Sierra V. Fedorko

Since Ben and I moved into our little blue house in spring 2016 I’ve watched us and everything grow. It’s a beautiful time lapse in my mind with terribly hollow seasons that always left an aftermath of God’s hope and healing in their wake.

And in that wake the porch garden spilled into the yard and we chanced the roses in the ground and Ben made a gate from scraps, and we laughed at our lopsided flower bed, and soon brought our son home to flowers. We’d hang a baby swing and soon we would need a big kid swing. I’d choose a rose for my daughter and she’d lie on her colorful quilt until she danced by the rose bush that belongs to her.

Sunflowers slip into the kitchen window frame every year and toys are in the way. Ben comes in with a tiny peach from one of the fruit trees we planted nearly two years ago now. I take a bite and it tastes so good. Grainy, tiny, imperfect, but full of promise. Already better than those you’ll find in the grocery store.

It’s luxury, this little life.

We’ve put our roots down in this blue house and tended to our livelihood at this small and vibrant Christian camp, and have weathered the seasons in every bit of it. At almost 30 and nearly a decade into marriage I don’t feel threatened by the roads I could have gone or the things we could have done.

I’m just so happy to be here. To have roots this deep, to be experiencing the bloom of all those weathered seasons in the place God has given us to be and work and live.

So the following poem, This Little Life of Mine, has become a celebration of finally “choosing what you’re going to be when you grow up,” being happy about that choice, then putting those roots down and growing old in its bloom.

small
and grainy was that first peach
from the garden
of our youth,
tasted like the future, that first bite
by our kitchen sink
indulged
between all the chores and
morning things.
IT ISN’T MUCH
taunt
turns, and paths, and dreams,
and all unproven
shiny things.
so,
thick as thieves
rush all the roads
we will never
go.
but
I smile back at all of this,
and
it is almost smirking,
because I still love my soft, slow life,
and
I cannot be swayed.
I’ll take the future with quiet
peaches
the one with hardy
roots
the seasons of growth,
no fanfare,
the wonder of being still
without
the feeling of being
trapped.
still a harvest, still tasted
sweet,
still savoring that first
tiny peach, this little
life of mine.

–S.V.F., This Little Life of Mine

Staying faithful in and awake to the life and good work God has for you is blessing upon blessing. Not always easy or beautiful, but always worth it. I hope wherever you find yourself today you can see the quiet happiness in your “grown-up” life. I hope you have the courage to keep on in every ordinary rhythm and task.

Tiny peaches are everywhere.

We need only pick them, hold them in our hands, taste and see that the Lord is good.