Signs of Grace

"And a certain sign of grace is this / from broken earth flowers come up / pushing through the dirt" - David Crowder Band

One of the joys that I most looked forward to, when I knew we were finally going to buy our own house, was planting some good old fashioned perennial flowers.  It never made sense to plant bulbs in the fall when we were renting, because we never knew for sure if we'd be there in the spring to see them (OK, maybe that's a lousy attitude - after all, they would have blessed *someone*, but anyway, we wanted to see them come up as well as go into the ground).  So last fall, I eagerly selected, ordered, and planted tulip, crocus, and daffodil bulbs.  Most went in our flower bed at the front of our house, but on a whim, I also put about 10 extra daffodil bulbs around a tree in the backyard. 

What I didn't know was that squirrels really like bulbs.  They didn't go after the ones in the flower bed, which were covered in cedar mulch (maybe they couldn't smell them?) but the very next day, the daffodil bulbs around the tree were dug out and laying on the ground.  Naively, I tucked them back in... and the next day, they were gone entirely.  I searched the holes, I searched the surrounding ground and our yard - nothing.  Not a bulb to be found.  Obviously, I wasn't pleased at this news, and all winter, whenever I'd mention the bulbs, I would also mention those "stupid squirrels," and how next year I'd need to plant things under chicken wire to keep the predators at bay.

On the last day of January, I was excited to see one little tiny crocus shoot push through in the flower bed.  At the same time, I wanted to say, "too soon!  go back!" but I guess it knew what it was about, because it's not like we got much snow the rest of the winter.

The month of February, my mind was occupied with other things.  I was sad, I was distracted, and I didn't pay much attention to the flowers.

And now?  We have baby plants, with the promise of flowers soon to come:

Crocuses:

Tulips:



Daffodils:



And, more daffodils:

That's right.  Those were my "lost bulbs".  The squirrels didn't get them after all - just buried them better.  What I thought was lost and gone for good, is blooming right in my backyard.  It feels like a reminder, a sign, a sacramental of sorts, at a moment mid-Lent when I was really needing just such a "touch" from above.  As such, while I'm enjoying my front yard flowers, those back yard ones are holding a special spot in my heart.

Because, you see, it hasn't been an easy year.  Not just the miscarriage, but it has seemed quite overwhelmingly like my every desire and plan and goal has been untimely thwarted.  From big things, like our hopes for a September baby (I can't help but remember daily how far along I would have been at this point - for example, I likely would have been feeling little Julian move by this week), to silly little ones like wanting to secure a community garden spot for the year, or wanting our kitchen floor done by my birthday.  Every time I start to think I've got something to hold on to, a goal, a future to set my sights on, no matter how small, it disappears, and I'm brought up short again.

The thing is, I'm beginning to see the reason behind the pattern.  It's all about hope, and faith, and having my sights set on the right thing.  About contentment with the things I have, and making do, patience, and perseverance.  Finding hope and sufficiency in what does come my way, instead of what I want...

Learning to be a shoot in our Father's hands, growing through the dirt, towards His light, and not my own.

And so, I take great joy in waiting and watching as He makes the flowers bloom.  I miss the hope of a soon-to-be born baby, but take comfort in the daughter I already have.  I'm also finding myself thankful that, while it's not what I would have wished or preferred, we've had the chance to transition her to her own bed at night *without* a looming deadline or anxiety on my part. 

As for the garden, well, there are many ways to the same end.  Getting wait-listed for the community garden has meant that I've started researching container gardening, raised bed gardening, and refining my goals and desires for what to grow this year (if you're wondering why we're not just going to garden in the same plot we tilled last year, we're planning to plant evergreens there, to shield our yard from a winter-long view of Big Lots, and also to help block the thicket of poison ivy from continuing to encroach on our land).  In other words, being forced to take a step back may turn into a blessing of its own.

It's a lesson I feel forced to learn again and again, especially in this whole home-ownership business, but it's a valuable lesson for a parent,  or spouse, or frankly anyone growing in faith, to learn: to work with the reality of what IS, rather than constantly pining after what you would have BE.  Sure, I'd love a 2500 sq foot house, with flowing, open, separate living/dining/kitchen spaces, tiled ample baths, and a laundry room (oh, and several acres of land).  What I have instead is a 1300 sq foot house with a 12 by 12 kitchen and no dining room (nor, if you're wondering, do we have tiled baths or a laundry room.  We have a truly tiny full bath, and a half bath that was built into what was originally a closet, and a basement to do laundry in).  But, we're learning to work with the space, and embrace what makes it best rather than trying to cram ideas from our vision of "the perfect home" into a space that frankly can't accommodate them.  Same with the yard; same with the limited hours of my life; and same with the people in that life, whether spouse, child, or extended family.  My daughter is shy, and she's not going to be the extroverted little girl across the road anytime soon.  But yesterday, she willingly chose to go across the street with my neighbor, by herself, (without me!) for about a half an hour, which is an epic milestone in her life.  If I insisted on her being exactly what society would have her be (or what I myself might have her be), I'd be disappointed at how she still "fell short".  But by seeing her as she really is, I can rejoice and enjoy the little successes, and the slow blossoming of who she is meant to be.  And, by truly accepting and learning to work with instead of against the limitations of my life, I'm a much happier person: not futilely straining against mountains that I can't move, but flowing along like a river between them.

So that's where I'm at, this Lent.  Learning persistence, faith, hope, and contentment.  I'm not sure why we can't ever learn these things except for "the hard way"... I guess outside of Eden, the hard way was the only way left.

A blessed St. Patrick's day to all!

Catching up...

I thought I was so busy, back when I had a newborn in the house, but still, somehow, I found time to write.  Once that newborn was a two-year-old, though, it seemed like life, which had been in some ways "standing still" for a time, just took wings.  I can't say for certain that I've been "busier" in any real sense of the word; we still only leave home a couple of times a week for any real meetings or errands or visits (if that), I still work the same 15 hours a week for the same company, we still spend our days with books and toys and games, but life just feels faster.  Perhaps because I've been spending more time just living life, and less time documenting it... or perhaps because toddlers only nap, say, an hour or two a day, vs the four or so hours of total nap time she had when she was under a year.  Regardless, my writing time has been seriously curtailed - I don't know how moms of many littles manage it!

Anyway, I'm back, for now.  I can't promise how regularly I'll be able to "stop in," but hopefully more often than once every six months!

As for specific things that have kept me busy since I last had time or energy or the will to write: I'll share in a few bullet points, and then hope and pray to find the time later to expand on all of these elements.

1) Halloween:  you may or may not celebrate it (I know people in both camps), but I grew up with a dad who was very into the whole pumpkin carving, handing out candy, trick or treating thing, and we were excited for the first year that it made sense to take LW out.  We just went up and down our street - to less than 10 houses - but she had a blast, especially eating the candy once we were home, and my husband and I (true children of the eighties) got a huge kick out of dressing her up as Princess Leia, complete with the "cinnamon bun" hairstyle:

When your two-year-old has the hair of a six-year-old (seriously, it's already down to her waist!), and you take care of that hair on a regular basis, I believe that it is well within your right as a parent to occasionally pin it up in ways that she may not yet understand the point of :)

2) Autumn, and then winter, and Christmas, were lovely.  We've had a curiously snow-less winter in VT: quite seriously, I don't think we've had a single snowstorm with more than a foot of snow, and I can only remember three storms that dropped around six inches.  For most of the winter the ground was bare, and I noticed my crocus buds just beginning to peak through on Jan 31.  Which is kind of ridiculous, and fortunately they've had the good sense to not do much more than that yet.  They are currently covered with about three inches of white stuff that fell two days ago and will likely be gone again in a week.  The skiers and snowboarders (and seasonal tourist businesses) are mourning such a winter, but in truth, I've loved it.  I only enjoy snow for a few weeks anyway, so I haven't minded the lack, and we got enough last winter (here's a photo of our car in our driveway at our old apartment last February):  yes, the snowbanks were quite literally taller than the car)

that I'm actually secretly rejoicing at a winter relatively free of the stuff.  Of course, after saying that, we'll probably get a whole winter worth of accumulation during the months of March, April, and May...

Fortunately, my daughter did get one chance, during the first real "storm" of the year, to build a snowman:

and that's pretty much the only snow event I cared to take part in this year, anyway.

3) Christmas with a two and a half year old, who was finally a little bit cognizant of what the holiday was and could be about, was truly fabulous.  She was so excited about everything - from getting the tree, to the nativity, to presents and visits with family - and it helped us get excited again, too.  Plus, it was our first Christmas in our house, which made it extra special.  Here's a picture of LW and I, right before Christmas Eve Mass, with our extra-lovely tree in the background:

4) LW's "big present" for Christmas was a whole bunch of handmade felt food (I went a little crazy making them, but it was just so much fun!), and a re-purposed entertainment center turned into a mini fridge.  That is all a post for another day, but here's just a teaser of what the fridge looks like (disregard scary basement chaos in the background):

The fridge transformation, plus the felt food, plus lots of other "handmades" for Christmas gifts, kept me very busy during the months of November and December.

5) New Year's day brought some very exciting news: I took a test, and discovered that we were expecting an addition to the family.  A month of highs and lows followed, as we alternately rejoiced over the happy news, and stressed over what this would mean for LW, nursing, co-sleeping, my job, our financial situation, etc.  Sadly, all those fears were resolved in the most disappointing way of all: not by walking through them and seeing how they would all amount to nothing, but by learning on Feb 3 that our baby's heartbeat, seen only a week before, had already stopped.  Fortunately, the news wasn't a complete surprise, since I'd had suspicions from the beginning, having not felt as sick, or tired, as I did with LW

However, there have been some bright spots even so.  An old friendship, lying relatively dormant for years, re-bloomed in the midst of this sadness.  The kindness of some family and friends, even flowers from my very secular workplace, made me feel loved and uplifted.  And reading, meditating, realizing that our second little baby, who will never be forgotten, is now interceding for us, in a very special way, in heaven: little Julian Alexis, named for Blessed Julian of Norwich ("all shall be well, and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.”) and for St. Alexis, a name which put together means "youthful defender".  I've come to strongly realize in the past few weeks exactly what it means to have such an intercessor in heaven - and how clear it has become already that he/she (we won't know our baby's gender for sure till heaven, and I didn't have a strong feeling either way, so we chose a name that could fit either a him or a her) is cheering us on, longing even more than us for our family to eventually be all together.

6) And that brings us to now, and to Lent.  For obvious reasons, I didn't feel very much like having to go through Lent this year.  Inside, I was rebelling: "haven't I suffered, lost, sacrificed enough already! I don't need this right now," and having to fast on Ash Wednesday, when I would have been around 12 weeks pregnant and happily "exempt," felt like another kick in the teeth.  (Of course, I DO still have a nursling, and I actually plan to take it easy on Good Friday because even though LW "doesn't nurse that much" anymore, she still actually probably nurses 4-5 times a day and a goodly bit at night, and I noticed my milk supply TANK on Ash Wednesday and the day after - a good sign that my body does still need nourishment to in turn nourish her).  But as I try to turn my will back to God, and realize that maybe we need Lent most when we feel like we need it least, or when we want it least... I begin to see the ways in which He is trying to shape my heart during this season.  To see what is important and what is not; to realize that I am "dust, and to dust will return," and to hear in those words that dust becomes so much more than dust when it is breathed into and animated by His Spirit; to learn that carrying our crosses means holding them close, and walking after Him even when life is hard.  It is hard medicine, but then again, Lent always is.

So - that is where I (and we) are at these days.  It is not the year I had planned in my mind; I still can't believe that I'm slipping back into my skinny jeans, not pulling out the maternity wardrobe; that I won't be hugely pregnant mid-summer; that sushi and sandwich meat are once again fair game.  What hit home the most a few nights ago was realizing that LW's birth left visible marks on my body - stretch marks that will never go away, whereas Julian's existence (for she/he still exists, and as L'Engle said, "every life is noted and cherished, / And nothing loved is ever lost or perished") has left "stretch marks" only on my heart and soul.  Before we knew I was pregnant, and then even after, I thought about how I would mourn the loss of our perfect three-some family; when I knew that I was miscarrying, some part of me thought we'd just go back to the same as before, but I now know there is no going back.  We aren't a triangle anymore, even though it still looks like it in the world's eyes.   Somewhere, safe in God's arms, is a child who is known and Named by Him...

Not the year I would have planned, but the year He planned, instead.  So be it.  We'll see where else the year takes us.

On a lighter note: stay tuned (though don't hold your breath) for, hopefully, posts on my toddler fridge project, our slowly progressing house improvements, and other sundries.  Until then - a blessed Lent to all - and please pray for us.