Garden, Motherhood, Reflection

Living my Yes with Focus

It’s been another day of no writing.

Instead it has been a day of listening and observing.

I rotate between garden, motherhood, and reflection. Each demands my attention. Each receives the whole of me. Each pulls forward different aspects of who I have become.

Passionflower, image by Lena McCullough ©

Garden:

My garden seems forever thirsty in its desire to grow. I weed, water, harvest. The tomatoes have reached peak production. Soon they will become one with the earth again. Spring dances upon the lacy wings of the sweet gum leaves, they are the last to bloom this year.

I slowly gather up love as it drips off my fingers. Tiny red balls that taste of Florida sunshine and leak seeds that find their way into my shirt and get stuck between my teeth.

Motherhood:

I hug my children. One has grown taller than me while she was away for five days. She never disappoints.

I linger on the edges of their lives now. A bystander that supports with food or comfort in the tough times. We reach for each other when we remember how much time we spent together as homeschoolers. To them, it’s a relief to be free of home and in school. To me, it feels much the same most of the time. Together we enjoy spring break, where we can reflect on our times, know gratitude for the change.

Sometimes, I worry I didn’t hold them enough, or love them enough, or listen enough, or whatever enough. Then they go and grow taller than me and spread logic in challenging situations and prove they are full of smarts that you never know they have until they need them. After all these realities I head back to the garden, hands in the earth, saying thank you for the stories they share.

Garden:

The earth tends to me as a mother. She is the one that birthed me from my addictions and pain. She is always there to receive my gratitude. To carry my tears of joy or sorrow to their rightful owners. Mostly she just listens, taking it all I give her to the compost bin of love that gathers high upon the roof tops of every life I’ve ever lived. 

Reflections:

The day is done.

I’ve caressed my aches. Witnessed the moment when I chose to stay in the pain, then didn’t. I reach for the belief and trust I have built within, allowing the Spirit of Life to wrap me up in a cocoon of safety.

I will rest upon the blanket of stars I glimpse before bed and drift, knowing that I have loved greatly and in that love I have created as I was guided.