My mind’s too tired to think of any poetry at the moment. I’m feeling pretty fed up of pregnancy and just want to meet our baby boy now! Friends who we are journeying along with are having their babies and as I hold them and look down on them, I imagine what it will be like to hold and look at you. To feed you. To soothe you. To have you fall asleep. To hand you to family and friends. To hand you to your daddy, and be handed you by him. To watch him feed you, soothe you, change you, talk to you and kiss you. We still have at least another month to wait, Caleb, and we are getting impatient! But there is still much to do, much to prepare. We had a party yesterday to celebrate you and those who could make it were just a tiny slither of the village who are going to be around you, helping to raise you. So many people are so excited for you, but none more than your mummy and daddy. Stay cooking in there, bub, and when you’re ready, we’ll be ready and we will love you so, so much.

A hidden secret

A small smile

A knowing glance

A yes deep within

Joy, love, fear intermingling within the space of a poppy seed

Soaring dreams and crushing doubts wash in and out on the shore of our minds

“Please hold on,” a whisper, a prayer, a wish.

A promise heard, a promise seen, a promise kept.

“Please hold on, little one, please hold on.”

From mid-June to mid-July this year, Sam and I attended four weddings and a funeral.

The weddings were riotous, joyous affairs with much laughing, dancing, eating and drinking as four young couples, brimming over with love and life, committed themselves to each other and a future that was full of potential and mystery.

The funeral was sombre and emotional, as we celebrated a life well lived through tears and smiles. We heard hilarious and brilliant stories of a man much loved who lived a full life with a woman he adored.

Before he died, my grandad said that he and my grandmum got married because they wanted to start a family. By the time the both of them had passed away, their family of two had grown to thirty three, including children, their spouses, grandchildren, their partners and great-grandchildren, with three more on the way.

My grandparents had a wedding over sixty years ago. I’m sure it was a riotous, joyous affair with much laughing, dancing, eating and drinking. They would have been young, brimming over with life and love, looking down the path stretching before them that held such promise. They couldn’t have known at that point the life they would have together. The joy, the pain, the thrilling blessings, the heart-breaking losses, the triumphs and the failures. But those of us at the funeral had the privilege to look back at that life, to give thanks for it and to be inspired by it. Their family, we, are their legacy. They fulfilled their ambition to start a family and that family, with all its flaws, keeps growing and thriving.

What do you want your legacy to be? I wonder whether my friends at their weddings were thinking about their legacy. About what they would be remembered for when their time comes. It’s not something we think much about. But sat in that pew, I had a think about mine, about ours, which may well be family too, in all senses of the word, blood and not. Who knows. But what I do know is that we have already seen so much of God’s faithfulness and goodness and I know we are yet to see it all. Thankfully He knows what our legacy will be, one that will hopefully bring Him much glory, and I’m content with that for now.

It’s been a long, tough week this week what with being ill and stressed at work. So today was necessary, a day good for the soul. Praise God, the weather was stunning; clear blue skies, sunny and, whilst not warm, not bitterly cold. The promise of Spring just around the corner. 

Sam and I spent the night in Bransgore with our close friend Omi, which in itself was life-giving and restful. We have been there a number of times and (if you’ve been there, you’d probably agree) it is a place that quietens the mind and soul. We spoke for hours over dinner, danced around the living room and ate chocolate, lounging on the sofa. Any time spent with Omi is energising, she’s the type of friend everyone needs at least one of.

In the morning we ate pancakes with Omi and Nai, another old uni friend, catching up on a few years! After introducing Nai to Hamilton (if you still don’t know it, check it out), we saw a photo of the newest member of our framily (friend family), Ezra Joel Russell. We love him already. 

Sam and I then had a trip to the beach where we lay on our fronts, the sand cool on our bellies and the sun warm on our faces. We laughed at dogs and small children running past, spoke of important things and watched the waves come rolling in. 

Now we are home, our hearts and cups full. 

Friends, days like this do not fix problems. They do not save the world. They do not erase pain, stop human trafficking or make money. What they do do is restore energy, refresh the mind and inject hope into life, thus enabling us to fight the worthy fight. We cannot pour from an empty cup and we cannot run with an empty tank. It is necessary, therefore, to stop every now and then. To go outside, put down our phones, close our eyes and listen to the crashing waves. God took a day of rest after creating the world, why would we think we don’t need that? So book it in, a day of rest and restoration. A day to spend with good friends over warming food. A day to breathe deeply and slowly. You need it.