Wednesday, December 16, 2015

The First Christmas


I am wearing this dress I used to wear when I was pregnant. Truthfully, the cut still makes me look like I'm expecting, but it's green and I haven't worn a dress in forever so I put it on anyways. Dresses make me feel girlie and fancy and young and I haven't felt like any of those things in a while. 

Lately I'm thinking all the time about how last year, Christmas seemed like a marker that represented relief for me and more safety for Sprout. Of course, nothing in life is guaranteed, I remind myself of this every time I set Avalon down for nap time, but on December 12th of last year I was 12 weeks pregnant, which made me breathe a huge sigh or relief since clearly the hard part was over.


I remember walking around shops and going through the toy section with real purpose, running my hands carefully along small, soft pajamas made from bamboo, thinking how someday I would kiss a baby whose skin was even softer; a baby that would be mine. 


I've been thinking a lot about God lately. How we fight over who and what "he" is and what we think he wants us to be. I used to think about everything being a part of God's plan, and that brought me comfort, but then how do you accept that God intended for such tragic things to happen to us? My mom says he didn't.


The sky has been so clear and cold lately and for a month when I would go out to the trash or the car at night I wouldn't even really look up at it. It was like I couldn't make eye contact with God because I was mad, but I knew he was right. Now I look up. There is so much darkness and so much light up there. I guess it's kind of like it is down here. It kind of gives me this rush of joy, similar to the one I get when the crescendo of a song begins.


We took Avalon to see Santa on Sunday; my whole family and me. I also accidentally texted Scott's family something obscene about horse private parts thinking the text was only to his sisters. His dad's response was "Whoaaaaa!" Great. Actually, I couldn't stop laughing about it for days. On Saturday I woke up at 4:30 a.m. for no reason and while I was trying to coerce myself into sleeping, I suddenly became hysterical about the occurrence all over again. 

Something else embarrassing, but not nearly as silly, happened last week. I cut my hand on a toy from my childhood. You could call the thing retro, but really it just became deteriorated, crappy plastic that shattered into one million pieces when Avalon dropped it from her highchair onto the floor. I cleaned up the pieces while she was napping, but cut my hand on the toy. Then we went Christmas shopping at a local toy shop with beautiful wooden toys and organic clothing, but when the cashier gave me the total I realized I had really gone over budget and had to choose things to put back. I uncomfortably selected a small blanket, some baby moccasins and a wooden shape game to put back and then realized, to my horror, and probably to the shop keeper's, that I was handing all of these things back with my bandaid dangling pathetically off my thumb. Gross.

Anyways, back to visiting Santa with Avalon. I wasn't really thinking much of it, but once we were standing in line, the same line I used to stand in when I was a kid, it felt like such a big deal. I actually got really nervous right before it was our turn to see Santa. I dressed Avalon in one of the items I kept from the toy shop trip-a dress that had flowers knit on the top and printed all over the bottom skirt that was longer in the back than the front. She sat with Santa and looked bewildered until she saw me imitating one of those crazy-arm car dealership blow up dolls (Scott says it was funny how this made her seem less bewildered).

I feel like during Christmases before I was maybe forcing it. Not when I was a kid, of course. Kids don't know how to be fake yet. But this year, even though not all things are ideal, I feel I am having one of the best Christmases ever. Every morning we turn on the tree. I put Avalon down on a quilt with some toys and turn on the train that drives around the tree. In the evening we walk around the neighborhood and listen to Christmas music on my phone or I sing Jingle Bells and look at the sky, or the lights that come on as we head home after sunset. I feel overcome by Christmas, like I don't even have to try to love it, like I felt when I first saw Avalon, and then I think that must have been how Mary felt on the very first Christmas. 

5 comments:

  1. Oh Devon, how very beautifully you write, you really are so gifted with words. This Christmas will be utterly magical for you all I think, and the first of many magical times. I'm laughing about the inappropriate text. Your good reputation is in ruins! CJ xx

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    1. Thank you CJ! :) Yes, my reputation. It was bound to happen anyways ;)

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  2. I LOVE YOUR WRITING! Isn't celebrating Xmas with the little ones sooo much fun!?!

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    1. Thank you so much Andi! It is the best! I love the holidays more than I thought possible now that Avalon is here :)

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  3. Having a baby definitely makes the season more magical! And when I think about God and about the tragedies that happen I have to think about God's character and what I know to be true about Him. He loves (us) his kids more than we could ever love ours. He feels our pain and sadness intensely and even when tragedy strikes, He is what brings the pieces back together. He is the only hope we have through each tragedy. So I find myself trying not to ask why and asking more of when. He sent Jesus to restore us and promises to come back again and only then will this world truly be a perfect place. Sorry things have been hard for you friend. XO

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