image info: the product of my labors last October
I woke up very early this morning and couldn't fall back asleep. It reminded me of the immediate days following the birth (or death, however you want to put it) of our twins when I'd wake up with thoughts of them waking me before the light of morning could do its job. It was extra dark this morning, with rain clouds hiding the moon and stars. I sat in silence for a while, soothed by the ticking of a clock. I wandered through the feelings in my heart, finding gratitude for the deepness of emotion that it now knows, while slowly watching morning arrive. It's amazing, really, to watch the very gradual change as the darkness of night dissipates with the power and reach of the sun.
This time of year has brought with it a wide range of emotions, most of them I have been anticipating. Many of the emotions have surrounded flashbacks to a year ago - the joyful tears of finding out our miracle had come, the anticipation of our dream of having a family together was coming true, the dawn was finally marking the end of a long, dark night of waiting. I wish that reminiscning back to those early moments of pregnancy still produced joyful tears... how could they though? It's hard to separate the feelings of joy and pain. I will never lose hope that one day we'll feel that overwhelming joy again... knowing it will run deeper, filling the deep crevasses of pain that have carved their way through my heart.
My thoughts have turned to the ever-constant reminders of the beauty and newness of Spring. There is evidence all around me that life continues, that winter has an end, that blossoms always find a way to bloom again. I've been especially intrigued by the bulbs I planted last October, those potential flowers laid deep in the earth, surviving the harsh, frozen ground, being so gently encouraged to bloom by the warmth of the sun. I've found joy in watching those bright daffodils bloom. And, I've found courage in the process of their growth.
Christmas has always been The Big Holiday of the year. The birth of the Son of God is a big deal, afterall. My celebrations of Easter haven't ever been as big or meaningful. But, I want that to change. I want Easter, with emphasis on its true meaning, to be just as celebrated as Christmas. To focus on the perfect Christ-child who grew into a perfect man, completing His life's missions, leading to the culminating events of His life that fulfilled The Plan. He was the only one able to overcome the two deaths that we are subject to as mortals - spiritual death and physical death. He suffered. He died. And just like He promised - three days later he broke the bands of death.
That bitter death that seems so cold and lonely and endless. He took that away. He did that for you. He did it for those you love who have died. He did that for me; for my little girls - Elliana and Emmaline. Because of Him I will be with them again. His resurrection has never meant more to me than it now does.
There is still pain, but there is also a purpose in that. As we have navigated through the last eight months, I have learned the lengths that the Savior will go to reach us in our darkest hours. Just like the sun's rays reach far and wide to break the darkness of night, the Son of God has reached us in our deepest moments of pain; He has gone into those dark corners of our hearts. I've learned confidence in His concern for me, and in His ability to bring comfort and healing to my heart. His love and perfect understanding of my pain fills my heart with warmth.
While I've always loved this time of year, words cannot adequately express what it means to me this year.
New life.
Renewal.
Hope.
All because of Him.
Why weepest thou - by Simon Dewey
