At the end and at the beginning

I'm expecting my due date to come and go this week, leaving behind no baby.
And in this strange, in between place, I am very okay with that.

People keep asking if I'm ready- and then they're surprised when I just shrug. 
Yes, we have a car seat to get baby home in, and a cosleeper for our room. 
Yes, there are a ton of tiny onesies and blankets and diapers all washed and ready to go. 
Yes, there are preachers lined up for every week of my maternity leave, and plans made with friends to soak up the time before there will be a carseat in tow.  
We took amazing pictures to throw business in the direction of an incredibly talented friend, and because it's been a couple years since we had photos done- and to capture some final moments of the two of us before we are a family of three.  

But I don't squee. I look for sales because tiny little things they'll outgrow in a few weeks shouldn't cost that much- and there are too many amazing, pre-loved and pre-worn things in the world already.  I stare in awe at how tiny the little human who will wear those clothes will be.  And I wonder in amazement at how fast a little being has grown to reach such a size from cells nestled in this body:  Proof, if ever I needed it, that we are fearfully and wonderfully made.  

I don't gush. I grouch because I haven't slept more than a couple hours at a time in months, and there is a part of me that knows that there are late nights and early mornings to come.  I will join the legion of those holding the office of the night watch as a daily marker of the rhythm of life and prayer.  

Nursery? Hah! How about the boxes still filling up the rest of the house because we moved 9 weeks ago, at the beginning of the adventure known as the third trimester? Without the hands of friends and family there would be so many more- and making space to invite in more friends and family so that we might share in gratitude and wonder makes more sense for us.  

So much is going to change, and I wish more people were okay with me not gushing about how hard pieces of this giant thing that comes in a tiny bundle are going to be- I wish there were more spaces where the realities of motherhood were spoken of- and embraced.  It's a magical time, yes- but to go without acknowledging that it is joy and pain- a beautiful beginning for our family of three and a bittersweet ending to the earliest chapter of our life together is to somehow reduce this miracle to something commonplace.  And that's not what I want at the end and at the beginning.  

August 1, 2017

In a month, I could be a mom.
Either I will have had this little one, or I will really want to have had this little one.
And I'm realizing that in this last month of our family of 2, there are so many things I still want to do.

Get pictures taken.
Get boxes unpacked.
Go on a real date- like, a nice meal.
Make good habits- have a routine.
Plan November and December's sermons.

And there are so many things- so many lists- of things we HAVE to do.

Find one last maternity leave preacher.
Finish the book for maternity leave.
Buy a carseat/crib mattress/all the things a baby will need right away
(but boy do we have clothes covered!)
Wash the diapers
Freezer prep more meals

And it's exciting, and it's terrifying.

And what I wanted to write down today, so that I remember it tomorrow and for days and weeks and months to come, is that while yes- life will change because of this child, it will not end.  We will go on dates.  We will make good habits- and bad ones too.  We will pack and unpack- we will do tons of laundry.

We will, and then some.

What a difference a year makes

May 2017:

I wrote a garden report about a year ago, and in the last 11 months and change:

I moved around my sewing room, for the umpteenth time.
We put in new beds on the front of the house, purely for the love of flowers.


I completed a whole year of preaching.  And Jon did too- and we got into a groove of being a preaching couple, passing like ships in the night on Sundays, between the insanity of Sunday morning and seeking blissful quiet after days full of people.
I conducted my first full funeral.  And my second.  And my third.
I picked the first zucchini I grew from seeds, and the first butternut.  Both were delicious.

There have been ups and downs, purchases and purges, mountain snowfalls and waves rolling in on the beach.  Thunderstorms have lulled me to sleep... and lately, little nudges from inside have woken me up.

Wonder doesn't begin to describe it- making the choice to be parents... anxiously waiting for a positive test, and finding out something has taken root in me, no bigger than a poppyseed- and that in that tiny thing we could find hope enough for a lifetime.

Hearing an impossibly fast heartbeat, seeing a blob on a screen, watching my body and the blob both change and grow...  Seeing a sweet profile, and seeing my own profile swell and round as winter turned to spring and the promise of new life in the world meant something entirely different- as the hope of ressurection and the breadth of possibilities offered to us by our creator took on new wonder.

This time last year, our lives looked very different- and this time next year, they will be different still- Jon will be serving a new church.  We have three weeks left in this house, with this garden.  And three months left as a family of 2-plus-dog.

I want to write more- to stretch these muscles- and I have said it before, and I'll probably say it again. Time will get away from me again, but maybe not another year.

May Garden Report

Why yes, I DID pretty much spend March and April garden time without a camera.

 But there was much kale, and much seed starting(ALL THE SEEDS!), and more hours of digging out new beds from grass than I care to count.  But we have a new veggie raised bed, a butterfly garden, and we got to surround the trees in the church yard with little beds too.  The photo at right (from early in May) may not look like much, but things have been happening!! The peach trees have both leafed out- no buds though- and it's been so fun to watch all these little things get comparatively HUGE!

We're experiencing the beauty of my grandmother's garden in queen Anne's lace from the same stock as her wedding bouquet, fennel to feed caterpillars, and in coreopsis that the church kids love to pick.  Sunflowers and zinnia seeds have poked their heads up,  and they are going to be beauties come July and August.

We'll continue to enjoy the chard and spinach starts as they grow into the new salad bed I have hiding out in the closest thing I could call shade... And yes, that is another pallet hack, which I will have to actually take a picture of soon.

But May is past, and my oh my, was it delicious. Along with our greens and the first of the carrots that started as seeds, we have gotten to experience the bounty of other gardens.

 The people we are blessed to serve in our little Southern town are generous with the fruits of their gardens, y'all.  We knew that last year when, within a couple of weeks, we had a little it of everything in season, but we are seeing it again with the new goodies of the Spring, and then there's the fact that I haven't had to buy eggs from the store more than 3 or 4 times in 6 months even though we eat a dozen or so a week.  So far this Spring we have enjoyed Vidalia onions, new potatoes, corn and all the yellow squash we can eat.

Did I mention strawberries? It seems the squirrels got most of ours, but Copeland Farms came to the rescue.   As May gives way to June, we have the bounty of green beans coming in, and I'm thinking our zucchini will make its appearance soon.


And a lovely surprise... Our Early Girl Tomatoes came in May's final days with our first taste of summer heat.
However, something else got to enjoy the first tomato before we had a chance.  I wasn't happy, but you know, birds(that's our guess) have to eat, too.  We've had plenty of tomatoes even without the couple bites they stole.
 Summer is stretching out before us in crazy calendars, family vacations, even more tomatoes to come, and what I hope will be a season of enjoying the slowed-down pace and the lullaby of frogs and crickets as we sit out with citronella candles and eat fresh, lovely, local foods from the garden and our grill.

More soon, but if not, you know where to find me.  Playing in the dirt.


SaveSaveSaveSave

Growing

It's the end of springtime- Easter's arrival meant it was really feeling like it- you can't deny the world its celebration and its vibrant colors when we also celebrate a risen Lord, and as the weeks have gone on Spring's vibrant blossoms and buds have begun to give way to the bright sun and bustling gardens that have really taken off.

My grandmother planted things every Good Friday, and I added to my garden in that spirit.  A tomato and a bell pepper joined the ranks alongside the greens on Good Friday.
When I missed her on Mother's day weekend I added sage, thyme, parsley, and another tomato.  I found a strawberry pot like the one we got her for Mother's Day a while back, and I might just pick up the plants to fill it this week, even though it'll be another pot to move and be careful of on our journey South.
 I've started dreaming of next year, when everything won't have to live in containers that have to move, and when I will have a raised bed tucked alongside our little house.  Next year- when there's a yard and a little space for me to start seedlings, when peas and squash and cucumbers join the ranks, and sunflowers and bulbs are in the yard.

Next year.

But... there's joy in my tiny garden, and in my house.  There is something about watching the dog play outside the kitchen window and having the grill right outside the door- something about all of the oddities that made our strange little first house a home.  It's now.  And it won't be next year. It's bittersweet to think about the packing boxes stacking up in the next room, waiting to be filled.

Jon's career means we move in 4 weeks, and God holds something for us in the anticipation of planning and "probably" and "hopefully".  And my vocation becomes more deeply rooted in meeting people where they are, and in the glory God shows us every day in nature- in the great green growing times we have in our sights.

All the things!

We're making a chore chart, doing laundry every day, packing lunches, hitting 6AM spin class... The real schedule has begun. My calendar is getting a workout. We are budgeting time, resources, and making more concrete plans, and it feels... Odd in a way I know will lead to good. Routine is balm for my soul, but the getting there is always a little interesting.  Figuring out a chore chart that didn't make me pull my hair out is a topic for another post.  Meal planning is still a work in progress, but I suspect it'll get easier as I continue to work at it.

I had the day(s) of lectures you get when you start work in a healthcare field this week, where it seemed like the moral of the story is be nice and wash your hands. I knitted a lot, learned some, and am anticipating the next few weeks when more learning through the work of chaplaincy begins. Our boss gave us our official blue chaplain ribbons that attach to our official hospital nametags so that we are easily pegged.  We got keys to our office, and a tour of the hospital.  We went to visit patients with the residents... learned the mechanics of charting.  It's pretty great. Did I mention we have an office, and that it used to be a nun's bedroom??

Wearing a name badge and having a purpose outside of the little house we are making into a home and this new, strange role of wife is pretty great. And I'm only one week in.

Life After School

I still can't believe, that for the first time in my life, my primary occupation is something other than that of "student". When I filled out camp forms late in the Spring, with graduation looming, out of habit the occupation line read 'student' in my hurried scrawl, but I knew by the time camp rolled around it would change to 'barista'. Or 'nanny'. Or 'writer'. Depending upon the day.

Crazy. 

I don't regret the choice at all, as a matter of fact I relish the idea of, for likely the only time in my life, a job where I clock out and am off the clock in being a barista.  I love the kids I care for.  And in my writing and in the combination of all of these things, I have a chance to figure out what it is to be an adult.  

I have a chance to pursue my passions for writing and creating and it is exactly what the doctor ordered, especially coupled with the fact that there are facets in which I will be able to nurture people and be pastor, too, without it as a job title: I slowly discover the truth in the words of a mentor that, no matter where I am, God will have me living out my call. 

Above all, I am thrilled beyond measure that I get to re-discover and discover with greater depth God's awesomeness in my adventures this year, and God's hand in who I am and who I'm becoming... In the art coming from my heart and soul, in the movement and stillness, in the flurry of emotions that will surely beset me in the coming months. 

And God's pull toward my purpose is a strong one, and one I seek to follow more closely every day. This is a great journey, which, though it is a very figurative one in this moment, will hopefully (prayerfully, passionately, excitedly) become a very literal one in the coming months. 

I'm blessed to have the chance.