This past year in Tennessee has been one of growth—of finding patience I had never imagined, of collecting joy in places I hadn’t expected to find it, of learning to be brave and to venture out to see and be seen, of showing up before I’ve got it all figured out, of digging deep to learn who I’m becoming and of finding ways to be intentional every day.
Just barely over a year after we got here, we face the possibility of another relocation. Really it’s more than a possibility— a when rather than an if. I think we’ve done our best to grow roots in shallow soil, but I also think we’re ready for the soil to start getting a bit deeper.
we are delighted to be expecting our third child.
After our loss last fall, for the first two months of this pregnancy I lived in breathless denial. Always waiting for a negative sign, always expecting the end. And despite my lack of faith and prominence of fear, here I am at 15 weeks pregnant, with a growing belly and lots of commentary from our ecstatic little girls, like Mirabella's clinical questioning, “Mommy, I’ve been wondering this for a long time...how does the baby come out, anyway?” or Emerie's reassuring announcement of, “Mommy, I will love you no matter what your hair looks like. Or even when your belly gets big. Or no matter what your body parts look like.”
We go puddle jumping and learn to laugh in the face of questions that don’t yet have answers. We thank God for the beauty and provision of right now, this day. We love each other and our new friends; we share our food and our space; we pray and we wait for everything to happen in what feels like perfectly imperfect time. We practice having faith through the fear.