​The Breaking of Spring
 
I feel the breaking of spring within me.
The push of new
And green
And growth
Rising. Wanting. Reaching.
But still so tender
And fragile
And a bit afraid.
Afraid of what lies beyond the cozy soil,
But drawn, nonetheless.
Will I survive?
Will I be stepped upon?
Will I be cut down?
What will become of me?
What will become of these new, tender shoots?
No. That is winter talking.
With his fear and comfort.
What will I become?
What will all this newness become??
And there is Spring.
With her shiny hope all washed in cool rain.
With her golden potential like the warm sun and bright light.
And the sweet begging of babies
For milk and food and life.
And all the new blankets of green that push through the soil
Unafraid
Of frost or cutting or survival.
Because more important than any of that
Is their need to know:
What will I become?
What will all this newness within me become??
​

​
​They first came to me last fall. In the midst of the chaos of moving - the swirl of lists and tape and hopes and reservations and so so many things. They lighted softly on a piece of furniture here or a box there. A paradox of calm from the usually buzzing honeybee, wings so still that I’m sure I imagined the humming. Or perhaps that was the sound in my own head then.

The air cooled after we moved, and the bees left me. But the swirling and buzzing inside me stayed.

I was left missing their calm.

We moved from our lovely home in hopes to step closer to our lifelong dream. Within all the uncertainty of a big decision, we were sure of our dream, sure the decision to move was right, and sure that the whole process would be daunting and hard.

So we sold and left and bought land and a trailer to live in. We filled our hearts with hopes of a little farmhouse and a tree lined driveway and started moving forward, which felt a lot like jumping into a pit with only our faith guiding our climb out.

And as we climbed, things got harder.
Winter was cold and dark and cave-like.
Other responsibilities emerged and expanded.
A surprise baby swirled and hummed inside me.
The buzzing was becoming deafening. Out of control.

But then I remembered the honeybees.

With their golden bodies and shimmering wings. All fuzzy softness and fragility mixed with deep knowing and hard work.

They had come to tell me something that I was too busy then to know.

But now, in this dark buzzing of a winter without the bees I needed to know.

So I researched the honeybee as if they were a code I desperately needed to crack.

Thought to be messengers from the Divine, the honeybee symbolizes many things. Fertility. Prosperity. Hard Work. Community. Sweetness. And Life.

I remembered how I looked at them closely, right into their shining black eyes and felt them regard me, measure me, prepare me.

Preparing me for softness and knowing and fragility and hard work. And a new life.

Perhaps they really did come to me as little messengers, little angels, the kind with wings, sent by the Queen Bee Herself. Perhaps my divine Mother knew I would need to remember that I was prepared for what was to come, even if I didn’t realize it then.

That I was prepared, made, to be soft and knowing and fragile and strong and hard working. All of the things that I needed to be. That I was consecrated to be the queen bee in my own little hive.

That I was not left alone.

Another honeybee came to me today. I was sitting outside, stilling my swelling body and the stirring inside me in the warm sunshine and cool spring breeze. It lighted on my resting feet, claiming my attention, then moved to sit on the pillow next to me.

And as we sat together, I drank deeply the calm.

I said hello to my little friend and thanked him for the message.
For the acknowledgement that all this is hard.
For the reassurance to cling to faith.
For the reminder that I’m not alone.

And now I am prepared to be more calm, to let the busy buzzing of life – the swirl of lists and tasks and reservations and hopes and so many other things - hum around me while I become the soft and strong knowing at the center of my hive.

I know now why they come to me.
These little golden couriers sharing their message with their keen black eyes:
“Still your wings, child. Still your wings.” They say. 

​Life has been INSANE the last several months.

I had everything and nothing to write about. I just couldn't force myself to write. My heart wasn't there yet. 

So many big things have happened in our lives and we've been living one day at a time, one task, one decision, one event. Trying to process it all as it comes. 

When life and choices pull me into a new sort of cocoon I tend to settle into myself and search for meanings and changes and the potential I hope to emerge with. 

It all feels too soft, too new, too share with everyone else, so I wait. And I sit in the hard silently, convinced there is nothing to give.

And while I'm definitely not out of this particular "cocoon" of life yet, I am finding those precious pieces of peace within the journey and I think I'm ready to start sharing again. 
So here is a random update and FAQ's so that my future writing is more clear: 

Last year my husband won his election to become the Chairman of the Utah Republican Party. That has been A LOT. 
FAQ:
Yes, he is gone quite a bit more. 
No, he does not get paid.
Yes, I still feel like I have a husband. Just a very very busy one. 
No, it doesn't last forever- 2 year term.
No, we don't know what he will do after this. He doesn't know. Who knows? 

Last Fall we -seemingly randomly- decided to sell our house. Selling was a thought we had brushed off earlier in the year. Finally feeling content where we were, which was a huge deal for my husband who grew up outside of town. But the "prompting" kept nagging us and we finally acted on it. 

FAQ:
No, we didn't outgrow our home. We loved it!
Yes, we have always wanted to live outside of town on a bit of property.
Yes, we feel God had a huge hand in this decision and is pushing us toward bigger and better things.
No, renting wasn't really an option for us. 
Yes, we live in a 5th wheel trailer on the farm (God Bless my in-laws for supporting us in this whole process.)
Yes, we bought property and plan to build a simple farmhouse and make all our dreams come true. 
Yes, Carson is contracting this build and plans to do as much work as he is able. 
Yes, living in a trailer with 4 kids sucks, but not as badly as you may think. 
Yes, prices for building suck right now. Yes, we sold high, have a budget, and have consulted with professionals to make sure we can afford this change. 

The same week we were packing up our lives- the final week of moving, cleaning, saying goodbye, and stepping into the unknown, I found out I was pregnant. 

I tried not to tell Carson for a few days because, well, mostly I didn't know how to. The knowledge was overwhelming in that moment. In the end I didn't even tell him, he guessed because I'm an open book and a hot mess. 

FAQ:
Yes, we know how babies are made. Yes, we have heard about birth control, thank you. 
No, we were not trying to get pregnant while moving and living in a trailer and building a house. 
Yes, this baby was planned. We even planned on starting to try, but decided to hold off on baby #5 until our house was built. Baby #5 and God had other plans, apparently.
Yes, baby #5 is actually baby GIRL #5! 
No, Carson wasn't "mad" or upset about the pregnancy. Just overwhelmed in all the ways, just as I was. He laughed, I cried.
No, our house will not be finished by the time baby girl makes her debut in July.
Yes, we will bring her home to a trailer and make it work like we always do. 
Yes, Ella is one year old. But by the time baby gets here they will almost be 2 years apart. 
Yes, we are excited and anxious to meet our little one. We have felt her little spirit knocking on our family's door ever since Ella was born and we love her already.

That same week Carson was asked to accept a calling in church to be the 2nd Counselor in our ward's Bishopric. 

FAQ:
Yeah, going to church sucks without his help. 
No, I don't know what I am going to do when the baby comes. But I will figure it out. 
Yes, I support my husband in all his callings, within church and out. Just as he supports me in mine.
No, I don't feel alone. I have a whole army of literal angels that support me and offer me help and cheer me on. (One sister gave my girls boogie boards this last Sunday!)
Yes, my faith has been shaken. About the same way I just taught my daughter to climb a wire fence yesterday. I showed her how to shake it to find the weak spots, the spots that need a little extra support. Now I know what needs to be worked on and strengthened. 

Winter has been rough in the trailer. Just irritating inconveniences piling on top of one another all mixed with morning sickness and infections and cabin fever. But we prayed and learned and held really tightly to our knowing that we are on the right path, the path God sent us down. 

And now spring is here, we've adjusted pretty well and I'm not puking anymore. Life is good.

FAQ:
No, we haven't started building yet. Unfortunately you need permits and permission for stuff like that. But, we have started the overall process and feel really good about our progress. 
Yes, we hope to start soon. Of course we hope to start soon. As soon as flipping possible. Hoping for end of April.
No, cleaning a little trailer doesn't seem easier than a big house. I don't know why. It's probably me. But its fine. We are a hot mess of schedules and mud boots and laundry and life. What is new?
How am I feeling? Like I've been pregnant too many times to answer that question politely. 

So, now that I'm not *quite* as physically ill and mentally unstable as I have been. And now that the sun is shining and my urge to hide from the world is evaporating beneath its rays... I hope to share a bit more while we stretch and grow during this new version of hard, and with all these new blessings that come along with it. 

Because I know to my core, even during the hard- the new hard, the different hard, the same old same old hard, there is peace to be found and something new to become.