Have you ever heard the phrase, “Cold hands, warm heart?” Papaw said it to me a lot when I was growing up, and I think of it every time my fingers turn icy—which has been every waking moment since this winter weather rolled in.
The idiom, which gained popularity in the early 1900s, means don’t judge a book by its cover. It’s often used to describe people who seem reserved or distant but are kind and warm once you get to know them.
For me, the phrase rings true in more ways than one. I was a shy kid—honestly, I’m still that way. Around strangers, I tend to hold back, distant at first, until I feel comfortable enough to let my guard down. But when Papaw said it, I’m pretty sure he meant it literally.
I don’t know if it’s poor circulation or something else, but my hands have always been like blocks of ice. It doesn’t matter if it’s the heat of summer or the dead of winter—they stay cold year-round. Now that winter has officially settled in, though, it feels like I’m frozen solid.
When I was little, I’d do anything to fight off the cold. Some of my clearest memories are of standing next to the heater, soaking up every bit of warmth I could. On especially frigid days, I’d camp out by the wood stove, turning myself like a rotisserie chicken to evenly defrost. I’d step away looking sunburnt.
Even now, as an adult, I’m no stranger to the battle against the cold. My house is filled with wool throw blankets, and I’ve mastered the art of layering socks. I keep a space heater nearby, and when working from home, there’s a good chance I’m wrapped in a flannel robe with a heating pad tucked behind me.
Papaw, as always, was onto something. He saw the heart of me. Cold hands aside, I’ve spent my life chasing the kind of warmth that goes beyond the physical—the kind that reaches your soul. And funny enough, I find it in the smallest, most ordinary moments.
It’s cuddling up to Brandon on a cold night as he patiently explains the rules of football for the millionth time. It’s the sound of my girls giggling and gossiping from the other room. It’s Mama’s embrace. It’s making a batch of potato soup for Kodecker when she visits or soothing Axl after the vacuum makes its dreaded appearance. Warmth is all around us if we know where to look.
It’s in sensitivity, affection, and connection. And whether it’s through a kind word, a thoughtful gesture, or simply being there for the people I care about, I’ve learned that a warm heart truly does outshine the iciest fingers.
So here’s to all the cold-handed folks out there. May we never stop seeking out the warmth—whether it’s from an old wood stove, a cozy blanket, or the love of the people who make life just a little brighter.
Loved this!