs. You need beauty, depth, and something that makes you feel alive. Not just “self-care,” Soul-care.
A book that stirs your mind. A poem that shakes you awake. A playlist that reminds you who you are. A moment outside that brings silence back into your spirit and reminds you exactly who and what you are.
You can’t run on empty. And your kids don’t just need a teacher-they need a mom who isn’t running on fumes.
3. Shift the Atmosphere (Not Just the To-Do List)
When everything feels stagnant, your home needs a shake-up. Not a full overhaul-just enough to breathe fresh life in. Play music that makes your soul lift. (Gregorian chants? Jazz? Folk? Let it fill the silence.) Light a candle, open a window and air out the house, clear a space. Small shifts, big difference. Let the kids work somewhere new. A blanket fort? The front porch? Fresh scenery, fresh energy.
Small movements trick the brain into seeing progress with fresh eyes-and sometimes, that’s all you need to get through the hard middle.
You’re not behind.
You’re being strengthened.
The lie March tells? That you should be further along.
“You should have more done.”
“You should be less tired.”
“You should be better at this by now.”
But God isn’t measuring you by your productivity. He’s measuring you by your faithfulness. And faithfulness isn’t flashy-it’s showing up when no one is clapping. It’s continuing even when the progress is invisible.
March doesn’t need a superhero version of you-just the real, steady, enduring you who knows that even slow growth is still growth.
A Prayer for the Weary March Mom
Gracious Lord,
March feels like a long stretch of nowhere. I want to feel momentum, excitement, a second wind-but instead, I feel slow, dull, worn thin. I doubt my progress. I question my ability. I wonder if I’m enough.
But You, Lord-You never rush, and You never waste a season. Even in the slowness, You are growing something in me. Even in the weariness, You are strengthening me. Even when I don't see fruit, the roots are going deep.
So give me eyes to see beyond today’s exhaustion. Give me patience for this in-between place. Give me grace to show up-even when it’s not perfect. And when I can’t see the progress, let me see You.
Amen and amen.
You don’t have to sprint.
Just keep walking consistent. March is a test of endurance, not speed.
The ones who make it through aren’t the ones who push harder-they’re the ones who learn to walk wisely.
Spring is coming.
You’re not stuck.
You’re being strengthened.
And that is enough.
“But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”
