These days

In two weeks my kids, who have been attending in person school for the past month, will probably be back to elearning. The numbers are on the rise. Please please please put your mask on. Let's be honest though, the people who read this blog already wear masks. When my other kids were babies I didn't have time. I was working full time, and I always felt like I was going. Going. GOING. GOING! I was. I commuted a lot. But weekends were this frantic time to catch up. Catch up on laundry and nature and grocery shopping. And honest, it wasn't bad. It was nice. The pace genuinely worked for us. But this time, I have the luxury of time. Yes. I am doing some work. I bring in a tiny income and am always trying to sqeeze in time do do the writing and listening I get paid for. But a lot more of my time is spent pumping, reading, scrolling, lingering. Also paying attention to weather and leaves and dried out seed pods and squirrels and such. So having a baby right now, and noticing nature has meant, for me, that strange things remind me of my baby. I'll see a blade of grass bend in the wind and something about it will remind me of Esther. I stopped the other day and considered the empty seed pod of a plant and felt connected to that plant as a mother. The squirrels spending these (unusually) warm days gathering feverishly makes me wonder if these calories are only for themselves. It is a luxury to have a yard with a bit of nature in it. A luxury to have time to watch bugs waddle along. A gift to pay attention. And yet, to not use these luxuries and gifts seems akin to sinfulness in my life space.