Taking time to smell the cilantro

There is a Farmer’s Market nearby that I had never been to before. With the boys off to scout camp and Guy, for a rare treat, not having Saturday classes, we slept in, snuggled, and then dressed the girls and headed out. I wore my straw hat and brought my African basket (because that’s what you do at a farmer’s market, don't ya' know). The only thing I was missing was a pair of Birkenstocks and a white linen dress. I even bought glowing, fragrant flowers just so I could carry them in my basket. It was very granola of me.

It was amazing to be there. With all of the food struggles I have been wrestling over these past weeks, what a thrill to look around me and know I could eat nearly everything I saw (try saying that when you walk through the grocery store! There are whole aisles I can’t even walk down without my blood sugar spiking). I was impulse buying completely guilt-free; bunches of cilantro, bags of oranges and bundles of broccoli.

Guy grabbed potatoes and almonds and green onions and proudly pointed out the screaming deals we were getting. We bought strawberries the sizes of plums, and sampled cheeses and fruit slices with abandon. People were kind and friendly, smiling and courteous as they took their turns at the vendor's stands. They grinned at the girls and were careful not to trample them. For me it became a whole new way of looking at food, and given my current state of fruitfulness, at being.

It was, after all, just food. We can get all of the same things at the local Safeway. But it was different somehow in the bright, glorious light of day. The vibrant colors seemed to clear my head of the clutter that has been there. The realness of buying food from out of the same hands that had, that very morning, picked and loaded it, gave me a sense of deep gratitude and connectedness to these people and the world around me. I had just needed a new way of looking at what has been there all along.

As the girls admired the flowers, a Monarch butterfly pranced around their heads fearlessly. It looped out into the market darting between people, only to return to the girls again and again to drink nectar from the flowers they admired. They giggled wildly as it flitted between them as if it had been a frolicking puppy. People stopped to take in the moment, as did I, joining in their laughter.

As this baby grows inside of me, I am challenged with the opportunity to look at things with new eyes, and of taking in this moment. I am being compelled to replace fearful voices in my head whispering that this baby may yet not make it, with other possible realities that are pressing into me as each little kick says “everything is just fine”.

I got out the cloth diapers the other day and folded them, then quickly put them away, like I was sneaking a bite of forbidden sweetness that is not yet mine to enjoy. It was the first time I have allowed myself the indulgence of picturing the baby here in our space, sharing our lives, and being a part of this family. Though we have cautiously spoken of it, I have not yet let it into my heart.

We brought home the beautiful food and flowers, and have been enjoying the bounty of them. Soon another blessing will come to us to be enjoyed. Really, it has been here for a long time already, though I have not, up till now, been able to acknowledge it.

It is time to start enjoying now.

(Tessa, taking time to smell the flowers, and me, growing!)