‘To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow’.
Pinterest tells me it was Audrey Hepburn who said it, but Pinterest tells me lots of untruths, so who knows. The point is that I am yet to plant anything in the actual sandy soil here at our limestone farmhouse.
That says a lot.
I’ve been waiting and wondering. Finding our feet. Fumbling in the dark. Trying to be patient whilst my nesting instincts screamed out for a home. To be honest I’ve been waiting for the lightbulb moment, the one where we either go ‘yes, this is where we are meant to be’ or ‘we have made a huge mistake’. But let’s go back a bit first…
After over a year of being ‘homeless’ living on the road during our around-Australia honeymoon I was more than ready to put down roots again. During that time we tried to nut out what on earth we were going to do with our one wild and precious life…where did we want to live, what did we want to invest ourselves in, where was our place in the world, where would we start a family, put down roots. We talked a lot. Prayed, threw ideas out into the universe and asked for guidance. I don’t talk about my faith here, or with many people, I don’t think it’s something my blog readers are interested in nor need to be a part of. But Jeremiah 29:11 sustained me when I wondered what we were doing, where we were going, and it is still my daily mantra. Whether or not you believe in a higher being, the essence of the words remain the same.
We had thought we had it all figured out before. Then it fell apart. The year away was about putting it all back together again, and then this year was about putting it into practice. I thought when we came home some sort of ‘a-ha moment’ would strike and we would live happily ever after. Of course. Isn’t that the way it works? Oh Emma. I’m starting to realise that our year away of self-discovery can’t be boxed up and filed away, neat and finished. It will be forever ongoing. It’s this weird little thing called life. Decisions, changes, plans, wrong turns, right turns, choices. Life.
Lots of our friends and siblings have done the obligatory trek to Europe in their early 20’s, lived in London for awhile, maybe a Contiki tour, eat some baguettes in Paris, go to Oktoberfest, the usual. When they return home there’s that twitchy phase, everyone recognises it, they’re unsettled, they missed home but now they’re back and nothing seems to have changed. Yet everything has changed.
We didn’t do that Europe trek after uni, we worked instead, fell in love, got some dogs, got married, worked some more. But I’ve been feeling like that recently. Unsure, unsettled, questioning. We left after getting married in late 2011, now 18 months later so much has changed, but so much is the same. It’s strange and unsettling and it doesn’t sit well with me at all. For the past four months since moving here I’ve questioned whether we made the right decision. We’ve recently made the decision that yes this is where we are meant to be. For now. Simply making the decision is freeing and revealing all at once.
Soon I will plant some things in my garden in the ground. Yes, I will. And I will bloom wherever I am planted. Sometimes making the decision to bloom is the hardest part though.