The Inevitable...

I suppose it was inevitable...
I have a pretty wicked shopping addiction. Fortunately for my husband, it's the worst when I'm at thrift shops, yard sales, or resale shops. I'm also pretty practical about reusing and up-cycling (everything can be reused or sold). I haven't always been this way--okay, I've always had a serious shopping problem; it's just that until the leaner years (thanks, Mr. President), I wasn't as into the thrifts shops. I also put everything on plastic, which I'm in the process of paying off...again...
Anyways, I love to shop, but I love to sell...and I also love to give when I can. With both Hannah and Jericho, I was blessed with a considerable amount of new and used clothing. The clothing I was given has been passed along to several other new mothers, or has been upcycled at a favorite shop of mine, and traded for more secondhand clothes for my son.
Of course, Hannah didn't get to wear much; we had a huge amount of clothing that I had washed and sorted (so it couldn't be returned); I can't begin to remember all of the people we gave it to, but they all knew it was given with love, and with a broken heart. I'm glad that their little girls got to wear the ruffles and bows...and truthfully, I'm glad I never ran into anyone wearing one of Hannah's dresses. I think it would have shattered me.
With Jericho's clothes, it's been delightful to see where they've gone. One friend of mine brought her son home from the hospital in a particularly cute outfit of Jericho's. It was so cute to see our babies in the same monkey-suit! And since her baby was like, twice the size of mine, he looked even funnier in it.
As many things of Hannah's that we could reuse, we did. We had the nursery bedding packed away; she never used it, and it was a gender-neutral jungle design that Jericho loves. There were yellow onesies, white onesies, Blues outfits, some Cardinals gear--we kept what we could, within reason. I didn't get rid of the very last of her clothes until I found out Bug was a boy. We kept books, CDs, certain toys...we had hope that we'd have another baby, and I'm thankful we kept what we did.
So, it was inevitable that one day, I'd run into something of hers that I'd forgotten was hers, and that it would sucker-punch me in the gut.
And it did, 3 days ago.
Books are friends, right? And I firmly believe one should never gift a book without an inscription.
I grabbed a book for Jericho's nightly Bible time and story time, and there it was, from some dear friends and prayer warriors of ours..."For Hannah: Love, The Renauds, 2006"
I stopped breathing for a minute; tears welled up, and I couldn't help but cry...
But there was my boy,
Looking at me...
Big blue/brown eyes staring up at me quizzically...
Tiny hands touched my knees...patted my legs...
He is my now.
Even though I was sitting in what was her room, in the only piece of furniture that we kept--the rocking chair--even though the words on that page had me split-second thinking of what we missed out on---
He is my now.
I looked at him and dried my tears. I kissed his head, and said, "It's all right, Bug. This was your sisters. And now I'm going to read you the stories I didn't get to read her...but it's okay, because she's living them as we speak."
I know he doesn't understand, and I have no idea how David and I are going to approach the subject when he asks (I'm sure he will; her pictures are on the wall, and it's only a matter of time). What I do know, is that all I ever want him to know is how much we loved her, and how much we loved him; how much her tiny life changed ours forever, and how much we learned...and how faithful God is at keeping His promises, and in never wavering in His heart's desires for our lives.
The occasional sucker-punch never hurt anyone, right? Sometimes it's what it takes to remind us how far we've come...and how much the blessing right under our noses really means to us...
I love that boy.

Day 2: Where I'd like to be in 10 years...

Funny you should ask.
6 months ago, I would have said that I hoped I still worked for the same company, or that I hoped I had my graduate degree...that I hoped I was teaching at a good school, and that I hoped I was out of debt.
Things have changed.
My goals have changed.
In 10 years, I would like to be alive. Healthier. Skinnier. More disciplined.
In 10 years, I would like to be debt-free.
In 10 years, I would like to say that the two things I struggle with the most (money and food) are hard-won battles that I am finished with...
In 10 years, I would like to know Jesus closer, better, more intimately, and more decisively.
I would like to say, in 10 years, that I have learned from my mistakes,
That I have learned to be a better parent,
And that my son never felt like I passed him by for my own devices.

I would like for my son to understand at least a small percentage of how much he is loved...

I would like for my husband to still want to hold my hand when we cross the street...to still be by my side...but not to snore any louder. :)

I would like to have a bigger garden, and to have continued my streak of avoiding speeding tickets.

I don't know if I'll make it back to school; I'm torn on the subject right now, even as I'm looking at a calender that has an academic adviser's meeting scheduled for next month. I don't know if I can physically handle the demands of the job, the home, the parenthood, the...etc.... I'm afraid. I'm walking on ice, and I feel like I could break through any second now....or fall under.

10 years from now, I hope I look back on this little blog, and I say, "Look at that--I did it. And it was just fine."

I don't know what my future holds, and I can't sit here and worry about it. My 6 month-old is teething, and we are at our wits' end as to how to bring him peace. All I know about my next 10 years is this:

No matter what happens...no matter what I do or do not do...no matter if I get that graduate degree, find a better-paying job, or stop working altogether...no matter if I ever get to sing background vocals for Jewel (!) or write my Great American Novel...No matter what happens,

Jesus loves me.

And that's really all I care about.