Sunday, June 30, 2013

A Garden is Good For The Soul

My totally repurposed fence. It needs a coat of paint and some lovely flowers yet.

Tiny canteloupe!

And tiny watermelon. It's the size of my big toe.


A hint of a cucumber

E's popcorn. Lots and lots of popcorn.

The bunnies have been brutal on our runner beans, but this vine managed to escape them,
and it's all the way to the top of the teepee now.

Tiny green tomatoes. Yum.

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Divergent Thoughts

I'm straying away from my normal blog fare for now. Don't worry, I'll be back on track soon, but right now life is serving up lessons by the bucketful. As I indicated in my previous post (A Big Big Love), my life has been turned pretty well on its head the past month. I've had to make some tough choices, and examine my life path in a new way. Thankfully, I have an army of lovefamily who support and encourage and inspire me. I'm handing out as much love as I can muster, and offering up as much compassion as I can find.

I've found I'm committed in a way I never imagined. My truth is this: When you make a commitment to a person, especially one you love, or have loved, you do everything you can to honor that commitment, as long as you are honoring yourself as well. This may mean swallowing your pride, doling out forgiveness in many directions, or simply learning to quiet your mind and follow your heart. It may mean the going is very tough for a while, but the opportunity to reclaim what you once had is the prize at the end of the tough run.

I'm starting to see love for what it is. Love is not constant, it is not effortless. It ebbs and flows, and is a tidal wave just when you need it. It can seem to be nearly gone, and suddenly crash in on you. It grows when you tend it, and withers when you neglect it.

My final thought for the day is about closure. I've had several life-altering events in my life, and I would often go scrambling for closure, chasing it down, not waiting. Inevitably, time would pass, and my closure would start to seem less like closure, and I'd have to start the process over. I've now learned that forced closure is often not closure at all, but simply a cork in a bottle of emotion that will ferment and fester and explode without warning. When I was devastated by the events surrounding my son's birth, I made a choice to sit back and wait for the peace to overtake me. It took a long time. I was wounded and sad for what seemed like eons, and I was frustrated because I couldn't seem to get over it. But then, slowly, I started to climb up the other side of the pit of despair. And that closure felt comfortable and right and easy to bear. Closure is a funny thing. It comes in strange ways, and sometimes you don't see it until later. But you certainly can't force it.

Thursday, June 20, 2013

A Big Big Love

Sometimes I think I have "it" mostly figured out. I am, after all, over 30. I'm a mama and a partner. A homemaker, a little bit of a farm girl. It seems like my ducks are mostly in a row.

But just when I start to settle into that feeling, the Earth moves. Giant chunks of life start falling away, exposing that tender meat underneath. I feel like I'm standing on the edge of the cliff, and the rocks are crumbling under my toes and echoing down the canyon.

I've learned more about life, myself, and my family in the past two weeks than I ever would have thought possible. Those truths that I always took for granted are gone. Those securities I always felt are replaced by ugly little fears.

I've learned that I am stronger than I ever expected. I love BIGGER and more completely than I ever thought possible. I have more capacity for tolerance, forgiveness, patience, and honesty than I knew. I'm proud of myself.

My past, like most others', leaves my calendar with a few D-days, and now there's another. There's hurt and anger and frustration and lack of understanding, but there's also a LOVE that seems to dwarf all those other things.

I don't know if love can truly overcome all things, but in my life right now, it's doing a damn good job. There's a long road to recovery, and the best I can do is pave it with love and openness, and hope those things make it smooth enough for comfortable travel.