Creekside Garden

Have you ever walked through a season of life that changed everything about you? I am in the middle of one of those seasons.

As my body STRETCHES to its limits these last few weeks of pregnancy everyone can see the physical changes, but there are many hidden things shaped by the experience. My body becomes almost unrecognizable, my family experiences growing pains, and my faith is tested by circumstances out of my control. I don’t feel remotely the same as I was a year ago.

As I read through my old blog posts I miss the girl who delighted in the sound of water and the way the sunshine draped itself across the mountains. I miss romanticizing dirt and weather.

That girl feels a like a lifetime ago. I know she is still there… just buried underneath life, waiting for a chance to bloom again. She just needs to figure out what is up and down again.

Right now I don’t notice the glimpses of beauty around me, I honestly avoid going outside whenever possible. It just doesn’t feel like home out there right now.

I had to leave my garden right before it peaked last August. I harvested my precious potatoes and immediately was disgusted by them and all other food under the sun. Herbs I dried sit in dusty jars. I wonder if the daffodils will bloom for strangers who have no clue about that October day Caleb and I planted them.

I never harvested a single tomato.

One bundle of straw flowers hang by the window in our bedroom, bringing as much color and joy as they did at our old house. Beckoning me to not give up on gardening, reminding me that someday I will grow beautiful things again.

I had to leave my cats, Birdie and Goose, they were nowhere to be found when we were moving and I was physically too weak to hunt them down. I trusted that they would be happy barn cats and guiltily left them behind.

The girl who planted gardens barefoot and wrote paragraphs about beauty is grieving and not sure what is next. She will be back, older and wiser, but we have to be patient and wait for her to heal.

Physically that girl has since walked through the hardest season of her life. Throwing up many times a day and keeping a toddler alive while trying to settle into a house that was old and dirty and completely isolated. She was scared of the water coming through old pipes, scared of the air in a crusty old house, and scared of losing an active toddler outside. At one point she was too weak to walk across the driveway, running across the yard to stop her baby from climbing in with the horses felt like a marathon. That girl watched as an overabundance of perfect apples piled up in the yard and she didn’t have the energy to save a single one for winter pie making. She experienced melting away until there was nothing left but skin, bones, and tears. And a second tiny heartbeat tucked away, safe in her womb.

That girl lost her garden, her home, and her body. All within weeks and without any warning. No wonder I haven’t seen her in months.

I miss her, but I wouldn’t change who I’ve become.

The starry eyed girl stayed at our old house, dreaming and gardening. Now the woman she longed to become is slowly taking shape. She has a long long way to go, but hardship has cut the fluff and something of sustenance is growing.

The pain, the sickness, the crazy circumstances have given me a sturdiness I never had before. I’ve learned that even when things are hard, it won’t always be that way. I’ve learned that I’m tougher than I thought and I can survive suffering. Eventually the nausea faded, food tasted good again, and my body slowly grew stronger. The world didn’t sparkle like it once did, but I was able to get out of bed and not throw up – which felt like a miracle.

Once I had energy again, this crusty old house demanded attention. I couldn’t ignore the dirt and garbage. (Literal garbage from the last tenants of this house). It insisted the dreamy girl grew up and learned the discipline of housekeeping. I am still a beginner, but I feel ten times more confident than I ever have in my ability to keep a home.

I’ve learned that in structuring and being disciplined in one area of life spills over and creates order throughout the home. Clean sheets every Monday suddenly turned into a laundry system for the rest of the house. Meal planning suddenly eliminates stress at dinnertime and lots of nourishing food my family loves (most of the time…. having a two year old means picky eating is now a thing). Returning to minimalism has quieted the house and made it a home, while also making it easy to keep organized.

I may not be ankle deep in fertile soil while planting flowers, but now folding a basket of laundry brings me more joy than I ever thought possible. It’s simply a different type of gardening, cultivating habits and systems that will bear fruit and beauty for the rest of my life.

As a teenager I used to pray this one line: “Lord, shape me, mold me, make me who you want me to be.”

God has continued to answer that prayer. Painfully, slowly, faithfully He hasn’t let me grow stagnate but continues to stir up my life and stretch me… to make me the woman He wants me to be. He has allowed circumstances into my life to chip away at things and change me.

Right now that woman is tired, sore, and has fresh stretch marks. She looks back at the sweet carefree girl who was left behind with kindness and sorrow, but she wouldn’t trade her suffering to go back to who she once was. The suffering brought more value than a million perfect zinnias.

I will find the romance of life again. The grief will pass and God will bring healing. I’m holding onto hope for life to be beautiful again.

How can it not be beautiful again?

In just a few weeks we will welcome a newborn baby boy into the family. I can’t wait to meet him!