Calendar Girl...

I used to write a lot of prose...but for the last couple of years, I just haven't gone in that direction. Probably because I'd rather blog, and prose tends to be morose (stop that rhyming, I mean it!).
Every year, I sit down and put together a photo calendar for the current year that's made up of pictures from the previous year. I also do a photo book. I have a nice collection--I have a book for every year except for our first year, and at some point, I'll get around to that. I also don't have one for our wedding, but I have a real scrapbook for that--I think that counts. I rarely print pictures; the digital albums I have are nice. When I upload digital pictures, I am careful to organize them by month so that these projects aren't monumental. I've streamlined it; I can get the year done in about an hour.
Last year's book is so tainted.
It's so HAPPY.
I mean, sickeningly happy.
I am not complaining--I've had too many years of sadness.
Going through those 2012 pictures--you can see the joy on my face. It's an expression I haven't seen since I was pregnant with Hannah...it's hope, it's joy, it's ecstatic-ness...it spills over into every single picture from June-December, and even now, in the midst of the struggle of sleeplessness and emotion, it's there.
I am happy.
I'm afraid to say that...seems like I've spent so much time thinking that I would never be allowed to be happy again, that I'm afraid to accept that day may have arrived.
Can I actually give myself permission to be happy?
To be happy without being afraid of God?
To stop thinking, for real, that He's a Cosmic Killjoy?
I know He's none of those things..He loves us. But when you've had your heart broken so badly, the enemy creeps in. He messes with your head--he lies to you, and he convinces you that God couldn't love you...that He takes away your joy to keep you desperate. It's not true...but I'm scarred from believing that lie for so long, and even though last year I began to find my way away from that lie, I'm still tainted with it...still attacked with it...
So I hold my little guy, and I cry...and I pray...and I have faith that we will make it to 30 days with Jericho.
People tell me to stop worrying...to stop comparing...and I know I should, but it's nearly impossible. I'm doing things with him that I never had the chance to do with Hannah, and I'm fighting fear with every step.
We're at 26 days.
On Monday, I will breathe. On Tuesday, I will rejoice--one month old...He'll have outlived his sister by far.
These are comparisons that sneak in, that try to steal my joy...but they can't have it. I won't let it. I will fight these thoughts...I will hold my son...and I will thank God for the life that he has, for the life that he WILL have. I will not let this fear steal my joy.
I will celebrate my son.
I will celebrate joy.
I will be happy in this moment...for the bath times, for the feedings, even for the lack of sleep. I will be happy.
I will not be afraid to rejoice in the gift of life...
My pictures from 2012 will mark the celebration...the joy on my face in those pictures will spill over into every picture from 2013, and I will not see the "hollow girl" that I was for so long, rear her ugly head ever again...God willing, I will never have to go down that road again.
I will not write this in fear.
I will write this in healing...
In hope...
And in a victory that comes from answered prayers to a God Who loves us beyond belief.
I'm getting an inkling of how He feels about me, every time I look into those beautiful eyes...My son looks like my husband, but every now and then, I catch an expression and I wonder...just maybe...he might resemble me...Those are my fingers and toes, my legs...my eyebrows...that might be my nose (sorry, kid!)...That's David's chin, but those might be my ears...
He's a reflection of both of us...and I've never loved anyone like I love him. It's different, this time around...I wasn't sure I could love anyone as much as I loved Hannah, but I do...I love him the same, but different...I get it.
God loves us all the same...the childless, the Mom with 15 kids, the teenager who's confused about who they are, the wanderer who eventually finds his way home...He loves us all the same. He always knows where we are, and He always calls us home...He always opens His arms to us...
I hold my little guy to my chest, in his Moby wrap; I think of how I used to tell God that I just wanted to hang out in His shirtpocket, closest to His heart. I imagine myself held in the Father's arms like I hold JD, and I find peace in that moment...
All JD feels in that place is my heartbeat, and there's security in that closeness. That's where I want to be: where I can feel the Father's heartbeat, the rhythm of His love and peace.
Where I can feel His joy in knowing that His daughter finally knows she is loved...
The days of the week are passing by, and the subliminal timeline in my head is dwindling even now...
There is peace in His arms...
And there is happiness that is undeniable in that place...
I'm working on learning how to live that way...I have a long way to go. But that girl in the pictures I see? She sure looks like she's got it down...
I'll get there...