New Seasons

I've had a habit over the years of singing through The Byrds' song "Turn Turn Turn" (in other words, Ecclesiastes) to think through what season of life I'm in: 

To everything (turn, turn, turn)There is a season (turn, turn, turn)And a time to every purpose, under heaven

A time to be born, a time to dieA time to plant, a time to reapA time to kill, a time to healA time to laugh, a time to weep

To everything (turn, turn, turn)There is a season (turn, turn, turn)And a time to every purpose, under heaven

A time to build up, a time to break downA time to dance, a time to mournA time to cast away stones, a time to gather stones together

To everything (turn, turn, turn)There is a season (turn, turn, turn)And a time to every purpose, under heaven

A time of love, a time of hateA time of war, a time of peaceA time…

A Time to Cast Away Stones: Selling our Family Home

Right now, the line that grabs me is "cast away stones" and "gather stones together." Maybe because my mom announced to us that she is buying a new house! in Idaho. Which means that our family home is going to be sold. Possibly not even sold, but razed and converted to a commercial property. Fargo is growing southward, and when we first moved to this house in 1985, we were out in the country. Today, we're only a few miles from town, as opposed to several. 

The thought that there soon might not be a physical house to contain all of my childhood memories, is a little terrifying: in a way, it's like losing a limb. The memories will be there, but there may not even be an opportunity to bring my kids to the house where I grew up and show them the rooms and say, "This is where ----- happened." I had a rather haunting pregnancy dream a few weeks ago where I was visiting our house and happened to see my ghostly 8-year-old sister Meghan calling from outside the window to see if I wanted to play. It felt very Wuthering-Heights-ish. 

The other part that's hard to get used to, is wondering where our family "center" will be. In a family of eight kids, we used to talk about how we'd be all spread out over the country in our adulthood, and who would live where. We were eager to be adventurous and live big lives. Reality has shown us that being at a distance from each other is not always exciting as we once thought. What we prioritize now, in our twenties and thirties, are chances to be all together, which are few and far between. Amongst the eight of us, we traverse several states and even foreign countries - Idaho, Illinois, Minnesota, Maryland, North Dakota, and Turkey. We are mainly still centered in the midwest, but what happens when the matriarch of your family is now out west? Is the center there, or does it remain what it has been? It's confusing. 

It struck me, too, that not only the physical house may be gone, but also the places around it that have many memories. The bridge where, as a 12-year-old interested in archeology, I once found a complete cow skeleton intact in the mud at the riverbed and thought I could practice my excavating skills... The church

only a quarter mile away to which we would ride our bikes, attend Saturday night Mass, and practice organ and piano. The many country roads that became familiar over bike rides and runs. The shelter belt behind the field where we created a pioneer village and discovered old stones with cryptic writing unearthed over years of farming. 

There are so many opportunities to learn how to say goodbye in life, and this is just one of them. As much as I mourn saying goodbye to our childhood home, I can see that it's good never to get too attached to any one thing, even memories. 

A Time To Plant: Having a Baby

It was a very exciting and welcome surprise to find out we were expecting only two months after our wedding! Like everything, though, I've learned that when new things are coming, my worry brain comes out in full force. The first 3 months of pregnancy were spent on Googling every possible and potential worrisome thing. As irrational as these worries turned out to be, it was something I had to find out for myself. 

Now nearly six months into pregnancy, I've finally started to relax and enjoy the ride. 

It's been a fun time of learning - and there is so much to learn - like, what things you need, what things people convince you you'll need that you actually don't need. Trying to plan for the future in pregnancy feels so much like trying to plan for marriage in engagement - you are just guessing your way along based on what veterans in the field say to you, but you really have no clue, nor can you, until it really starts. Come to think of it, being a high school graduate and talking to older adults about my college plans felt like this too - they'd ask me my plans, and I'd mumble something about "generals" that I had hardly a clue about, and they'd go along like I actually knew what I was going to do with my life. 

One of the weirdest things to get used to is realizing that I'm not my perfect self yet, the self I somehow thought I'd be before children. I have a lot of weird rough edges, wounded hurt parts that haven't been healed really, or things that I'd say are "in progress." No way do I want my poor child exposed to all that. And yet, some of the best parent role models I've known have been the ones who embraced the mess and showed their children how to do the same. There's that often re-quoted Brene Brown quote about not waiting till you have it all together to step into the arena... And I think that's wise advice that is worth trying to follow. 

A Time to Break Down: From Full-Time Teacher to Stay-at-Home Mom

I love being a piano teacher - and have spent thirteen years building experiences and learnings and relationships to this end. Realistically, being a piano teacher is something you never really have to stop doing. It's just going to look different at different times in your life, and that's another thing that I love about it. 

But I always also really wanted to be a stay-at-home mom. And being a stay-at-home mom means saying goodbye to being a full-time teacher, for now.

I find that, now being on the threshold of this new adventure, there are so many weird thoughts that intrude: 

 - "Where does one get "Mom friends?" will finding "Mom friends" ever be a comfortable thing?" It feels like the first day of school all over again... anxiety about meeting friends. 

 - "What if I am a better piano teacher than mom??"

 - "What does the typical day look like for a stay-at-home mom, anyway?" 

 - "How much will I miss getting to hear my students' funny, thoughtful insights, or being part of their lives?"

But there are things that I think back to, from being an older sibling when there was a new baby in the house, that I'm so very excited for, like: 

 - baby cuddles

 - the sweet sound of baby laughter

 - babies after they've had a bath and how excited they are to run around naked

 - watching all of the little milestones and the funny things babies and toddlers do and say

 - how the world starts to look fresh because you see it through their eyes. 

This, Too, Shall Pass

Thinking back to my single days, which I truly thought would last forever, I got used to thinking that the time I was in was always going to be "A time to wait." 

Since being married, I think of that often - think of the excruciating pain of the wait, remember how hard it could sometimes feel to watch other people receiving the things I really hoped to receive - with grace and without bitterness.

It could be hard to receive the time I was in, and to grapple with all the reasons why it had to be a waiting time - whether in or out of my control. I can look back now and see all the joys that were part of that time (many of which I was blind to), and all the things that that time taught me and gifts that it offered. 

Now in this new season, in this new time of transition - the season that I longed for so many years - I realize that there are both new joys to be found and new pains, and new things to learn. Being a mother is a true joy - it's also terrifying! Being married is every bit as awesome as I'd hoped, even more so - and it is also full of opportunities to be more vulnerable and more raw, which can be way more uncomfortable than I ever expected. 

I am learning the truth of each season having a purpose. And learning that as long or painful or joyful or scary or glorious as the season we're in may seem, it is one of many, and it will pass and become something else. It seems as though the people who have the most wisdom learn how to move with the seasons and how to receive them all with grace, so I am hoping to learn to do the same.