the beginnings of a garden and motherhood

Aren't those the sweetest faces?


We planted some seeds today. It did not go as I thought it would. I thought, in my Charlotte-Mason idealizing, that my children would be really into it. Actually, they were really into throwing the dirt around and dropping the seeds everywhere and running over the plants with their tricycles.

Oh, motherhood. It is terrifying and thrilling and sorrowful and love-filled and utterly disappointing. I just can't seem to get the hang of it, no matter how hard I try. It is a demolishing of my self, an emptying out of my whole being--hopefully making room enough for Love. It is truly my salvation.

That's something I've been pondering these days (thanks mostly to The Quotidian Mysteries)-- there is salvation in washing the dishes, soothing tears, wiping noses, scrubbing toilets. I'm not doing these things so that I can get on to the more important things. These are the things I'm doing. And my salvation is bound up inextricably in these little things.