My love of gardening was cultivated by my parents who gardened ever since I remember. My father's parents also gardened. My most vivid memories of summers growing up included canning and freezing a myriad of fruits and vegetables. There is nothing as satisfying as looking in your pantry or freezer and seeing all the fruits of your labors waiting to sustain you through the winter.
Gardening in the extreme North takes quite a bit more effort than gardening in Michigan. You can't just throw a seed in the ground and expect it to produce bushels. I've learned to savor every tomato that I can get out of my greenhouse. I remember wishing that the green bean plants would die after picking 5-gallon buckets full in Michigan. Now, it's only in the greenhouse that I get enough for a meal and canning. The labor that I put into gardening seems multiplied many times compared to what I get out of it, but my attitude toward what is produced is somehow different.
Today Natalie and I went out to the garden to pick broccoli. Natalie was very adamant about cutting the broccoli flowerettes off with a knife this time..."all by myself." I protested at first then remembered how young Heidi was when she learned to be responsible with a knife. After a bit of coaching (which I'm not sure she really needed) she cut the whole harvest today with a knife. She did a really good job too. It's so fun to see young ones get excited about working outside with their hands, but it's a bit hard to let go sometimes.
While contemplating my growing babies, I found myself reminiscing once again back to the circumstances around Natalie's birth. Heidi was about as old as Natalie is now when Natalie was born and Jessica was Craig's age. I remember agonizing over how my separation from them for months when Natalie was in the hospital would affect them. I worried about Jessie who wouldn't ever talk to me on the phone. Family members were concerned when she would play with her baby doll and talk about her dying. Heidi would talk to me briefly on the phone, and occasionally ask about Natalie, but our conversations were short. When Heidi and Jessica eventually joined me in Seattle a month before Natalie came home, they were cared for three different people while I was advocating for Natalie in the hospital.
When I talk with Heidi and Jessica about their experiences when Natalie was born and in the hospital, it's only Heidi who has recognizable memories of those times and the emotions that surround it. Jessica will remember the playground at Ronald McDonald House or Heidi's birthday party, but at three years old, she really didn't completely take in the whole concept of what was going on.
When I think about the "labor" that went into those four to six months of my oldest girls lives (all the people who helped out, all the shuffling back and forth between baby-sitters when Tim was at work, all the Dora the Explorer that they watched while I was pumping, the long trips to Anchorage to take Natalie to her doctor's appointments, the tube feedings of their sister and the owies she had), at the time, my heart cried out that it was too much. I worried that they would be scarred for life from the experiences they were having. But out of all that labor of love, I've gotten two very caring daughters who love their little sister (and brother). While they have their typical spats and girly feuds, they realize that having Natalie here with us is something special.
As the girls get older, Heidi and Jess pick up on non-verbal cues when time approaches for Natalie's doctor's appointments or trips to Seattle for heart caths or surgery. They "get" why mom is crying and preoccupied. They know that Natalie is going to have another surgery sometime and I think there is an underlying concern there. Life is normal, except when there is an appointment or trip and we are reminded once again, that Natalie is living with a very special heart that needs lots of TLC.
So today, when it was just Natalie and I out there picking broccoli, I thanked God that we could savor such wonderful home-grown vegetables after all our labor. And just as I savor the sweetness of a juicy-ripe tomato after all it takes to be grown, I thanked God for how sweet He can make life seem after a trial or time of testing. I thanked Him that my children have been spared from deepest heartache and yet still learned to appreciate the value and fragileness of life. As I put on the screen savor of my phone while I was in Seattle right after Natalie was born, "God is good!"...all the time.
