Here are some photos from this Mother’s Day weekend. I spent a lot of it looking at Honeysuckle and Irises, and watching my children enjoy time outside in a near perfect weekend of weather.
This weekend felt like reading a good book of poetry. Small details noticed, like little secrets with God or the Earth itself. I let my fingers touch the tender, fragile petals of the countless honeysuckle blossoms, whose fragrance filled the soft blowing breeze. I took in many deep breaths just to remind myself of this particular place in time. I did so to the sounds of Micah playing in the playground in all sorts of imaginative ways. My heart was full.
I sat on a green grassy hill overlooking the playground, with a lovely lake in the background, and I had the deepest sense of peace wash over me. The most peace I’ve felt since I was sitting in a pool in the DR last fall, the pinnacle moment of rest in my last five years.
I counted my blessings and for the moment ignored my heartbreaks. I felt my heart grow more elastic inside my chest. My eyes welled up.
We spent the afternoon at a state park for Mother’s Day. We had a picnic lunch near the Platte River. The boys played on the playground, countless birds chirped, young families gathered together, horses brayed in the background.
Nebraska is not necessarily where I saw myself raising my family. But this is where we are, and our roots have grown deep into the fertile soil here. And I am grateful. We are nourished by this land and its people. It welcomes us, it sustains us. We call it our home and are blessed.
Stepping Back 