pond in spring

Spring isn’t the best season for me. I’m afraid it might lose me my place in the earth-lovers hippie Christian club to admit this, but the truth is I think spring is unbearably messy and I’d really love to just organize it all properly in drawers. Having all these things popping up and out of everywhere makes me anxious.

It’s always a little bit like this. I lift right out of my contemplative center in the spring. Last year I had it particularly bad. Call it the backlash from making an entire huge life transformation while 9 months pregnant and therefore a little too busy to process at the time. A year later I woke up and I was like, “Do I really live in Idaho? Wait. No, really? I live in Idaho? Someone pinch me.”

It was a real thing I had to process. But also it was spring. One plus one equals I got in my car and I drove around the Western mountains. Some of the time I drove wayyyy too fast, but we won’t get into that. That would get me fired from the responsible parent club. (Oh, wait, I was never in that one…never mind.)

Mostly I didn’t drive dangerously, but I did drive. I drove to Washington state and Wyoming and Colorado and New Mexico. I drove twice to Seattle. It took almost a month in somebody else’s city, house sitting for total strangers while they were on vacation in Germany, to make me feel like I had my feet underneath me again.

These are my tendencies. Nobody’s perfect. I’m a shaker and a shifter. I’m a person of the element of fire. I  like to burn through things and start things and quit things and move. And the trigger for all of this? Is often the spiritual or physical or natural season of spring.

Which brings me to the part where I bought a new URL this morning. And thank goodness I caught myself. I was like, oh, hell, I recognize this. I know what you’re up to. I mean, buying a new URL is great. This new idea is beautiful. Good for you, creativity and all. BUT STOP RIGHT THERE IF YOU’RE ABOUT TO DELETE THE ONE YOU ALREADY HAVE.

Sometimes I need an act of God to make me stay put right where I am. Especially, to tell the truth, when things are going well.

Just for a minute, Esther. Just stay. I know it gets uncomfortable, being in your own skin. I know, when so many things are outside of your control, and you can’t get your hands or your brain wrapped tight around it all. I know, when things are going right it scares you, and you want to run away before somebody else runs away first. But it isn’t time right now. 

Just stay.

I may be made for fire. But I am made for water, too. I am made for the deepest, purest water, of the kind that nourishes and heals the soul. I made to lie down by still water. And to root deeply, and engage fully, and to receive the bitter, but also the beautiful and terrifying sweet.

I am made for faith. And trust. And not running away before I ever see the second chapter. And not letting fear win.

I am spreading my blanket among desert plants, and learning from them good, true springtime work.

If you want deep water? Grow deep roots.