After the tree and the villages were complete, we sprinkled a little Christmas throughout the rest of the house - Christmas hand towels in the bathroom, jingle bells on my vanity mirror...
And you know what? Sitting here in the cozy warm dark of my living room, with the tree lit up in front of me, sipping hot chocolate, I think - everything is okay.
My girls are tucked into their beds, and I am smiling thinking of the surprise on their faces when they wake up and discover this on their dresser.
Henry couldn't stay awake and missed out on all the tree decorating. He is snoozing in his crib. And I am smiling, thinking about when he wakes up at 5:30 tomorrow morning - I will get him up and bring him into the living room when it's still dark outside and everyone else is still asleep. I will get to see the look on his face when he sees his first Christmas tree.
I did all of my Christmas shopping online this year - two evenings in my pajamas on the couch, and everything will be delivered to my door by next Thursday. Living in 2010 is awesome. No rushing around, trying to find parking and standing in lines. This year, more than ever before, I am thankful for that. I felt too fragile to venture into the world - much less the retail world - this week.
Every night this week, meals have been delivered to our table in the loving arms of our friends. Our fridge and freezer are full of more food to get us through a few more days. I haven't had to leave the house all week, and because of that, my body has healed. Physically, I am doing great.
I miss my baby. I sometimes forget that I am not pregnant anymore, and remembering is hard. I feel disoriented - just when we had finally figured out the logistics of adding another member to our family, we have to rearrange our thoughts again. Every now and then I get lost pondering things that are too deep for me to understand, why's that may never get answered. And there are times - late at night, in the shower, when I am tired - that the tears come out of nowhere and won't stop until they are done. But I am buoyed by prayers, by cards and gifts and phone calls and texts and emails and blog comments and hugs, sitting up with a friend late at night talking on the porch swing for hours or on the phone until my ear is hot, or just sitting with Davis without needing to say anything at all. And most of all, I am held up by the Holy Spirit. I am not drowning, nor will I wither. I am sad, and I am afloat, and I will bloom again.
For tonight, I am just content to sit under the tree. A miracle is on the way.
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