Well, somehow, I’m 36 weeks pregnant.

It doesn’t quite feel real. I’ve been struggling to keep my head above water with Jake being in busy season, toddler parenting with all its milestones and meltdowns, regular homestead chores, and the aches and pains of third trimester. So nothing is prepared: I’m hoping the nesting instinct will kick in soon so I have the energy to gather all the needed supplies. If you have any recommendations for preparation for a second child — what worked or what didn’t for your family — I’d love to hear them.

Even though I’m partially in denial over the imminent arrival of our little girl, I still am painfully aware that my days of constant one-on-one time with Michael are drawing to a close. I try to cherish the sweet moments: quilting together, making cookies, snuggling and watching Little Bear; reading truck books over and over.

I love our little ritual of morning prayer, and how excited he gets to hold his little wooden cross, extinguish the candles, and kiss the icons. I love our adventures to Costco to look at forklifts, and our morning snuggles in bed. I know many of these things will stay the same, and many will change. I still hold on to each of these little moments, and they help hold me through the more difficult moments.

Recently, Michael had a pretty intense meltdown when he couldn’t have one of the toy trucks at the thrift store. The thing is, Michael still struggles with pronouncing his “t”s, and often replaces them with “f”s instead. So to all the scandalized old ladies at the thrift store with me, it appeared as though I was hauling a screaming toddler out of the store as he yelled “F*CK” at the top of his lungs.

That was an interesting day. Also, a great lesson in humility and not caring about the opinions of others. Parenthood sure is sanctifying.

As a brief aside, I will not make a habit of writing about my children’s struggles: there are many things that I believe shouldn’t be used as content, even in a simple blog about a homesteading family. But this story is a little different — I think it’s one he’d want preserved so we could laugh at it when he’s older. So I’m comfortable sharing it with all of you, too.

Together, Michael and I finished his quilt at last! He loves it — he’s slept with it once and drags it around the house to “hide” under. I’m pretty proud of it, even though the back looks a bit wonky. Now I’m working on hand-quilting my Irish Chain quilt. It’s very slow going — I’ll be surprised if I finish it before next winter — but I’m greatly enjoying the process.

Knowing my time for making will be very limited in the upcoming months, I’ve been intentionally prioritizing spinning, quilting, and sewing over knitting in the evenings . I can knit with a newborn in my arms — it’s a bit harder to do any other craft. I finished my 3-ply spin of this Rambouillet, Knee High to a Grasshopper, dyed by Nest Fiber. It’s hard to capture the color properly because it looks so different in different light. It turned out beautifully: a DK weight, about 120 grams of yarn in all. With the remnants of singles I had left over, I made this tiny 2 ply skein for fun.

Now I’m spinning a simple 2-ply from some fiber I’ve been saving: Quiet Contrast, 100% Polwarth dyed by Three Waters Farms. I love the colors so much. I’m hoping it’ll be a nice fingering/sock weight.

My birthday was earlier this month and my husband got me the most spectacular present: a Lord of the Rings keyboard, fashioned after the style of Rohan. It’s the best keyboard I’ve ever had, and I adore it.

Not only is it beautiful, but it’s an excellent keyboard. As a writer, I’m a bit particular when it comes to my tools: I have a favorite type of pen (nothing beats the Pilot G-2 0.38), and the way a keyboard types can make a big difference in my enjoyment of the writing experience. Usually, I write my blog posts on my phone and jot down snippets and story ideas in my Notes app. But now with such a beautiful keyboard, I’ve started writing at my desk again. It’s helped me set aside time to write, like I set aside time to craft.

This concept of setting aside time by prioritizing and marking something as special or precious has been on my mind a lot this month. It reminds me of the church calendar. Each day has some way it’s set aside, whether to commemorate a saint, or an event in the life of our Lord.

Recently, we celebrated the feast day of St. Melangell (pronounced Mel-LAN-geth). St Melangell is one of the saints very dear to us. This Western Orthodox parish claims her as their patron and has such a lovely retelling of her story, if you want to know more about her. Animals fled to her for refuge (specifically rabbits/hares), and a king was so touched by her dedication and piety he gave her land to live on, which eventually became a monastic community. She is known for making a sanctuary for animals and people, which is why she is so important to our family: our hope for our little homestead is for it to be a sanctuary to all who come.

It would’ve been easier to just “remember” her on her feast day, but we wanted to set aside this time in a more intentional way. She’s a Welsh saint, so we made Welsh cakes to celebrate. Michael loved the entire process, and was most excited to roll out (and eat) the biscuit dough.

It was a lovely (and delicious!) way to set aside time to remember this holy woman and all the ways we wish to emulate her.

Holy also means “set apart”. To make something holy is to set it apart from the mundane, to offer it up. This is one of the reasons I love integrating the church calendar into daily life, not just Sundays. When we orient meals, activities, and conversations around saints and events in the life of Christ, we are setting apart our days — we are hallowing our time.

But we all have work we must do: much of which might feel like a distraction from prayer. Jobs and obligations might not allow for baking Welsh cakes. A toddler meltdown might destroy our vision for a fun activity. Illness, physical or mental, might interfere with the best of plans and intentions. And there are always things that demand to be done: meetings to attend, meals to cook, poopy diapers to change, tests to study for, emails to write, messes to clean, job obligations to complete; meltdowns to diffuse.

But we still have the ability to make our time holy, in spite of all these things. We can still integrate the life of the church into our daily lives. It brings me back to the simple phrase of Saint Benedict: ora et labora, pray and work.

Even if we don’t have the ability to do something elaborate to integrate a specific feast day into our lives, we can still use prayer to sanctify the work we are doing. A simple Lord have mercy before a meeting with a difficult coworker, or on a tiring commute. Meeting a tired child where they’re at by relinquishing our desire for picture-perfect activities. Talking about an important event in the life of Christ during bath time or dinner time. Using lunch break for a quick akathist or rosary. Doing the dishes because you love the people who will use them next (shamelessly paraphrasing St Teresa of Calcutta).

More and more often, I’m convicted by this: both what we make time for and what we make of our time, in the end, is what shapes and defines us. It’s so easy for me to tune out on my phone or rush through whatever work I have in front of me without thinking that this moment, too, could be sanctified with intention and thought. But I am increasingly aware of how finite our time is as I near my due date, as I watch my little boy grow, as I tend to my garden; as I say goodbye to loved ones.

May the Lord help me use what I’ve been given well.