Thursday, April 19, 2012
A letter to my plum-sized baby.
Dear Little E,
Last night, we went on an adventure. Just you and me. The two of us have spent a lot of time hunched over a nursing textbook, a patient's bed, or a sewing machine, and I thought it was high time we stretch out and get some fresh air.
So I hopped on the back of my bike and headed west. We bumped along backroads, past spotted horses and rusty gates, watching tiny rabbits hop through crevices in old stone walls. We passed a rope swing over a creek that I had jumped from in high school, feeling brave until someone yelled "water moccasin!" and we all dog-paddled to the shore. We breathed crisp air sweetened with honeysuckle, and I have a feeling you could feel the change in me. The joy. The peace.
I thought to myself, "This is the same air you'll breathe. This is the same creek you'll play in. These are the same landmarks you'll know." You may not live here for long - even enough to remember - but this will always be where you got your start... the hills of Franklin, Tennessee, just like your mommy. I have a feeling you'll spend lots of your life in a city somewhere - but your beginning will always be here.
As I hunt for jobs and try to cram in my last clinical hours, I've been reminded of the not-so-fun parts of life that we all have to go through. But then there are beautiful parts. Like tonight. There are sweet pauses to clear our minds, our hearts, and rejuvenate our bodies. There are times to be alone, with God. And I can't wait to show you these parts. To introduce you to this messy, mysterious, complicated, wonderful world you're about to be a part of.
Are you ready?