Nature and little humans sprout in spring

I have terrible spring allergies. Many of my childhood memories of Easter and Lenten Stations of the Cross are marked by the intensity of coughing, stinging eyes and general disagreement with the yellow dust coating every outdoor surface.

On the other hand, spring has become an exciting season. It’s the season of renewal and growth. And, it’s the season that I most visibly see growth in my tiny humans.

In my children’s daycare, they tend to a garden. And, they bring seeds from their garden home. So, we planted them. And, each day, the kids have loved checking in on their seedlings.

At first, it was slow going. Now, as the small green shoots emerge from the blackened earth, their excitement builds. What will it be? No one knows. It was, I believe, wildflowers, but we honestly have no idea what we’re expecting.

In addition to the natural world growing around us, I am increasingly reminded that my children are full-blown toddlers. But, I’m even more mindful of their empathy and care.

My youngest son has had developmental delays and still remains unsteady on his feet. As the weather warms and we find ourselves outside (because with three young children, there’s no possibility of containment indoors, even though my red, itchy eyes would like it to be otherwise), the boys are finding more and more things to jump around on or ride upon.

The twins have always been movers and shakers: Bikes, slides, climbing domes have been staples in their outdoor experience. Now, as Sydney tries to stabilize his walking, he loves his small bike – and what he loves most of all is being able to keep up with his brothers.

Last week, as Syd was trying to make his way outside, he fell over while trying to move too quickly. Immediately, the twins rushed over. One helped him up; the other told him it was OK and that accidents can happen. Their attempts at comfort were successful, and all three went off playing in the mud pit (what used to be a gardening spot).

And, just yesterday, as I fell over one of the dogs, I looked up to see my youngest – looking very concerned. “You otay, Mama?” he asked, his “k”s coming out as “t”s. The same empathy he had seen displayed by his brothers continues to grow in his concern over even the smallest incidents.

Growth.

This Lenten season, I’m reflecting not on my own growth – which could certainly use some work – but on that of my children. Physically – as the higher hems on their pant legs indicate – but, more importantly, emotionally and spiritually.

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