Sweaters and Stoves

 May 28, 2021

It’s hard to imagine the need for sweaters when we travel to Cuba on our mission trips. They aren’t a high priority item in May or August when both the temperature and humidity can hover in the 80’s. In winter however, it’s a different story. Here in Western New York, we build our homes with at least six inches of insulation in the walls, and double or triple that in the attics. We have furnaces and fireplaces, wood, gas, and electric to keep us warm. Cuban homes are usually simple cement block construction; they’re sturdy, but hardly energy efficient, without anything even close to resembling central heating, and although the thermometer doesn’t dip to below freezing, temperatures in the 40’s and 50’s are not unheard of in winter. A sweater can be an enormous blessing in Cuba. 

Today has been unseasonably cold, with what feels like a November rain that chills to the bone. Linda and I were in town buying flowers for her to plant on her parents’ graves tomorrow, and an apple tree from her to me for our anniversary next week. The rain was penetratingly cold, soon soaking through the spring jacket I was wearing as we bought the flowers and I picked out a tree. Last week, I removed the wood bin from the back room; this morning I brought in a second armload and deposited it on the hearth. Right now, I’m sitting by the fire, sans sweater, Emma stretched out on the floor in front of me, both of us soaking up the heat. 

A warm home doesn’t occupy my mind often, especially when June is just around the corner, but tonight, I am thankful for insulated walls and attics, for the underground lines that transport the natural gas to our furnace, and for the reliable heat it provides. I am thankful for the wood still stacked in the shed, and the stove that keeps our back room toasty warm. Plenty of people throughout history and around the world have never known the warm luxury I often take for granted. I’m not doing that tonight as I give thanks for this simple, but significant blessing in my life.