40 weeks, 7 days

attitude

“The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, the education, the money, than circumstances, than failure, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company... a church... a home. The remarkable thing is we have a choice everyday regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past... we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude. I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% of how I react to it. And so it is with you... we are in charge of our Attitudes.” (chuck swindoll)

the wish to be generous

ALL that I serve will die, all my delights,
the flesh kindled from my flesh, garden and field,
the silent lilies standing in the woods,
the woods, the hill, the whole earth, all
will burn in man's evil, or dwindle
in its own age. Let the world bring on me
the sleep of darkness without stars, so I may know
my little light taken from me into the seed
of the beginning and the end, so I may bow
to mystery, and take my stand on the earth
like a tree in a field, passing without haste
or regret toward what will be, my life
a patient willing descent into the grass.

-wendell berry-

39 weeks, 6 days.

dear ruby,

are you waiting for me to mop the floors before you'll come? i know i promised mopped floors, but i keep forgetting or just don't feel like it once everyone is in bed for the night. the house is clean, we've got lots of food around, the birth pool is in the kitchen if we decide we want to use it, & i love you. we love you & can't wait to see your beautiful face! & fingers & toes & bellies, too.

love always,
mama

waiting.

Waiting

Dear Baby, here beneath my heart,
I thought that you might come today;
The timing seemed just right.

But the stars are out
And the moon is high
And sheepishly I wonder why
I try to arrange the plans
Of God.

For now I know
You will not come
Until the One who holds eternity
Rustles your soft cocoon
And whispers in tones that I will not hear,
“It’s time, precious gift.”

“Now it’s time.”

-by Robin Jones Gunn




:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

i did not think ruby was coming tonight, but i've entered that state of waiting. of doing the dishes, and waiting. doing the laundry, taking walks, playing, coloring, sleeping, bathing, cooking, eating, praying, and waiting. it is a holy time.

sabbath VII

The clearing rests in song and shade.
It is a creature made
By old light held in soil and leaf,
By human joy and grief,
By human work,
Fidelity of sight and stroke,
By rain, by water on
The parent stone.
We join our work to Heaven's gift,
Our hope to what is left,
That field and woods at last agree
In an economy
Of widest worth.
High Heaven's Kingdom come on earth.
Imagine Paradise.
O Dust, arise!

wendell berry

it all muddles together

up & being silly with jonah & noah at 430 this morning, waking matthew up so we can take him to work today. feeling good, feeling Very Pregnant in every way, feel sort of productive even though my day seems to have slipped from me & i barely accomplished the things i wanted to. i put ruby's carseat in the car, and boy it is snug but the boys will just have to adjust. trying to feather my nest a little bit, get more mentally focused for the coming of this little girl. the thunderstorms bring on contractions, and so do the late nights at work. ((well, i guess 8 o'clock really isn't Late, but when you've been up for 14+ hours and you're just about 37 weeks pregnant it definitely feels late.)) curious why brita doesn't make a glass pitcher, why my aunt doesn't want me to use a rocking chair that's been sitting downstairs since we moved in, why anything i drink gives me heartburn, if dreadlocks would really work in my hair... i could go on & on & on. it's an intense time of year, we are in the middle of lent, & a day doesn't pass that i don't feel the pulling, the darkness that comes before the Light, & that these are the final days of this pregnancy, & that there is so much work to do. inside, outside, Inside, Outside.

& how i've come to the conclusion that my all-time favorite flower is the peony. & suddenly i want to plant my entire front yard in them.

PEONIES
by mary oliver

This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready
to break my heart
as the sun rises,
as the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers

and they open ---
pools of lace,
white and pink ---
and all day the black ants climb over them,

boring their deep and mysterious holes
into the curls,
craving the sweet sap,
taking it away

to their dark, underground cities ---
and all day
under the shifty wind,
as in a dance to the great wedding,

the flowers bend their bright bodies,
and tip their fragrance to the air,
and rise,
their red stems holding

all that dampness and recklessness
gladly and lightly,
and there it is again ---
beauty the brave, the exemplary,

blazing open.
Do you love this world?
Do you cherish your humble and silky life?
Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?

Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden,
and softly,
and exclaiming of their dearness,
fill your arms with the white and pink flowers,

with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling,
their eagerness
to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are
nothing, forever?