Each year our ministry hosts a spaghetti fundraiser dinner right before our town’s Christmas parade. I had big plans of letting the kids attack massive plates of spaghetti before attending a birthday party and watching the parade. But like a lot of my plans, I have had to tweak to them. This morning my daughter woke up with a ruptured ear drum, and she has a very festive dark red goo coming out of her ear. So instead of a quiet morning of writing I’ve had a hectic morning of shortened naps complete with a visit to the doctor. On top of all this my Son is cutting more teeth and he is beyond crabby. His moods swing between totally elated and absolutely pissed off. I love him, but he’s fickle and about 80% of the time I have no idea what his issue is.
During one of his mysterious mini-meltdowns God took me back a year. Last year on the night of the spaghetti dinner we were in the hospital because of some weird contractions I was having. The third trimester of my pregnancy with my son was stressful, wound up in the ER several times. My mom had just taken her life and somewhere in my panic and doubt I doubted if my Son would get here safely. My world just didn’t feel like a safe place and I truly believed that all my grief and stress was harming him. I was so ready to have him, to hold him, to know he was safe in my arms. I wanted him to enter the world and see light, to feel warmth and joy, to be held by his Dad and so many others who loved him as much as I did. I felt as though all I could provide him was a sad space, crushed by the weight of my heavy heart.
A year ago today was dark, and I spent the evening hooked up to monitors, desperate to meet our son. And now he’s here, with his fuzzy blonde hair and his ridiculously beautiful blue eyes squawking in the living room because he can’t have the remote. I have everything I wanted a year ago, and abundantly more. So in spite of brick red ear goop and my crabby son, I want to focus on how today is an answer to prayer, no matter what comes my way.