Whatever the Weather, We’ll Weather the Weather, Whether We Like It or Not

Thirteen years ago, with a newborn son and thick in packing for our move to Manila, tears were easy. I was leaving known and loved and had little more than a mental blank space for where I was moving. One thing I did know, something repeated almost anytime someone heard of our move to Manila, was that the Philippines is hot and humid. Each comment stoked my lurking fear and dread for something I could not fix. Into this turmoil spoke a challenge from a book I was reading: “Never allow yourself to complain about anything–not even the weather.”¹

Never complain about the weather?! Complaining seemed like normal human functioning, an easy though boring conversational fallback, nothing to make a big deal about. Why did I have to read this so soon before moving to a place with weather that felt impossible to me? How realistic even was this?

Weather is challenging.

Manila met my expectations of challenging weather. I did not know you could sweat on the backs of your knees. Mold and mildew regularly stalked our clothes and books. Sweat returned right out of the shower. Clothes needed to be washed daily, and some days required two showers. Wrap-around baby carriers lost a tiny bit of nostalgia, though not use, to what could only be called too hot.

Manila surprised me in many wonderful ways. Plants thrived in the warm air dripping with moisture, making me feel like Thumbelina. Coconut water is the ultimate refresher. The blue of the sky was deep and almost constant. I could walk to the end of our block and snag fresh tropical fruit and veg, including creamy, sweet mangos and huge, delicious avocados.

When God relocated us to Edmonton four years ago, the contrast in climate was a notable, almost comical difference. In the depths of winter, I wear many layers to go outside. On wintry walks, frost shows up on my eyebrows–one of the only places not covered. Sunlight hours in winter are short, even in this sunniest province; my struggle against depression our first winter was real. Blankets of snow and tree silhouettes lend a monochromatic look to the landscape when skies are gray.

Along with the challenges of winter came new and radically different forms of exercise: skating, snowshoeing, downhill and cross-country skiing, and sparkly walks. The edges of wintry days are the essence of cozy. When snow coats everything, I still eat non-local produce, with warm sunshine in my mouth if nowhere else. The variety of weather across a year is staggering and deeply refreshing.

It’s not about the weather.

The challenge of weather is universal. No one is born with a unique temperature tolerance along with eye color and hand dominance. Most of us have fans or air conditioning for hot weather; all with extreme cold have a way to heat. The ability to modify temperatures is a tremendous gift, allowing not merely survival but also convenience, comfort, and productivity–all valuable things. But there may be a hidden cost.

With the ease and immediacy of modifying our temperatures, we may also be internalizing an expectation of what we require to function. Many drive to work, work inside, and return home, all within climate-controlled environments. None of us is making thermostat choices on a survival basis. And we may, while changing the thermostat, be limiting our functional capacity to a range of 10 degrees. The more consistently we are comfortable, the weaker our endurance, the less adaptable we are, and the more demanding our enjoyment. We become weather-fragile.

Recognizing this frees us to think outside of our experience, to stretch beyond our comfort. No one was born particularly suited for the tropics or particularly for the far north. The answer to “Could I live in that climate?” is a resounding yes. Millions of people already do. The better question is “Can I learn to enjoy it?” And again, a solid yes.

Thrive wherever you are.

Thriving does not imply an ignorance of or deadness to difficulty. Recognize what is challenging to you about where you live; this is humility. Do what you can to lessen the difficulty–there are no bonus points for complicating life. You may need to take a short nap at the hottest time of day or triple your vitamin D intake in winter; get clothing that suits where you live; drink lots of water. Learn from others who manage well. Work for a humble honesty that stares unflinchingly at difficulty, accepting the hard without complaining.

To flourish wherever you live, look for others who already are. Contented cheerfulness in hard circumstances is not a personality trait; it’s an intentional choice. Ask them what they love, and develop your own answers. Flourishing comes in many forms. Not all who do winter well enjoy bundling up and going for walks; others like puzzles and early bedtimes and hot cups of tea. Flourishing has nothing to do with your level of activity, your personal upbringing, or your skills and hobbies. Flourishing is what the contented person does. Contentment is a choice. You have to want to thrive wherever you are.

Don’t move somewhere because of the weather.

Climate is a great consideration for a vacation; it should not be a primary consideration for where to live. For a believer, primary considerations should be the presence of a faithful church (or the commitment and burden to start one), job availability, workability, and ministry need.

Live where the need fitting your ability to serve is greatest. We live in a huge world with staggering needs. So what if you don’t enjoy the weather? Keep it to yourself. And why not try?

¹ Linda Dillow’s “Calm My Anxious Heart”