I think I needed to hibernate for a while. Changing rhythms to having a baby again, darkness so early in the evenings, complicated things at church and in the wider family. Now, however, the nights are stretching longer again, and in just a few short days we jump altogether into a whole extra hour. The baby knows me now, wants and needs me, in a way she didn't before. Only daddy and I will do, more often than not now. Her smile is unbeatable, and her unsatiable exploration astonishing.
The weeds are springing up everywhere, and so now my biggest sadness is letting go, once again, of having a garden this year. If I can't even read the newspaper each day, which is relatively important in my opinion as I ought to know something about the community around me if I dare claim the name pastor, well, then, I think the garden will have to wait for another year. I can dream that next year the baby will toddle around the yard, and the older two and I can peruse together the seed catalogs and plan vegetables to spill over onto the table. But this year I'll have to squeeze time in to get to the farmer's stand two cities away, or to market night even though it's on my sabbath eve. This year Lent is too early, and Easter is upon us, and then our church's third sacrament, the rummage sale, then and our season gets too hot too quickly after that for planting in the ground.
So instead I dream this year of planting a schedule that will nourish me, and my time with my partner and children, and my time for writing and creating worship, in the midst of all the other needs around me. Here's to hopeful harvests!