Year of Change

Behold the year of change; altering the perspective from childhood to adulthood and back to childhood. A bit of history, of family and pure unadulterated love and fun, crosses my mind as I sit in our home marveling my favorite Christmas tree to date. My childhood Christmases were filled with laughter, soul warming food, glittering gifts, steep hill sledding, ice forts, and the safest set of people in the world to me, my parents and two brothers. I couldn't tell you one thing I didn't love at our house in December as a child.

Now, 28 years later, the change I find myself confronted with is beyond anything I could have construed in my mind. An obsessive worrier, I am oddly amused and thankful my childhood's natural immaturity didn't allow me to even fathom what was to become of Christmas. My emotional side screams tragedy, but my work-in-progress maturity calmly replies with faith and basic principles of life; we cannot plan for the good and bad, we can just be.

For the first time ever, I will not be celebrating Christmas with the family who raised and molded me into the person I am today. There isn't enough cyber space to explain why so I won't. I'd like to call it a too-complicated-unless-you've-been-through-it change and not particularly an it's-all-your-fault kind of thing. Hurt goes in so many directions. I am thankful for and have fond memories of my childhood. Unfortunately life doesn't always fall into the place you thought it would. It feels something like lingering in shallow water with what you should know as family swimming away and a new life calling you onto the sand with a warm towel. Awaiting with patience and understanding you always dreamt of having in a husband. This is a bewildering confusion; a family once so close knit doesn't even feel like family. I wonder how many families go through something like this? But for every hardship, there is a reason and with it comes many blessings.

This may ooze feelings you had when parents kissed in front of you, but I really like my husband. When I see a picture of him I honestly think to myself, "I really love him." And it makes me smile to think of us together in our thirties, forties, fifties, sixties, etc. With Christmas almost here, I get extra lovey because we fell in love in December six years ago. This is the first year since Jada was born that Christmas feels real for our family. A lot has happened in the last three years that made the holidays unholiday-like. Again, I'll withhold the gory details. This year we bundled up to get a tree at a local spot, but decided to go with a cheaper one at Fred Meyer. It was tied up, but we thought it would be fun to be surprised. We couldn't have picked a more perfect tree. It's not just the tree's lavishing May family decor and delicious smell, I think maybe my perspective as an adult, mommy, and wife has found some sense of peace and is affecting my outlook. Two thousand-nine has changed my perspective on life and death; on drawing the line when your health and well-being are at stake; on the hard work and dedication (main ingredients: insanity and laughter) it takes to raise kids and coexist with your spouse; on how important it is to be a good friend if you want good friends; on being aware of negativity and how it can effect all areas of your life; and on how I lucked out finding the most genuine husband, dad, and friend in the world. I've married someone who makes me want to be a better person and who will help me work on getting there each day.

This is a great Christmas season. Our little monster/dragon/princess/baby-loving daughter met Santa's reindeer, told us she wants to see Santa but "no sit on his lap," helped daddy make the famous May chex mix, has already made a dozen Xmas art projects, and squeals with delight with the mention of Santa, cartoons, or presents. And Parker James is little boy wonder! Who knew babies could be so easy? We sure didn't. His birth was the biggest joy of 2009 and I am sure he was given to us this year for a reason.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.