Lately

We are in limbo. Really and truly. Slated to go one direction, then the road changed and now we're sitting at the stoplight way past when we planned. On the surface it has been more than easy for me to keep doing what I'm doing. As Elisabeth Eliot says, "When you feel overwhelmed by circumstances, just do the next thing." And that's what I've done. Quite well I thought.

But the past couple of weeks the suffocating heat of the unknown has taken away my freshness. the Proverbs have it right, "Without a plan, the people perish." I have been wilting by the day. Still able to keep up the tasks, the cheerful brave front when it counts. But deep inside is the wondering, the questions, "What next?" I long to plan for something, straighten out the disorder. Prepare. But how can you prepare without plans? "Can a man build a tower without first constructing a plan?" He cannot, not well.

Enter my husband. The steady oak to my weeping willow. The sunshine to my raincloud. The hug to my crossed arms. The smile to my look of worry. The soft whisper to my raucous shout. The twinkle to my blank stare. The flavor to my lack.

We may not know what comes next, but we can enjoy now. The 30 Rock in house band song, "It's Never too Late for Now" has been playing over and over in my head as I watch him enjoy now. And he has strengthened and encouraged me to set aside the whatifs and focus on the nowwhats. And what's now is our garden.

Carefully he planned and figured out the spacing, the cost, together we poured over seeds and flowers. Our dinner table conversations centered on soil depth and bean pole teepees and mulch. In the evenings while watching television or reading together we discussed garden pests and natural pesticides. He spent hours shopping for lumber, even more time building the garden box and constructing rabbit proof fences and teaching our little folks how to plant seeds.

And now it is finished. Beautifully so. A physical testament to enjoying right now. We don't know how soon we'll be sent elsewhere. Not sure if we will reap all the rewards of our garden, enjoy its bounty. But for now we can find assurance in the peaceful evenings pulling weeds, tucking the mulch around each plant a little snugger, misting it dutifully and waiting eagerly for the tiny buds. And right now, it's enough.