Ramblings
Walking in the morning is so good for me in so many ways. It's a time to breathe deep and a time to pray. A time to think and a time to just move too.
This morning, though, I was frustrated. It was like I was trying and expecting to hear and smell the wet summer morning as I remembered it from a year ago , yet every time I listened, or breathed all I could smell was wet asphalt, and exhaust and the noise of cars and distant machinery was a unwelcome accompaniment to the birdsong and dripping leaves.
Then I caught it -- the scent of honeysuckle, sweet and fresh in my nose as I passed a hedge, there one breath and gone the next. And I felt the tears sting my eyes as memories came. I thought of the hedges of honeysuckle and wild roses at home, of the raspberries swelling and ripening there, of other wet summer mornings long gone that I miss so much.
These days its hard to console myself with the lie that we are really going "home" someday soon, when I know its not true any more. These days its hard to see little reminders of what I've lost and not feel bitter. These days, as the little one grows in my womb, I think of a year ago when I stubbornly put all the little baby clothes in storage back home, vowing and hoping not to bring a baby home to a house that wasn't ours, to a city that I didn't love, to a life I didn't want. Because, after all, we would only be here for a short time. . .
And now, a year later, here I am. The baby will come home to this house I don't love, and this life that can be so oppressive at times. This house will forever be the rosy first home of the new little one to join us. And so against what I thought I wanted, this home and this time will be welded to my soul forever by the sweetness and the arrival of this baby.
My heart doesn't know what it thinks of this still, as it clings stubbornly to thoughts of other babies in another, more-loved home, but my head tells me that this can only be a good thing. I choose to trust in God, that everything is just as it should be.
This morning, though, I was frustrated. It was like I was trying and expecting to hear and smell the wet summer morning as I remembered it from a year ago , yet every time I listened, or breathed all I could smell was wet asphalt, and exhaust and the noise of cars and distant machinery was a unwelcome accompaniment to the birdsong and dripping leaves.
Then I caught it -- the scent of honeysuckle, sweet and fresh in my nose as I passed a hedge, there one breath and gone the next. And I felt the tears sting my eyes as memories came. I thought of the hedges of honeysuckle and wild roses at home, of the raspberries swelling and ripening there, of other wet summer mornings long gone that I miss so much.
These days its hard to console myself with the lie that we are really going "home" someday soon, when I know its not true any more. These days its hard to see little reminders of what I've lost and not feel bitter. These days, as the little one grows in my womb, I think of a year ago when I stubbornly put all the little baby clothes in storage back home, vowing and hoping not to bring a baby home to a house that wasn't ours, to a city that I didn't love, to a life I didn't want. Because, after all, we would only be here for a short time. . .
And now, a year later, here I am. The baby will come home to this house I don't love, and this life that can be so oppressive at times. This house will forever be the rosy first home of the new little one to join us. And so against what I thought I wanted, this home and this time will be welded to my soul forever by the sweetness and the arrival of this baby.
My heart doesn't know what it thinks of this still, as it clings stubbornly to thoughts of other babies in another, more-loved home, but my head tells me that this can only be a good thing. I choose to trust in God, that everything is just as it should be.
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