Posted in Foliage Fridays, Homesteading, New-to-me

Playing in dirt

Well, it’s officially Spring here in Minnesota-land. And I’m having fun playing outside with plants. I truly never expected gardening to bring me such joy. Poking around in dirt, spending money and time on leafy things? Teenager Jes would have rolled her eyes and thought, “booooooring!” But 35-year-old Jes is a ridiculously gleeful novice gardener. And though I have to overcome my tendency to kill plants due to naivety, lately my “black thumb” is just a crust of dirt from gardening!

I’ve also begun volunteering at my local CSA. I figured I wanted the gardening experience if they had anything a novice could do. Turns out anyone who’s willing to follow directions and has a little time can split sprouted seeds or plant a long row of kale in freshly tilled soil. Being outside for even an hour in the warm May sunshine is like bathing in liquid gold. And rubbing shoulders with experienced gardeners/farmers has yielded me some pearls of wisdom.

So, this season, I have a bit more confidence regarding my own little homestead, and a lot less fear of failure. And that’s a beautiful place to be.

But without further ado, let’s get to the photographic good stuff, eh?

1.5 hours of sowing kale!

Posted in Being real, New-to-me, Thoughts

Reflections on parenting

Well, here we are 5 months into 2018 and I finally have the energy/will to sit down & blog a little. It’s ironic to me that in the last trimester of pregnancy, I am finally feeling as though I can process being pregnant AND be a Jes. I’m so glad human gestation takes 9 months. It really gives all parties involved time to prepare.

I’m wrapping my brain around the myriad of changes coming to the Brookes household as we transition into parenthood. One of the ways a good Jes prepares to be a first time mother is to reflect on all the examples of parenting she has witnessed. A good Jes learns from any teacher: strangers at Half Price Books with children in the kids’ section, strangers on the bus, families in house church, relatives, friends. You have all been showing me how you do it: this parenting thing. And I’m hyper-aware that I have a lot of theoretical ideas & ideals but not so much preparedness for the new job I’m transitioning into this summer.

Because let’s just be clear: parenting is a job.

You can be unwillingly employed, unskilled and unaware. You can fail on a daily basis. You can feel like at times you want to quit. You can resent management for a lack of communication and feedback on your performance. You can doubt your ability. You can rise to the challenges. You can be physically, mentally and emotionally drained only to find out your shift is an overtime/overnight gig when you least want it to be. It can demand you work on things you are weak in for the betterment of the whole team. It can demand you show up for work when you are sick, or angry at your coworkers, or desperately needing a vacation. It can feel like it doesn’t pay enough or the benefits package sucks. Yet it can be a place of pure joy, of deep pride in the effort you’ve put in. It can be a place you love to go, alongside coworkers you truly enjoy. It can be hard AND rewarding because it IS hard.

I repeat: parenting is a JOB.

In 2008, a naive bride prepared herself to marry the man she loved, armed with ideals and a lot of blind faith. Turns out I’m also walking into this new job with relatively no skills. My resume is padded with good intentions, idealized dreams of what it “could be” and how I’ll perform. Thank God we go in that way, not fully knowing. Cause if we knew what anything would ultimately cost us, we would never risk getting off the couch to go.

And I want to go. I am thrilled to learn more about my flaws; to grow as a human as I take care of this budding new life. It will be humbling and embarrassing and I absolutely will fail this child. I will fail to see them when they need to be seen most. I will hurt them where it matters more than I know. And going into this knowing I have the best of intentions, but will still fail? Man, that isn’t an easy pill to take.

But newsflash, you warrior parents out there, with your brave hearts: failure is not the only legacy you leave your children!

Love washes over a multitude of things. Your children remember your kindness, your stories, the food you make, the ways you saw them and met their needs, the times you rose to the challenge and sacrificed without their knowledge so they could flourish. It may take awhile. And they will never know everything you gave and did, how parenting emptied you of yourself so they could be them. But your children will stand and bless you. They will give you gifts you didn’t expect, and joy you didn’t think possible to experience at moments you were bracing yourself for sorrow.

I sometimes get the feeling that parents feel like all their kids remember is the moments when they blew it. Kids (young or old) can act like that. They may be little punks and hurt you real deep, or expose your worst fears. But you have not failed 100% of the time. Love washes over a multitude of things. How your parents messed up doesn’t matter in light of the love they give you. I feel like this is what God teaches us when He gives us agape love.

We are human, and we fail each other. But when we love/agape each other, we say, “It’s okay you failed me (this one time, lots of times, whatever). I see that overall you try to love me, and you’ve successfully done that (insert specific examples). I forgive you for hurting me when you were just in human-mode. You have more than made up for this with the countless ways you have loved me. I will choose to remember those.” And then we do, until hurt is a distant memory.

My parents are some of the people I respect the most on this planet. I have been privileged to witness: their lives, their personalities engaging in their work, their struggles, their being real. That is a gift. It affects me profoundly. And that’s what parenting is: affecting other humans profoundly. What you say and do as a parent, is remembered. The wonderful moments you give your children ARE REMEMBERED. I don’t care who your kid is. They will remember some time you saw them, for real, some moment you gave them something special and interacted with them on their level. And this will be a thing they TREASURE FOREVER. It will make small & even big hurts seem less important, even miniscule. Being loved and seen and known and accepted washes over a multitude of failures.

So, brave mamas out there: on this mother’s day, DO NOT BE DISCOURAGED. You are exactly the kind of person for the unique job of parenting your kids. You have what it takes. Showing up might be all you can bring today. Bring that. Any moment you choose to be a mom is a win. Any moment you choose to love? That’s a win. No one may comment on it. No one may seem to notice, but it matters. You, being you, sharing your life with your children, matters. Every day you show up for work is another faithful testimony to your strength, courage and love.

And I have so much respect for you all. Thank you for the lessons in how to overcome your human-moments. Thank you for showing me ways to be kind and treat little humans with respect. Thank you for showing me: how to remain yourselves when the job is overwhelming, how to say no to most things and yes to a few, how to get it right and how to bounce back when you get it wrong, how to show up and stay and fight and love well. I wanna be just like you.

Happy Mother’s Day.