some of my wreaths this year
I’ve heard the Christmas story numerous times. One of Truman’s books simplifies it quite beautifully. We got to the part about the angels singing glories and Wilder whispered, angels are everywhere, Mommy. They are in this room right now, we just can’t see them. They are going like this and this and this (and he gestures to show they are covering the living room ceiling, like a hedge of protection). To which I responded, Yes, Wilder, they absolutely are here protecting us. His deep child faith arrowed straight to my spirit and I was reminded to pray more frequently for safety. I have been so focused on the this season of not-knowing that I have faltered in my prayer life.
16 years ago I graduated high school.
11 years ago we bought our first home.
Nearly 8 years ago I birthed our first baby.
Nearly 3 years ago Story had the most epic birthday party complete with a live pony.
Nearly 3 years ago Truman arrived earth side in the calming bath waters.
A few months ago Wilder went to his first day of first grade, and Story to Kindergarten (insert bawling face emoji).
So many pinnacles in this journey. So many things that have made me the proudest, most complete version of who I am. Then there have been those moments of heart-wrenching tension and pressing and pressure and ripping and hurting. Words and actions that can’t be taken back. It’s a constant fight to not live in the past or let that pain define me. Onward and upward has become my new motto.
I know it’s been about two thousand years since I wrote a blog entry. I was in such a different place then. Yes, I let the words flow from my heart, but they were also carefully edited so there wouldn’t be a “man this chick is nuts” kind of response. And there are things I wanted to be private about, and still do.
The babies are flourishing and I just look at them and can’t thank God enough for giving me these super cool people to look after. I’m a huge work in progress as a mother (aren’t we all, in our fallibility?), and therefore just take it one day at a time. We don’t fill our time with travel or doing lavish things…we spend a lot of time outside and thrift shopping. And cuddling. There’s lots of that.
I don’t know if I’ll go back to writing every day. I have a lot on my plate, as all of us with young children, bills, work, and commitments do. But it sure feels good to dust some cobwebs off the keyboard, and come back to a little piece of home. Even if I am a different person. Even if my life isn’t where I’d imagine it would be. Even if I have made mistakes. Everyone, everyone, everyone makes them. It’s only a waste if we don’t learn from wrong turns, trials, mistakes.
And at some point, we all deserve to find home again, a place of safety and acceptance.
So here I am.