Spring’s here, finally. Winter stayed past its welcome, but the tree outside our house budded anyway, defying day after day of snow and gray skies. It’s not pretty yet, but the grass is greening and those buds are promises hanging from the branch, ready to pop. I open the windows even though it’s still cold. I need to inhale spring, to close my eyes and remembering how sunshine feels on skin.
Everything’s ready to bloom, but I’m thinking about falling.
We love living in this community. There’s a lot of love growing in this place, and it often feels like we are smack-dab in the middle of it. As a mom, the fastest way to my heart is to sincerely love my kids, and I didn’t know so many people could fit in there.
There’s the friend who sent us this, back when my daughter’s tiny heart was just a flutter, back when only a handful of people knew she existed. Already in the heart of God, oh yes. What a sweet reminder.
There are the friends who brought meals and encouragement and rocking arms for a baby who was nicknamed “cry-cry” (and this new mother could’ve shared that title.)
The friend who helped us plan financially for our first child, teaching us one-on-one in her kitchen, my nauseous self nibbling my way to debtless one cracker at a time.
The friend who came over and taught me her couponing system, bouncing my little girl on her hip as she talked.
The friends who knit blankets, prayers stitched into the fibers that my kids snuggle even today, still covered by love and yarn and prayers.
When I got sick with baby number two, the friend who rushed over with a hospital-grade thermometer and swept my one-year-old off to the zoo.
The friends who, when my husband traveled out of town and my Caesarean stitches were not yet healed, stopped by to lift my toddler out of the crib each morning. And put her in at nap time. And lift her out when she woke in the afternoon. And back again at bedtime.
The friend who offered, instead of a meal, to clean my bathroom, Christ-hands scrubbing my grout.
Everything’s ready to bloom here, but I’m thinking about falling. They’re tied together, newness and birth and falling under the weight of it all. Falling, and being caught.
I think of those trust-falls that groups do for teambuilding, where one person stands with their hands across their chest and falls backwards into the arms of everyone else. When I was overtired and post-surgical and sick and falling, so many arms caught me.
When I think of that catching time, my hands still go to my heart.
My list above is from just one season of many we’ve lived here, and they’ve all brought blessings like sunshine. We can breathe deeply here. Extend our roots deeply. Fall a little more deeply each day.