Less than 100 days until baby. I’m keeping these words close:

“Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.”
—Kahlil Gibran, “On Children”

To be a vehicle for Life’s longing for itself… that’s how I see art and the creative process. It’s how I see farming. And it’s how I’d like to do motherhood, too.

I had planned on spending my 30th birthday somewhere deep in the Oregon backcountry, horseback. Then, around Christmas, we got a little news that turned into this growing belly.

I hear motherhood is a lot about adapting to changed plans.

And while part of me is sorry to see the adventuring years of my 20s go, another part of me is more than happy to say bye-bye to all that angst and wandering.

I’m glad I can step into a new decade here, at home, with the people who make it home. Glad my life is full of flowers. The big mountains will still be there when we’re ready to tackle them as a gang of three.

Happy Mother’s Day to all of you mamas. It means something new to me this year. 💕