the meadow

On a fresh May morning I met Jessica and Sarah in the meadow with their baby girls. They pulled out handmade dresses and fussed over the babies, coaxing them to smile and shielding their faces from sunburn. And it was delicious just to be with them, to admire their little ones and drink in their joy.

Sarah and Jessica are sisters, and as Jessica suffered infertility and then a failed adoption, Sarah buried her first child– a baby boy. They know pain.

And now, they live near each other and near their mother and darling sister Mary and they spend happy afternoons playing with the babies, sewing pretty dresses and taking long walks (mixed in with working and laundry and all that). They are in one of life’s meadows– the peaceful happy haven between dry deserts and rocky mountain passes (read Blue’s beautiful essay here).

Only a fool rushes through the flowers and orchards to tackle the next peak. You must roll through the dandelions with grass tickling your legs and fluff filling your ears and know, you must lie beside a stream and witness tadpoles transforming into frog, you must pluck apples from low hanging branches and eat them in the sun with juice dripping from your elbows.