Some places will always be nostalgic for me. The seaside restaurant where my husband proposed. My great grandfathers farm where I picked blueberries as a child. Kings Dominion (a theme park) where I braved my first roller and fell in love with daring feats. And the pumpkin farm….
We had been planning the trip to the pumpkin farm all month. The date had been carved out for the coming Saturday. Thursday afternoon my husband came home to show me the memory photo his phone had sent to him that day. It was the two of us, at the same pumpkin farm eight years earlier. We’ve attended every year faithfully since that first visit. I looked at the picture warmly.
Skip (my husband) and I had just decided that week to begin trying to start a family. I was so excited at the prospect. This had been my only real dream since I was a child: to be a mom. I didn’t know it then, but the coming years would be met with difficulty, sadness, and loss. It would be two and a half years before the Lord brought our first baby into our arms and not just into our hearts.
Whenever I step out onto that hay covered field I’m met with a rush of nostalgia for the Emily that was so excited to be a mom one day. This year as I watched my babes climb, play, and have all the pumpkin farm fun, I couldn’t help but be thankful for the things God has taught shaped in me these last 8 years.