Life continues to go on, we get up everyday, get the coffee going, watch as the cracks between the blinds covering the windows go slowly from dark to light as the day begins. This morning Noah got up way too early so I crawled back in his bed with him, asked if I could snuggle with him. He accepted.
I laid in the dark next to his little body, a mound of warmth and tiny breath. I couldn't see his face but I could imagine the outline: the curve of his nose and curl of his eyelashes.
Where has the time gone?
It seems I was just told I was pregnant with Ethan, a day and a feeling of awe I will never forget- and now Noah is three and Ethan will be seven on Tuesday.
SEVEN!
I am excited for 2013. Joey and I will celebrate nine years of marriage. My favorite author calls marriage "uncharted waters" and I have yet to come across a metaphor that is more true. Paradoxically, my marriage is home, familiar and safe. A refuge from the storm. I guess that's maybe the only way we get through the "uncharted waters" is by running to each other, to love, unselfish and forgiving love.
Love that is as new everyday as the sun pushing through my blinds, turning the night into the morning, over and over and over again.
The feeling, at least, of understanding what is going on.
Friday, December 28, 2012
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Twinkling Eyes and Rosey Cheeks, Restored.
We've begun our Christmas celebrations early this year because Joey will work the 24th and the 25th. We went over to my parents house last night for our annual "Christmas Eve" celebration and then this afternoon we will go to Joey's parents and celebrate Christmas there.
It snowed yesterday just for us, for our early Christmas. The boys got to make a snowman while I was teaching exercise and when I got home Noah's pink cheeks from the cold, coupled with his smile and twinkling eyes was Christmas enough for this mama.
Every time I look at my boys I can't help but think of Sandy Hook and how deep and wide the loss of their children in such an unconscionable way must feel like. I read Noah Posner's beautiful eulogy by his mama and looking at his rosey cheeks and sparkling eyes in his picture, I cried. It was a relieving rush of tears after hearing about the trajedy over a week ago and knowing how devastating it was but for whatever reason not being able to respond to it like it should be responded to: crying for the sheer maddness of it, a maddness that I guess at first caused rage (the only consolable thought I had when I heard what had happened was that Lanza would burn in hell for all eternity) and then finally saddness at the imeasurable loss of all those little lives, and the lives of the teachers and administrators who couragously gave their lives to try and save them.
It makes me think of Christmas a little differently this year, of that baby born sent from heaven for us. We are broken, He is whole. We are sick, He is healer. We are lost, He is the Way. And there will be a day when He will wipe every tear from our eyes and all things, including the children lost two Fridays ago, will be restored and made new.
It snowed yesterday just for us, for our early Christmas. The boys got to make a snowman while I was teaching exercise and when I got home Noah's pink cheeks from the cold, coupled with his smile and twinkling eyes was Christmas enough for this mama.
Every time I look at my boys I can't help but think of Sandy Hook and how deep and wide the loss of their children in such an unconscionable way must feel like. I read Noah Posner's beautiful eulogy by his mama and looking at his rosey cheeks and sparkling eyes in his picture, I cried. It was a relieving rush of tears after hearing about the trajedy over a week ago and knowing how devastating it was but for whatever reason not being able to respond to it like it should be responded to: crying for the sheer maddness of it, a maddness that I guess at first caused rage (the only consolable thought I had when I heard what had happened was that Lanza would burn in hell for all eternity) and then finally saddness at the imeasurable loss of all those little lives, and the lives of the teachers and administrators who couragously gave their lives to try and save them.
It makes me think of Christmas a little differently this year, of that baby born sent from heaven for us. We are broken, He is whole. We are sick, He is healer. We are lost, He is the Way. And there will be a day when He will wipe every tear from our eyes and all things, including the children lost two Fridays ago, will be restored and made new.
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