seeds for thought

Legacy, what is a legacy?

It's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see.  

– Lin-Manuel Miranda, “The World Was Wide Enough”, Hamilton: An American Musical

Today is my first Motherʼs Day as a mother. Iʼve thought a lot about my own birth story and my birth motherʼs pregnancy with me over the past twenty-four and half weeks. That is, Iʼve imagined what it might have been like. 

The beginning of my pregnancy was hard. I felt nauseated daily, I had little appetite, I lost weight over the first three months, and I was always exhausted. But I was still excited about our baby and felt proud to know that these were signs of my body doing an important job. 

The symptoms also made me wonder about my birth mother’s pregnancy with me. Did she feel as sick as I did? As tired as I did?

Iʼm acutely aware of the stark differences in our circumstances. I have a few sentences on ghost-thin paper about my mother’s pregnancy and my birth. I don’t know what symptoms she experienced, but I do know she was working in the city to send money to her family in a more rural area. I know she fell in love with my biological father, a “coffee shop DJ,” but “it was a one-sided love.” I know that she bound her stomach so that she could continue working. I know that she made the (literally) life-changing decisions to give me life and a chance at a life beyond what she would ever be able to provide.

I am overwhelmed with gratitude at the sacrifices she made. Her choices made way for the life I have now. As sick as I felt in those early days, I was working from home. I had sick days I could use. I had a husband who loved and took excellent care of me. 

As I continue to grow our baby, now starting to feel their kicks and somersaults, I am amazed at just how much I already love them. I like to think that my mother felt the same way. She saw the potential, the value of my life. Without her knowing anything about who I was or would become—about my personality, gifts, or skills—I was enough. Enough for her to endure the months of unpleasant symptoms. Enough for her to let her body be stretched and altered. Enough for her to go through additional discomfort to hide those changes so that she could continue to do what was expected of her.

My birth mother planted a seed that my adopted mom (and dad) were able to water. She gave me life and a family and opportunity. I hope, somehow, she knows that it was worth it. 

My life is her legacy.  And that legacy continues on through the life of my baby.

 

seasons.

Graduation was on Saturday.

Not for me, but for the rest of my class. We're done with undergrad. We're moving on.

The season is changing.

I've really struggled with the whole "seasons" thing. Change can be pretty difficult on its on, whether it's changing schools, jobs or place of residence. But mostly I've dreaded friendship seasons. I've heard it over and over that "Some people are only in  your life for a season, Katy."

I HATED that. 

Why couldn't they stay around? Was it something I did? How do I not do that or why did I keep doing that? 

I've talked to many and prayed a lot about having peace with this, and it's a work in progress.

I had a bit of a breakthrough yesterday, though. A breakthrough after a bit of a breakdown.

Breakdown: My roommate who became an amazing friend moved home to Southern California. It's been an enormous blessing to have her in my life for the past four years, and I'm confident we're "stuck" with each other, but it's still hard to see the seasons change from living in the same room to living on the same campus to living in the same town to just living in the same state. 

Breakthrough: Brad spoke on 1 Corinthians 9:1-19 and Paul's teachings on choosing Love over our rights and freedoms. It was the perfect message for me to hear on many levels, but a breakthrough came when I realized that God's calling of my heart to Portugal means I'll have to sacrifice a lot. A main focus of the passage was on Paul's defense and later refusal of his right to earn money for his ministry. (v. 14-18) Now, I came to accept the fact long ago that I wouldn't ever make a lot of money  doing what God was calling me to do. That I have no problem with. It wasn't money I'd argue with God about.

It's relationships.

Not even romantic ones, although there's been arguments and someday they'll be again over those too. But friendships. Deep, genuine, intimate friendships. 

It's been a common lament of mine that the friends I feel closest to and safest with live the farthest away from me. Whether it's another city or another state, there's at least four hours between us. 

In my selfish, narrow-sighted anger, I'd cry out: "Why are all of the people who "get" me and love me so far away?" What's wrong with me? Why doesn't anyone stay around?"

And then yesterday, the breakthrough...

God's placed those people in my life in different places so that I can learn how to do daily life without them and with Him. He's showing me that I can maintain friendships, deep, rich, intimate friendships, with people who live far from me. Whether we have eight hours of a time difference or driving separating us, it's totally doable. 

So, if you're changing seasons, remember He's got reason. ;)

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: 

a time to be born, and a time to die;

a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; 

a time to kill, and a time to heal;

a time to break down, and a time to build up; 

a time to weep, and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn, and a time to dance; 

a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;

a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; 

a time to seek, and a time to lose;

a time to keep, and a time to throw away; 

a time to tear, and a time to sew;

a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; 

a time to love, and a time to hate;

a time for war, and a time for peace.

- Ecclesiastes 3:1-8