Eight Christmases

Please take down the mistletoe
'Cause I don't wanna think about that right now
'Cause everything I want is miles away
Snow covered little town
My momma's in the kitchen, worrying about me
Season's greetings, hope you're well
Well I'm doing alright
If you were wondering
Lately I can never tell

I know this shouldn't be a lonely time
But there were Christmases when you were mine

"Christmases When You Were Mine" - Taylor Swift

This isn't going to be a sad post. It may be a bit melancholy, but hang in there just a bit. It will not be sad. I've been there. I have a Phd in sad. I'm so over sad. Melancholy, though, is a whole different monster. Contemplative is a beast. Introspective is a freaking scary movie. Resignation is a house of horrors. But not sad. Never, ever again. Mark my words.

As a child growing up in a very rural suburb of Dallas, had you asked me where I'd be today, I'm not sure what response you'd have received. If you could read my Dr. Suess "All About Me" book, you'd know that 6 year old DD wanted to be an airline stewardess with a mini-skirt uniform, a Marlo Thomas "That Girl" bouffant flip, knee high white shiny boots, and an ascot of some sort. Middle school me was convinced I would be an amazing actress - maybe the next Kristi McNichol or Tatum O'Neal? High School moi was determined to be a news anchor. Heck, I should be on Good Morning America by now. I knew one thing. I was going to be somebody important. Oh, but those best laid plans of mice, men, & naive children. 49 years later, I can tell you one thing. It's been an adventurous life. I worked in a bank. I worked for an ex-husband. I worked in a library. I worked in pharmaceuticals. I worked in sales. I worked in management at a distribution warehouse. I worked for a veterinarian. I worked as a national traveling sales trainer. Which job did I like the best? Easy peasy. The one I hope to hold for another 49 years. I worked as a mom. There were 4 beautiful children. All so different. All so perfect. All so me. Some are here. One is gone. Three were birthed. One was inherited, like that even matters. I have diapered. I have nursed. I have taught. I have cried. I have prayed. I have bargained with God above. I have worried. I have sacrificed. I have won. I have lost. I have been an abysmal failure. I have been the absolute best.  This is one job I have never, ever quit.

When you lose a child, you lose a tether - a tether to other people, a tether to yourself, a tether to reality. It's a bit like being in a hot air balloon, I would imagine. Very scary. Totally unpredictable. Yet, as you're free floating through the sky, IF you can calm your heart, & IF you can take deep breaths, & IF you can keep from vomiting, you'll notice the sky. You'll see the ground. You'll realize you have a vantage point to witness such miraculous things. Things you never noticed before. Things like how beautiful people's skin tones are - no two are alike. Things like rain & clouds - Instagram only wishes they had those filters. Things like the majestic sound of thunder. Things like the smell of freshly mowed grass or the smell of coffee. Things like someone you love saying your name.

It has been eight Christmases since she was here. I remember everything. Every mole. Every fingernail. The smell of her head. The sound of her voice. The clomp of her feet in the morning. Her laugh. I remember these things because God answered my prayer. He told me to always love her. He told me melancholy was fine but sad was no bueno. He told me to see her in every newborn puppy and every blade of grass and every raindrop. He said I could find her in the eyes of each kind person I would ever meet. He told me that she would be snuggled up next to me in the wee hours of every single morning. He said, if I tried really really hard, I could feel her hugs when I needed them most. He said I was somebody important, after all. That's why he shared her with me.

Be important.

Merry Christmas.