LESSONS FROM A FROG
A Story About Joy, Survival, and the Small Things That Save Us
I didn’t notice it all at once.
The days had become darker, colder, and heavier than the hours they contained. Winter had wrapped itself around my chest so tightly I could barely breathe.
The constant barrage of bad news seeped into the widening fissures of my heart, into my morning coffee, into the pauses between breaths. I kept shrinking, pulling in on myself the way small creatures do when danger closes in. Some days the headlines felt like a hand around my throat – not because I was afraid, but because I was sick. Sick of cruelty. Sick of injustice. Sick of watching people suffer. Sick of seeing a world I once knew twist into something unrecognizable. Loved ones were being taken hostage by lies and toxic ideology, dripping from the fangs of wolves in sheep’s clothing. It felt like the door to hell had cracked open and the demons had come out to play.
I didn’t realize it then, but I was grieving. The world had gone black. I had expected things to get ugly, but not like this. Not this cruel, not this relentless. I stopped trusting the ground to stay still beneath me. And somewhere in all of that, I had misplaced myself – not suddenly, but through a slow erosion, a quiet unraveling as darkness inked its way into my soul.
Then December came.
Somehow, I pushed past my feelings of despair, opened a box of decorations, and put lights up in nearly every corner of the house. I baked, wrapped, listened to carols, and made gifts for friends and family. I watched less news and poured myself into the Christmas season.
After a long day of holiday preparations, I decided to soak my weary muscles in our hot tub. I lifted the lid as steam exhaled into the frosty, night air. There he was – a tiny frog tucked under the lid – still as a breath held in. He didn’t budge. He didn’t seem to know the world was dangerous. He only knew where the heat was – trusting it to keep him alive. Like that little frog, I suddenly realized I had found refuge in the warmth of the season, without even knowing I had been trying to survive.
Somehow, that felt like a lesson I had forgotten – that joy isn’t so much a miracle as a practice. A choice. A stubborn act of defiance against a world that keeps trying to grind us down. I remembered that creation is not an escape but a way back to myself – a warm place to tuck myself into when despair closes in.
Lights, ornaments, music, the soft weight of making a gift meant for someone I love – it all pulled me back, piece by piece. Friends filled the house, laughter cracked the shell I’d been living in, and peace fluttered through me for the first time in months. I realized there was still so much that was worth holding onto.
I didn’t come back to myself because the world had softened, but because I remembered I’m allowed to choose beauty even when everything looks bleak.
And maybe that’s all resilience is: finding joy in the little things and holding on until the season changes and the chill finally passes.
Micki Findlay - Author, Poet, and Human Rights Activist
I loved lingering over this piece, Micki. At a time when we all share the weight of a troubled world, you have a given us a ray of sunshine, a reminder that we may not be able to right all the wrongs but we can create our own happiness, our own little corner of warmth and happiness. Thank you!