Friday, April 23, 2010

First Crop

Today I wept. They were deep sobs that made me tremble. It's been a good while since I wept like that. I was on a no tear streak. But today the flood gates were let loose.

My roommates puppy got into one of my trays of garden starts. Lettuce, tomato, carrots and peppers. They were all doing really well. I was so excited to see the fruits of my dedication come summer time. I went out on the deck and just sat and stared and wept at the pile of what had been promises of sweet summer time and dirty hands and fresh food. A few minutes later my roommate graciously came to my rescue with potting soil and new trays, ready to doctor it up. We scooped up the survivors and cleared away the mess. In the end, I had at least two of each kind that made it through.

Later, as I was weeding the garden beds, I thought about why I cried. I didn't cry because I would go hungry. Between my roommate and I, we have an abundance of seeds and will have a huge crop this summer. I didn't cry because I'd lost a monetary investment. Seeds are next to nothing and the soil I received free. Those were the two reasons a simple farmer would have heartache over lost crop. My heartache was because they were my babies. This is my first year raising a garden all on my own. I was so proud of my crop and how well they were growing. Proud. My pride. Pride comes before the fall. And today I fell. I was investing so much of my focus and drive into what may never be, which I find myself doing in so many areas of my life. And when things don't go as planned, my heart sinks. I become discouraged. All hope is lost because I'm blind to the hope that surrounds me.

When I realized this I stopped and said sorry. At that moment the sun peaked through the clouds and warmed my back. I looked out over the yard, speckled with bursts of yellow dandelions, the grass blowing in the breeze and smiled. He is faithful to forgive. I whispered thank you as I took a deep breath and dug back into the soil.

It was a lose. But it was just seeds. Life goes on.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010


Last night my dad went with me to pick up an old bicycle I found for sale on the internet. It is old. It is rusty. It will need a lot of work and time. I'm so excited.

On the drive home my dad said, "You should be a writer Nicole." At first I was confused. A writer? Me? He reads my writing in my journal? Then it dawned on me, He reads my blog duh. But how I see it, my writing is like that rusty bike sitting in a pile in the corner of my garage right now. It's rusty. It's not shiny, new and exciting with lots of bells and whistles. The people that like my writing are the people that love me most, so it's not hard for them to see past the rust. They read my writing and see the beauty underneath. Strangers looking at my writing, well I think they might only see the rust. Who knows, maybe someday people will look at my rust and really like it. I'm open to it. And my dad's compliment last night opened me up to that.

Thank you dad for seeing past the rusty bike!

Saturday, April 10, 2010


In the past year I've tried, sometimes with great failure, to simplify my life. Cut out the unnecessary and keep or add the necessary. It sounds so simple. The steps to remove these things were simple for me, until it started impacting others. Then I started to wonder if I was being selfish. Refusing invitations to see movies at the theater, turning down foods that I once "loved", spending time working on my garden instead of hanging with friends, sitting around a fire instead of a tv, not having the latest and greatest and being content. But the more I strive for simple, the more I enjoy it and hopefully draw others in. Simple is peaceful. Simple is fun. Simple is...well, simple.

Yesterday I took my brother to Ocean Shores for a night. It's one of the vacation places we went to as kids, back when life was simple. We just hung out. Walked around the beach, rented banana bikes and peddled around town, and checked out all the shops we went to as kids. We came home with a bag full of shells and pretty content. We didn't buy any souvenirs. We didn't go out to eat. It was perfect.