Houston, this is Tranquility

| Care, Just for Fun

Hello from Holly.

Houston, this is Tranquility. We have a problem.



I do not remember agreeing to this.

I remember agreeing to, “Let’s have a baby,” but I do not remember agreeing to growth and development and grade school and, “Mom, that shirt looks totally cute on you.”

I agreed to “glubs” and “bwackberry wipstick.”

I distinctly remember agreeing to that funny little post-baby stage where it’s all arms outstretched “hold you” or half-eaten unwashed strawberries sneakily snuck back into the clam shell.



I definitely agreed to naked little post-bath time booties and “pretend I’m a baby,” and swaddling her up as tight as that bath towel will allow to sit on the potty lid and squeeze her and call to her sister, “Look what I found on the doorstep! It’s a brand new baby.”

And Bitty E comes in freshly pj’ed and pats her on the head and says, “Let’s call her Lucky.”

“My name is Bitty G,” the newborn suddenly speaks.

“Let’s make her middle name Lucky,” that’s me–always the voice of reason–“cause she never remembers her middle name anyway.”

And then the baby speaks, “watch me crawl,” and jumps her Coppertone booty onto the bathroom floor and it’s all “ooh’s” and “ga-gah’s” and they’re off, off to their next adventure, and the moment is gone. Poof. Real life happening now. The green beans are growing.

These moments can pass still and slow. They can take their sweet time, find a good spot to set up camp so my memory can lock on, and I can be reminded to squeeze just a little bit tighter.

The green beans help me remember.

Because two weeks ago their abundance housed the live birth of bunnies, two days later they held seed, and today they look like this.



“Bring that nakedness in here and let me brush your teeth.”

“Mom, I’m not naked. I’m wearing a necklace.”

Of course you’re not, Lucky. And there’s really no luck about it, anyway. Green beans or toothless grins, it’s all the goodness and sweetness of a Providence we don’t always understand.

Be still and know. “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

About Holly Mackle

Holly Mackle is a wife, mama of two flower-sneaking bitties, and garden blogger at Digging Suburbia. She could never be a Disney princess as she picks constant fights with small woodland creatures. Holly is the author of Little Hearts, Prepare Him Room and the editor of In her free time, she enjoys both pop culture and theological podcasts, baking through Pioneer Woman’s recipes, and using every gardening metaphor possible to explain life to her girls. She does not enjoy chasing rabbits away from her green beans.

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