31 December 2008
29 December 2008
It's the sound of the clock ticking in the dining area ... and the purring of my laptop. Oh how SWEET the sound. The sound of silence.
I love people. I love being with people, talking with people, laughing with people. But I love silence too. It clears my head. And there is a lot going on in my head today. Thoughts of possible dreams coming true, thoughts of *ugh* dreams possibly not coming true. Thoughts of hard paths different friends are walking. Paths of financial stress, marital grief, physical illness.
And it seems, in these quiet moments, that all the loudness of laughter and noise just ripples away. What is left is the truth ... that life is full of blissful ups and devastating downs. We can't hide it with wide grins and empty banter. We're not meant to have it all together all the time.
We all know that it's the hardtimes that make the good times even sweeter. And as I enjoy the quietness of my evening, I know that right now is a good time. I will savour it, because who knows what tomorrow will hold for any of us.
How sweet to know that even when all is silent, that He is there.
27 December 2008
It was a great, great time. And I can't believe it's over until next year!! But our Christmas was JUST beginning ...
Our fondue has become a tradition, with battered mushrooms & cheese, steak, chicken and a host of other foods. It's a great thing to do, as it slows down your night and lets you have good conversation while you're cooking your food.
Josiah knows EXACTLY where the candies are hidden.
We even opened the kids stockings - although my husband was pushing for the adults to open at least one gift. But we all waiting for the next morning.
Baba and the boys put out chocolate milk and cookies for Frosty the Snowman - who conveniently lives in their backyard *smile*.
I don't know if any of you are the "photographer" of the family - but I am definitely that in both of ours. I'm not even sure if anyone else brings a camera - except for maybe my teenage nieces. So, I click away and then I put the pressure on myself to get them ready (edit) and send them out to all the family. I've totally created this habit on my own, and now our families are used to it ... so then comes the, "So, do you have our pictures yet?" *smile* But I deserve it ... I love taking them - but in such a busy week, getting them out is just another thing to do.
What I'd REALLY like to concentrate on, is finishing our Cruise scrapbooking. I've done 18 pages so far - and am on day 3 of 7. But now that I've gotten going on it, it shouldn't take long to finish it.
Here's a recap of our week ...
22 December 2008
19 December 2008
18 December 2008
17 December 2008
Yes - I s'pose it has.
But on this day, I stop. For today marks the anniversary of our loss. It was 3 years ago today where we had to say goodbye to Shalom Hope, and I find myself feeling like it was a lifetime ago.
I woke up this morning, nervous as to how I would feel. But I opened my eyes, looked around the room, and thought, "Hmmm. I think I'm ok. I think I feel just fine." Which is a strange, almost guilty way to feel. Because just a few days ago I couldn't even think of her without have a wet face. But today - well - the ache is just a dull one.
I continue to try and find balance with this whole thing. I had a friend this week feel that she needed to apologise for a comment regarding children (*smile* when she needn't) - not wanting me to think that she didn't validate the whole Shalom experience.
I told her that it happens to me on a weekly basis. Someone says, "Oh - you have just the two boys?". Um. No? Yes? Do I want to get into it with a stranger? If I say, "No, we lost our daughter 3 years ago," it just makes the person feel horrible. And if I say, "Yes, we have just the two," I feel this pang of remorse for not taking the opportunity to talk about her.
"Two boys, huh? So are you going to try for a girl?" Um. No? Yes? Am I supposed to say, "We already have a girl." Or do I say, "Fingers crossed ..." with some Cheshire grin??
"Oh, I so understand, I miscarried at 6 weeks." And this one is the hardest. Because I, too, have
miscarried and it is just as heartbreaking of a loss - of course. But the path of Shalom was such a lonely one - to have to choose. I still don't know of anyone with as unique as our own circumstances.
Last night, Lu and I talked for just a moment about it being December 17th. And he said, "Josiah is just the light of my life. I would walk it all again to have him here. It's all good." He's right. I would too. Not that I would want to lay Shalom's life down for Josiah ... but it is what it is and as I watch him run around the house, chasing cars and hearing the pitter-patter of his chubby feet ... it makes me smile.
December 17th is just another day.
But we will go see the Christmas lights (if this snow lets up a bit *grin*) and it is my most favourite thing to do. To be a family, all bundled up, drinking hot cocoa ... and it doesn't seem like a gloomy thing to do - like going to Shalom's grave. We haven't gone there in a while.
The lights are so cheery, and the boys will just love it. It seems like a healthy thing to do ... but I sometimes wonder if people think we're a bit wacko for doing it in memory of her.
So - that's where I'm at today ... feeling good, feeling strange, livin' life.