Lucky

I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend.
Lucky to have been where I have been.
Lucky to be coming home again.
Lucky we're in love in every way. 
Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed.

 Ten years ago today, I married my perfect match.

I will be the very first to tell you that I am only mediocre at the romantics.  Flowers are nice every once in a while; however, love manifests for me in so many other forms:

Standing at the altar, promising to love and to cherish.

Honoring that promise during that first rocky year.

Promising we were in it together when our infertility was finally diagnosed as "my" problem.

Rejoicing with me four years later when we learned we were pregnant.

Holding me up when my heart was collapsing due to the loss of our first son.

Loving me through my fear when we learned our second child was on the way.

Making me proud when he took his oath of citizenship.

Crying with joy when we heard and saw Z's heartbeat for the first time.

Attending EVERY doctor's appointment with me.

Worrying about me to himself but only showing me strength.

Crying right along with me as our son cried his way into the world.

Rejoicing with me in our ups.

Standing firmly with me in our downs.

In the end, there is one resounding force behind it all: love.

Cliche as it might sound, I have been blessed to find the love of a lifetime.  I know how lucky I am to have been gifted with this time with my husband, and I take not even one second for granted.

The last ten years have been the best of my life.  My husband and I have grown over the years.  We have grown wiser.  Grown separately as people.  Grown as parents.  And most importantly, we have grown together.

So today, I rejoice in the day we went from him and me to us.  I am looking forward to every other second we are granted together.

I cannot wait to see what each one brings us.

This Christmas

Each year, one of the houses on my way home from work becomes a veritable smorgasboard of Christmas light merriment.  There are Santas, bears, Nativity scenes, a dragon, a ship...and more.  And all of this is set to music.  Pull up in front of the house and roll down the window and Christmas Carols fill the air.

Every year before this one, I couldn't believe that someone would put all of this in one yard.  Don't get me wrong, it's still a lot more decoration than I would choose for my yard.  But it's not my yard.

I will be quite honest.  When I first planned this post, it had a different feel to it.  It was still my Scrooge-y thinking.  I started out thinking that there was no reason for a person to have that much stuff.

As the days of Advent passed and our family was drawn more and more into the anticipation and true feeling around the season, I really began to see why people love this time of year.   The fun, the wonderment, the all-around good feelings that seem to be sizzling in the air around us all.   There is so much to be learned and gained from this time of year.  I watched the pure child excitement from my son and have been completely caught up in it with him.

And that includes the lights.  I have begun to look at them in a different light.  Yes, there might be more than I would put in my yard.  But, what if the people who live in the house are simply trying to share the joy they feel during the Christmas season with others?  The display has grown over the years, and I would like to think it is because the joy of the season has grown in the hearts of those who own the house.

This Christmas has been about renewed hope, new traditions, and a new outlook on many of the aspects of our family life.

And while Christmas is still not my favorite holiday (St. Patrick's Day still winning top honors), it is certainly mow running a close second.

Birthday Blessings

I have decided that we all approach our birthdays in different ways.  First, there is trepidation.  We worry about getting older. We fret about all the things we wanted to do and didn't.    Next, there is ambivalence.  It is simply another day in life.  Nothing more, nothing less.

And then, there are those who look on their birthday with joy.  Joy for having been given another year to live life, be with family, share with friends. That's not to say there is only one choice. Every birthday is different.

Today, on my birthday, there is joy.  I am well and truly blessed. I also started the day with tears.  The good kind.

The morning started off with my wonderful husband bringing me these beautiful roses:

You have to understand the type of relationship we have to understand how sweet this is.   I will be the first to tell you that I am not primarily a romantic person.  My husband is a fantastic mate, partner, husband, father, etc.  He does so very much for me to help me be a better person.  So, when flowers show up, they are even more special because they are not the most common way we express love.

And I would have it no other way.

He also brought me what has to be the sweetest card EVER.  For a man who can be silent, he does a phenomenal job at finding what he wants to say in the middle of a Hallmark card.

After work, I thought I'd go have a birthday dinner with myself.  A little time alone to celebrate me. That idea lasted for about five minutes.

Birthdays are about love and togetherness for me.  So, hubs had to work. So what?  Ziggy was still at home. And while he might not fully understand the "specialness" of birthdays.  I do, and I wanted to spend it with him. Instead of a steak and veggies and free birthday cheesecake, I had Sloppy Joe's made with my son.  One of the best birthday dinners to date.

The day started with tears. The day ends with them as well. Both times, good tears.  My day has been one of joy. Thankfulness for another year of life.  Appreciation for more love than I ever could have imagined.

And anticipation for what the next year (if I am again so blessed to have it) will bring.

Lessons and Carols

When it comes to Christmas carols, I am a traditionalist.  I love Bing and Nat.  I enjoy the simple melodies of Oh Come, All Ye Faithful and O Come, O Come Emmanuel. 

For the last couple of weeks, I have seen the Lessons and Carols in the announcements.  For once, I actually didn't research it (I know, right?).  I don't think I actually made a final decision about going until after service this morning.  Mrs. Jo  is a wonderful, wonderful lady at St. Paul's to whom Z has taken a liking.  She is so very sweet and asked if we were going to be there later.

That's all it took.

Z then asked me over and over again if we were going.  Who was I to say no?  Stipulation:  must have a nap.  It's been a while since he has gone to sleep that fast.

I know that society tries to teach us that life is all about excelling, standing out, and that bigger is better.

That is SO not my way of life.  I like simple. I like pure beauty.  I find beauty in all of life, not just what society tells me what is beautiful. I find it in nature, in watching a child learn something new, in an elderly couple with stars still in their eyes.

The service tonight was the epitome of beauty.  The Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols is comprised of nine Biblical selections about man's fall, the promised Messiah, and Christ's birth all interwoven with musical selections.  These musical selections are sang by the choir, children's choir, and/or the congregation.

There is little in life that matches the beauty found in the sound of a few hundred voices lifted in song together to rejoice in His coming.

Traditional. Simple.  Beautiful.

Pick One

It never ceases to amaze me the boxes we try to put each other and ourselves in.  We want categories: black, white, gay, straight, fat, thin, short, tall, smart, not-so-much...boy, girl.

I am not now, nor have I really ever been, a fan of the box ideology.  I don't get why I can't just be me, whoever that is.  And I will be the first to tell you that it probably changes daily.

That's also why I try to prevent putting my own child in a little box.  Take this afternoon for example. We have started a family tradition on Sundays.  After church, we hit the Big M for a happy meal.  They are very known for carrying two different toy campaigns at once.  Currently, the choices are Transformers figures or Sanrio watches.   This, of course, leads to the economical way to ask which toy a child would like.  When I placed my order today, I got the expected "is that toy for a boy or girl?"

The manager I worked for was quite unique in this regard.  When I worked for the Big M in high school, she  was adamant that we asked in terms of the campaign.  She wanted no parent to feel compelled to place his/her child in the gender box.  So, today, when I was asked that question, I responded with "a Sanrio watch, please."

I won't put my child in a box.  He watches Dora AND Diego.  He has Transformers AND Sanrio watches.  He likes Scooby Doo AND Disney Princesses. He plays with cars AND cuddles his teddy bears.

I don't want my child to pick one.  I want him to be free to like what he likes and be who he is.

Whoever that is.

And even if it changes every day.

Out of Place

My entire life, I have felt on the edge.  In school, I wasn't exactly a standout.  I did well academically, but while there were those around me who had one subject they excelled at over the others, I didn't.  I was the jack of all trades and the master of none.

This has really continued into my adult life.  As I have gotten older, I have probably become more and more guarded.  With a hidden desire to find my place, this doesn't really help me reach that end.   I want to feel like I have a place, I am just not sure really how to find it.

My self-esteem issues as a child and young adult have passed into my adult life in some aspects.  I want to be accepted for who I am, even though I am still learning who that is.  I spent such a great deal of time being looked over that I am not exactly sure what it feels like to be looked at. 

Six weeks ago, I decided to make a major change for us as a family.  My son and I started to attend St. Paul's Episcopal Church at the advice of some wonderful people.  It was a huge change, but I believe change, when entered into at the best time, is a good thing.  When I first started attending, I was amazed at how friendly and welcoming everyone seemed to be. I was cautiously optimistic, really waiting for it to change.

It had been such a long time since I felt that warm, welcoming feeling that I had grown accustomed to cold distance. I am fairly confident that this isn't how you are supposed to feel in church, but it had become that way.  I felt like I was opening myself up to those around me (in our old church) and not feeling much in return.  My method of stepping out is to take a couple of steps forward and wait for the same to be done on the other side.  Over time, we meet in the middle.  I felt like I was walking across a never-ending chasm.  That no matter how many steps I took, I would never reach the other side.

Since we started attending St. Paul's, I have felt such a renewed lease on belonging.  I have begun to believe that the welcoming nature of the people in this church is at their heart, not just how it will be in the beginning.  A couple of weeks ago, I decided to ask for a nametag to be made.  St. Paul's does this so that people can get to know one another.  For me, making this small decision was the first step on a journey to be a part of something.   I feel like a piece of the whole.  In a world where most people fight to stand out, I simply want to fit in.   And at St. Paul's, I do.

Even without that nametag, I have never felt more welcome.  People I have never met before greet me weekly like I am an old friend.  My son has been cuddled and coddled and has been more open than I have ever seen him.  

Each week, I feel more and more like this was the right decision for us.  I know that this is just a small, small step on a much longer journey.  I am enjoying journey and following the road before me.

I can't wait to see where it leads.