This year for Christmas, one of my very best girlfriends, Ashley, gave me the gifts of hope and joy. They are in the form of two beautiful, red felt needlepoint Christmas ornaments. I have not yet put them away, they are hanging from the knobs on the glass cabinet doors of our desk. I can see them when I sit in my favorite chair to read, do my daily devotionals, e-mail, mindlessly scroll through Pinterest, or simply to watch the snow fall.
Ashley gave these two ornaments to me as a wish for 2014. She knows the pain that I feel over the loss of my brother, and the worry and fear that I have over the difficulty my husband and I are having at starting a family. We so badly want to be parents, and it is proving to be very difficult.
Ashley is the kind of friend who cries for me. What I mean by that, is that she literally has tears rolling down her face when I cannot. Having a friend that loves like that has helped me to heal. Ashely's tears validate my pain; if my dear friend is crying for me, then it must truly be that bad. Beyond that, her tears make me feel loved.
When I opened my Christmas gift of hope and joy, I knew that Ash truly wanted those things for me. I want those things for myself. I want hope instead of the overwhelming sadness of losing Matt, and I want the joy of a new baby instead of the fear that it won't happen. I want to have hope for a joyful future.
For now, while I am waiting for the big and obvious gifts of hope and joy, I will work to remain content in the smaller ones. Last night, in the aftermath of our first failed IUI, I found joy...in two glasses of red wine (I've been in the fertility-challenged world of the "two-week-wait"), a massive cupcake, Downton Abbey, comfies, and my husband. Those few hours felt a little joyful, but mostly peaceful.
Where the challenge lies is when my alarm wakes me in the cold, dark, early morning hours. I open my eyes, blink, and remember...my brother is in heaven, we aren't pregnant, my brother is in heaven, we aren't pregnant, my brother is in heaven, we aren't pregnant...
So I roll over and pick up my phone. I have a text message from my mom. "Can I take you to lunch today?"
I'm not alone. I can have hope in knowing that I'm not alone. I have my husband, my mom and dad and sister, Ashley and all of my loving/devoted/compassionate/supportive girlfriends...and I have God. He has hope and joy in store for me.
For now...to remind me of His promise, I have them in the form of two Christmas ornaments, and cupcakes and wine.
Julia, thank you for being open, real, unafraid to share. Each time the snow falls, I will think of my grown duaghter, Julia, lying there in the cold, making an angel, looking up and KNOWING her brother is with the Lord. I will think of you sitting in your beautfiul, sunny chair on 100 16th street, holding on to Hope and Joy that you KNOW is there for you, for us. I will pray that a baby graces our lives sooner, then later, and that Matt will have already met that little one. I will keep believing and we will help one another.
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