Choosing to Bloom

"Bloom Where You Are Planted." I"m pretty sure I saw that needle-pointed on a pillow somewhere...or maybe sketched in bright happy colors by Mary Englebright? Regardless, it's become my mantra lately as I've had a nasty, embarrassing case of the "envies" lately, and I'm trying really hard to get rid of it. Contentment does not come naturally or easily for me. Perhaps it's what makes me creative and driven, but it also prevents me from feeling present and happy and grateful much of the time. I don't like that about myself, and I'm trying to change it.

My brain has been ridiculously preoccupied lately with creating the "perfect" home for my family. You know: three bedroom, two bathroom house on a quiet, tree-lined street with just enough land for a big garden and some room for the kids to run. Playroom. Lots of windows to let in the natural light. A table big enough to host a holiday meal. Vintage/farmhouse decor with just enough modern flair thrown in to make my husband feel like his taste is reflected, too. Good school district. Walkability to parks, groceries, coffee shops, a library. Friendly neighbors.

I've spent a lot of time creating this "perfect" home in my mind and imagining all the ways it would benefit my family. My kids would sleep better if they had their own rooms. I would sleep better if there wasn't so much road noise. We could grow so much more food and save more food if we had more land. The list goes on and on. And then I start to get even more myopic and think things like, "I'm 33 and I've never picked out my own couch." "I would feel so much less anxiety if I saw actual trees out my front window instead of power lines and a busy street." "

It's embarrassing. I can't believe I'm admitting all of this.

Someday, I really do hope to have a home on a quiet(er) street with a few more trees and a bit more land. My girl and my boy will eventually need separate rooms, and I sure hope I get to pick out my own couch before I'm 40. But all of that isn't going to create unity and warmth and tenderness in my family. It's not going to teach my children about Jesus or how to be kind to others or foster their creativity. This is their home whether there is the perfect vintage/farmhouse/modern decor or not, and maybe spending the first waking minutes of each day giggling with your only sibling is more valuable in the long run than getting the best possible night's sleep.

The thing is: we are solidly planted in our little home here in North Portland. The economy being what it is, we cannot sell our home anytime in the near future. But lately, I have started to feel this not as a claustrophobic limitation but as a blessing. I know that neighbor Kristin opens her curtains every morning just as insanely early as I do. Neighbor Chuck picks up lattes every single morning, and his girlfriend Cynthia watered my tomatoes last year when I was too exhausted to remember to do it myself. Nolan (4) and Madeline (2) live to the right of us and Lavi (5) and Mayim (2) live to the left of us. Pam across the street put out a second lit angel at Christmas because Maddie told her how much she liked the original one. We borrow and lend tools regularly with neighbor Shane and neighbor Aaron. I've given a few hand-me-down baby things (and some Christmas sticky buns) to the very young couple across the street with their first baby. This kind of familiarity takes time to build, and I now see that the possibilities for service and friendship here in our little patch of Portland are unlimited.

Furthermore, the park behind our house (which is already pretty great) is getting a massive makeover this spring/summer to make it an inclusive space for children of all abilities. The elementary school behind the park is one of the few in our public school district that is actually thriving. My sister and her husband are house-hunting in our neighborhood, and -- icing on the cake -- we just learned that our beloved church, Mosaic, is launching Mosaic North Portland sometime in the near future.

Deep, lovely, nutrient seeking roots, and I can't wait to experience the garden full of blooms they will surely produce...