In college I had this completely lovely friend (coincidentally she was also named Katie). She was the type of person who always put a little extra thought in everything she did and was so full of careful extraordinary beauty; a rarity not just in college buy anywhere, anytime. In her room she had an impressive plant that she adored. And one day it shattered. Dirt and scattered roots everywhere. Distraught, she said over and over again, “But I grew it from a seed.”
But I grew it from a seed.
This is how I think about the harder seasons of motherhood.
In particular, I think about this season of motherhood.
The anticipation of fall and new backpacks and new beginnings is so exciting especially after a year and a half of trying to navigate above the surface, raising and educating children among a global pandemic. The holding them closer was a necessity. The feeling of drowning was a side effect. Uprooted. Unsteady. All of the unknowing was consuming.
We tried to spread unsettled new soil to shield and protect us all. There is something to be said about the art of enfolding. There is a safety to it, this act of doing something in a time where we felt powerless against a higher source. The seeds we love the most, all in one space, contained. We were able to have the rare time and room to really tend to the roots. A space to see the cracks. A space to heal what we could control.
But now the seeds need to break the surface and grow again in different directions.
We knew we couldn’t contain them forever. But my God it felt hopeful to be given a chance to try.
Whether your baby is going into Kindergarten or college, or like me, the places between. This year I will have two seventh graders, a freshman and a JUNIOR in high school (I simply can’t). New invitations. New directions. New everything. It is exhilarating. It is terrifying. It is hard. It is SO MANY feels and forms to fill out and logistics to attempt to understand and schedules to master and apps, sweet baby Jesus the apps and the text chains and a hope you can find a clone or an extra Uber driver and an extra several hours in your day. It is challenging necessary growth. For us all. And what I need to remember is that it is worth it. A priceless letting go so more beautiful things can emerge above the soil. All. The. Feels.
Godspeed teachers. How lucky we are to have your infinite patience among us.
Be kind to them world.
We grew them from seeds.
