The splash and clanging noises coming from the kitchen sound slightly suspicious.
I’m trying to nap during this precious window of time
when my busy little Tirzah is in slumberland.
The little one growing inside me takes energy too,
and I’m trying to be wise and take a rest when I can.
But I lie here, my mind turning gears in countless directions.
The cold frame outside finally got some of my time today,
little seeds pushed under the soil and watered.
I made a list of the seeds I need to buy to fill in the blanks.
I closed my eyes and could see the beautiful rows of green,
and the mouth-watering taste of a warm tomato fresh from the garden
with a touch of sea salt. I shut the cold frame lid and brushed the dirt off my hands.
I hear the bathroom light get switched on.
The kitchen is silent as my five year old takes a recess.
I wonder how soon I will need to remind him to get back to those soaking dishes.
The water is very cold now.
I glance at the paper next to my bed, with the lists of seeds I need to buy.
And plant shoots I need to get from my mother in law.
She is the ultimate gardening resource, and each year I hope I am becoming more like her.
More in love with this dirt that God made, and the process of bringing life out of it.
This love of learning.
This year will be a busy one. It already has.
I don’t even want to repeat the delightful yet exhausting schedule of events
we have had in the last two months.
But there will be a baby this year, and a garden,
beginning preschool with Weston and new time commitments for Daniel
as he will be working more with the church. Exciting but taxing responsibilities.
Lately, I’ve wanted to roll over and just go back to sleep.
And I’ve needed some of it.
I haven’t written, cause in the midst of all the great and good,
I’ve needed a bit of silence.
A bit of God pouring into my tired heart.
But now I’m glorying in the sunshine and warmth
and a moment to catch my breath and think.
Weston comes with his raisined fingers, “Can I take a little break?”
I smile and shake my head, and explain that there really are only a few more dishes,
and he may gave a LONG break once the job is done.
There is noise at the sink again.
I look at my heart, and see how it too has been raisiny and tired of the constant tasks.
It’s not over, this wearying in life. The strain of the unseen, the taxing of motherhood.
Of learning to juggle life stresses and still laugh in the breeze
and catch the glint in the sunshine and warm my soul.
But God gives grace for times like these.
He understands the weary heart, but doesn’t leave it there.
He calls us from glory unto glory.
Each a little more like him and a little less like myself.
So today I’m dreaming.
Of gardens, and guiding children’s hearts, and letting God dig deep furrows in my own…
I’m not getting my nap, which doesn’t matter so much now.
Cause I see that Spring is coming.
And God is going to breathe the hope and life into each day,
just as I need it.