But, this Spring, has been a Spring of suddenlies for Chicagoland. At least in nature. We had a week of 80 degree days in early March. The trees bloomed three months early. The lilac bush in our front yard (which I blogged about last MAY) had a 1/8 bloom experience and jumped straight to leaves.
I was hoping my own pregnancy would bloom and bud soon, too! I almost assumed that it would.
While I waited for my own suddenly (water breaking, contractions settling in at midnight), I quickly consumed my favorite things about this Spring:
Artichokes (steamed with drawn lemon butter for dipping)...
And... my own growth...
I must admit that now, in late April, I feel I've been tricked, that my own own suddenly Spring has been foiled. I thought the birth would parallel with Chicago's season (early). I've never wanted a suddenly so badly. Once that April 18th due date came and went and the doctor suggested a scheduled induction for the 26th, I've been ravenous for breakthrough to the next stage.
It reminds me of a very practical application of one of my favorite quotes by Anais Nin.
"Then the time came when the risk it took to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."
The last time I was in line with this quote was when God was encouraging me to move forward, to take risks to be the real me, to shed off the old and become new five or six years ago. This time, it's different. I don't have any control over this blossoming... this waiting.
And I've found that waiting is... PAINFUL! Beautiful and painful. I've realized that my Spring, this season for our family, is a long beautiful patient and contemplative Spring. Different than the fast and furious Chicagoland one. My Spring is a slow one- my buds are taking their time to bloom, my sun is peaking and hiding multiple times an afternoon, my wind is engaging young branches to sway like a dance of thoughts and then still again... waiting. All waiting. God (are you surprised?) has shown up in the waiting for me, making it beautiful even in the line of my disappointed and impatient gaze.
We'll be here... waiting hips, waiting arms, waiting ... nursery! [Which I can't wait to show you... once the boy is here.] Please Lord, let him come suddenly (and healthily)... today.
Share some tips about what you did to pass the time when waiting consumed you. What helped you to stay centered and positive?
May you have eyes to see the beauty. --Meg Tess
