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!
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6 comments:
Do you have any idea how long it took before her mommy would have been willing to do the same trip? I think you were probably four before you spent time alone at Britta's house! Yay for LW. Seems to me she's moving along at a pretty rapid pace in so many, many ways.
I know this has been a hard year for you, it's been a rough one for me too, in large part because mothers hate to see their kids suffer, and in part because part of my physical healing process is simply downright painful (to say nothing of expensive!). It does help, however, to be able to see the gifts in the middle of the pain. In my life that means that when I'm lying on the massage bed with electrodes pumping painful shocks into my back that it gives me time to pray a decade or so of the Rosary for someone who needs it because I can't be doing anything else (like reading a book, knitting, or doing something on the computer) with that time. Hence, I've gotten a lot more praying in this Lent.
We will all miss the presence of baby Julian in our lives (what a lovely name by the way). However, we are so grateful for all of you and the graces that you bring to our lives. Spontaneous kisses from a two year old are a most precious gift.
Thanks for being patient with your father. He really does intend to do the stuff in your kitchen, it's just been a tough month for him with the taxes, and estate stuff (those condo people have been a real pain again recently).
Oh, and as far as houses are concerned, there are lots of days when I think I'd rather live in your smaller one with only minor things that need redoing, instead of in my bigger and very, very unfinished one. I struggle at least weekly with the fact that I'm still staring at insulation and that the stairs that I've fallen on twice(with serious consequences both times) because of the lack of railings still don't have railings. Learning contentment is the lesson of a lifetime apparently.
A blessed St. Patrick's Day to you as well. You can even rejoice that you aren't here to celebrate it because we're having corned beef and cabbage, and I know how you feel about corned beef!
I don't really mean to be complaining about our house. There are good things about it as well. I just was trying to say that even when you've got a lot to be thankful for there will always be things that seem to upset your state of contentment. Most of the time I can ignore insulation and lack of railings. When I'm in a foul mood they may well be all I see.
I hear you on a lot of those notes.... just a couple of thoughts...
First, I was also the shy little girl, when I was small (just ask my mom!), and always the last one to do things - ride my bike, go somewhere without mommy.... and look what happened. LOL. Some of us just take longer than others to "bloom". :-)
I'd love to sit an talk container gardening with you sometime... I have no yard to speak of, but I do love some fresh veggies (and that'd save $$!)...
but, I really do get you, lady, on the always feeling like yo're being thwarted.. I've been (and am) there. But you make a good point, it is often about seeing the benefit in what you have, and knowing that there must be a grand plan behind it all... (for instance, my losing my job last year, turned out to be a fabulous thing. it left me open to find a job that supports my apartment alone, and pays the bills, while being a better atmosphere! who would've thought that, the day I walked home in tears, when they let me go?)
AND, your little family will have to come to my humble abode for dinner some weekend... it is also tiny, without the luxury of a washer/dryer, or a big kitchen, or full size stove (!!!)... but I call it home, and am happy to have it. :-) My door is alwyas open, and I miss you guys!!
You're wise not to push your daughter too much (and at the tender age of three!) to be a social butterfly. She needs to figure it all out on her time time scale. And it sounds like she's taking the first steps.
Also, having the "social butterfly" child comes with it's own challenges.
My youngest was the most antisocial child ever--in preschool all the other girls would be playing together, and she would be off by herself doing her own thing, and SHE DIDN'T CARE. But a couple weeks into kindergarten I started to get phone calls from other moms who wanted to set up play dates with her because their kids really wanted to play with her. Who knew?
When my very shy daughter became a little older we always kidded that all you had to do was put her in with a group of new people and in 30 minutes she'd found a new friend. Let them spread their wings when they're ready to and they do just fine.
I hadn't checked your blog in a while, so I thought I'd stop by.
I'm so very sorry to hear about your miscarriage. That is really tough. :(. I hope you are giving yourself plenty of time to heal.
I was also very shy as a little girl and I'm so glad my parents never pushed me to be someone I wasn't. It sounds like you have a great attitude and LW is lucky to have you for her mama :)
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