Although the sun is warm and shining, I can feel the cold front approaching. I draw inward, moving slower. I focus solely on the beautiful, tiny tasks in front of me. They get the best and the worst of what I have to give.
Words swirling in the fog of a sleep-deprived brain, remain un-typed on a computer screen that was turned on, but never sat with.
It is no longer my passions or callings that keep me up at night.
Instead, it is a newborn, pink bundle with rose petal cheeks and erratic bowel activity.
I take my dreams, gifts, callings and plant them deep into freezing earth with a promise of, “in time…”
There they will go dormant.
In moving to the South, I was sad to notice the absence of lilacs. What were once my favorite flower of Spring in the Midwest, can’t exist in the land of magnolias, crepe myrtles, and azaleas.
Apparently, lilacs require over two thousand hours of temperatures below 45 degrees Fahrenheit to be healthy. A Georgia winter won’t come close to that.
There are times that things MUST go dormant in order to bloom.
They must wait for Spring.
“Lord, multiply our sleep.” These words, my Dad often prayed as he tucked me in at bedtime. My young ears were used to hearing this familiar prayer. Perhaps praying this faithfully was one of the reasons that during his healthy years, my Dad had the energy of ten people. I find myself praying the same words over my own kids now, as well as pleading them on my own behalf.
“Multiply my sleep.”
Sleep. Quiet. Dormant.
Some things need to go dormant in order to grow and multiply.
Deep. Under frozen ground they wait.
I am learning not to resent dormancy. My gifts and talents that lie unused. Waiting for Spring.
My dreams. Callings.
They are only gathering strength as they steep in experience, resilience, and patience.
As some of myself sinks into the depths of dormancy, other parts of me rise to the surface.
Now is the time to invest in three of my greatest dreams. I get to help them discover what gifts and talents have yet to wake up inside of each of them. Funny. So much of what is emerging from each of them casts shadows of that which I have buried deep.
As I walk in this maternal calling, I am taught lesson upon lesson of selflessness, bravery, and prayer. There are stretch marks on more than just my belly. My soul contains the stripes of someone who has been pushed to her limits.
My roots reach down deep into cold earth.
In the quiet of the nursery, I keep my post as I rock in sleepy darkness.
I have hopes for my future. Gifts I want to use. Things I want to do. Words I want to write. Callings I have heard but have yet to walk into…
Mark my words, I am not losing myself.
I am submerged in life.Steeping in inspiration.
Do not mistake that which has gone dormant for death. It is multiplying.
Don’t be fooled by that which appears to be sleeping. This deep sleep is far from dreamless.
The thaw is coming, and with it will come a flood.
In my weakness, I will gather strength.
With my exhaustion comes revival.
The most beautiful blooms must come from a frozen place.
No, I will not resent the dormant.
In these depths I will rest and wait.
Knowing that the most beautiful things begin in the deep.