East of Eden
there really is a garden where food is always in season. just when one ripe fruit falls off the tree, another takes its place. there is a knowing that we are made for the land and the land is made for us; eating is the completion of a good circle. in this place, our hearts are full too. there is a comfortable knowing between two people and company is more than just physical. all of creation lives in each heart yet each life pulled apart is whole and complete. work and food and people and sun and sky move together just right. all of life spins on one axis.
work, food, people, sun and sky: my life has all of these things too. i bet the moment Adam and Eve fell, their world torn apart, nothing changed around them physically. life outside the garden looks so much the same as in, yet everything feels different. everything is different in the heart, where it matters.
up to this point, I have lived this pregnancy outside of the garden and it has been all i could do to just make this baby. writing, praying, naming a person, which have all been joys before, are gone. creativity is Eden’s gift.
ben and i took a long drive in the country today. the land is giving way to winter and the barns glow red more now than in the summer. stretching fields bending under the seasons remind me of God’s expansive, faithful love, that with Him all these things that are crashing in me have worked in harmony before.
i do not say all of this to be sad or to conjure compassion, but simply to write from my heart. tomorrow i would like to pick up a journal from Barnes and Noble on my way home from work. with a steady diet of psalms and proverbs and writing prayers, i hope to return to Eden and clear the weeds that have grown in my absence.