Home from Haiti for a number of months now, Sara and I are waiting for what’s next, learning not to sweat the small stuff.
It’s been a quiet few months—Sara cooking and working in the garden—me writing and making art—both of us enjoying much-needed time with family and friends.
The dogs seem happy to be home again—sniffing the soil in their own back yard. Inch by inch and foot by foot, they circle the fence line, looking for God-knows-what, navigating nose to earth, with seeming disregard for the eventual success or failure of their search.
Sara and I are learning a similar appreciation for the process—the mere doing of things—less concerned about the outcome and more engaged in the nose-to-earth living itself—the letting go.
Sara started this process in the summer—reimagining nearly all of our back yard—building a raised bed—planting perennials—especially ones we brought back from Georgia, flowers from a friend’s garden, and from another friend before that.
These twice-gifted and double-blessed bulbs took root and grew the strongest and healthiest of all that Sara planted— a reminder that transplants, especially from friends, can sometimes yield the richest harvest.
I’ve been doing some digging of my own, writing a memoir about my mafia father and missionary mother—(The God Father meets God the Father, I suppose you could say). I’m realizing a lot about my past—how that makes me who I am. I’m writing about roots, digging them up, planting them anew.
We don’t know what’s ahead, where we will find ourselves rooted this time next year. At the moment, Sara’s doing a short-term project for the same NGO she’s worked with for decades, but after that we’re open, elbow-deep in unknown soil.
Amidst this uncertainty, however, we want to reaffirm our love for you, for friends and family, those who live close by and those who are rooted in more distant places. You are dear to us—the “holy yes” with which we’re blessed, the love we grow together.
Merry Christmas and happy holidays from our garden to yours.
With love from,
Kathy and Sara (and our dogs, Ralph and Lucy)
(Note: I will be doing more memoir posts after the holiday. If you are a new reader and you would like to look at some of my already-completed pieces about growing up with a mafia father, click here.)