Nesting

I promised myself that I would take my pregnancy as a time to rest and as an opportunity to reflect more on my inner life; but looking back at the last 7 months, this baby has been in 8 countries and 11 US states in utero, a great indication that my intention for rest has certainly not been achieved.

But last week, I arrived at my Hoosier home, my final stopping place before little Toto*, our baby, makes an appearance in this world.  There is a cabin next to my parents' house, filled with the cabinets and furniture from my grandparents' old home, stocked with their dishes, and decorated with my grandmother's quilts and pictures of my extended family. 

Upon arrival at home, I began unpacking my things and nesting in this cozy place.  I now spend my mornings in quiet meditation, looking out at pond, now frozen, where I spent so much of my childhood.  In the evenings, I knit by the fireplace while listening to a podcast or audiobook.  I have no internet or television and I like it this way.  Finally, I'm getting the rest I've promised myself from the beginning.

This place symbolizes family and heritage for me.  It gives me a sense of grounding in my life that is literally all over the place; it is, to me, a place where I take off my wings and I feel my roots.  This is where I will stay for the next 3 months, where Eric will soon join me to await Toto's birth, and this will be the very place where Toto is welcomed into our family.

 
 
 
 

*Toto means "baby" in Swahili.  It is the name we've chosen to refer to our unborn baby, since we've decided not to know the gender.

The Charm of Vermont

I had a day in Vermont with a colleague-turned-friend, who graciously gave me a tour of the area's charming towns and countryside.  These places and spaces were dreamy, even in the wintertime, and we had a great time together on our whirlwind winter tour.

The words 'quaint' and 'charming' describe almost every place we visited, from her own wood-heated cabin to the tavern across the street, the covered bridges, the diner, the farm, and the yarn shop.  It was small town America at its best, with local shops lining the streets, neighbors chatting it up wherever they run into each other, and the beauty of the countryside always accessible.

This week's delights

"It requires no special talent or effort to look at our world and point out the things that numb us, or dumb us down, or depress us. In fact, it’s a no-brainer! But becoming keenly and consistently aware of what’s good, true, beautiful, and life-giving around us and within us demands a discipline: we must open our eyes, minds, and hearts. And we must keep them open.

The reward for that discipline is great: as we open up, we start to see beauty everywhere, not only in nature, but in human nature.  There's a lot of bad news out there, but there's a lot of good news as well.  Pass the word and help keep hope alive!"
-Parker Palmer, as quoted from the OnBeing blog
 

Here are a few things from my week that are good and beautiful and for which I am grateful.  Although they are small, some are miracles in their own way.  What have you found to be life-giving this week?  "Pass the word and help keep hope alive!"

1) Unwrapping uplifting thoughts

 
 

2) Finding a beautiful hard copy of my favorite book at a used bookstore.  Now I can treasure both my well-loved copy and this pristine one, both for different reasons.

 
 

3) Natural cold relief to get me through my second cold since being in America.

4) Finding these simple and elegant earrings, made in New Mexico and bought at a local boutique in Portsmouth, NH.

5) Browsing through my host's book collection and flipping through all the great finds.

 
 

Hibernation

The last couple of weeks have been full of great people - so many great people!  We've hosted friends from Africa, connected with friends from the Middle East and India, and caught up with friends from across America.  We heard inspirational speakers, met new people, and I've had deeply touching one-on-one conversations with many.  These people have energized my spirit and I find myself jotting notes of wisdom I garner from them as I go.

As much as I've been energized inwardly, I came to the end of my time in Washington, DC physically drained and exhausted.  My body, often the wiser one, has told me to stop with the onset of a cold.

So now, hibernation.

I found my way up to Maine in between winter storms and I'm now staying in a cozy home, looking out my window at over 3 feet of snow.  I'm doing a training in Conscious Social Change with a partner organization, Global Grassroots.  The home of Gretchen, the founder, is filled with handmade furniture, plants, books, and memorabilia from her travels around the world, all making it feel like a semblance of my own home.  Our training involves, among other things, elements of self-care and mindfulness, bringing me back to a sense of balance and rest, both of which I badly need.  I now let myself tune in to the winter season, shut myself into this comfort, and hibernate from the world for a bit.

Here are some photos and bits of wisdom I've collected from all those lovely people over the last couple of weeks:

“Sharing achievements creates competition, but sharing vulnerabilities creates relationships.”
“Prayer is great for bringing inner peace and strength, but it doesn’t change anything outside. It is up to us to act and make change from that inner place.”
— The Dalai Lama
“The word ‘agree’ comes from the same word as ‘symphony.’ It is not the same instruments that are playing, or even the same notes, but they are still making something beautiful.”
 
 
“You can do more than you think you can, but it’s not always wise. (In regards to pregnancy, parenting, and balance with other areas of life.)”
“We should not develop an attachment to one’s own faith...we think we only need one truth, but we need a concept of several truths.”
— The Dalai Lama
 
 

McGill Family Photos

The best part about living as an expatriate is that so many great people come into your life and become sweet friends, but the worst part is when those great friends leave. It is a bittersweet reality that people to whom I come to know and love, I must also say goodbye.

The McGills moved to Uganda a couple of years ago, anxious to establish a community of friends in this place far away from what they knew. I've been privileged to be a part of this community of theirs and to know them during this season. They recently moved back to Michigan, not so far from my family's home in Indiana, a fact that brings me gladness with the hope of seeing them state-side. Before they left, I had the opportunity to photograph their family and capture memories of this season in their lives, living in Uganda with a beautiful backyard full of home-raised food and enough space for their energetic girls to tumble and climb around.