On this final day of 2019, I am adjusting to the sudden solitude and so very grateful for my dear ones. We all gathered here once again for another festive family Christmas celebration, still missing David like crazy, but glad to be together.

Chelsea and Brian and baby Beckett live nearby, so I see them throughout the year, but except for a few Chelsea and Beckett overnights, they didn’t stay here during the holidays like the others. Still, they were here Christmas Day.

Here’s Beckett wondering why a stuffed animal is singing to him and flapping its ears . . .

Brittany brought her boyfriend Andy, who kindly postponed his family Christmas to join ours. He was a great sport in this house full of women. He played games,  worked jigsaw puzzles, helped Felicity learn to fly her mini-drone,  and cooked and cleaned as much as any of us. Andy’s a fun guy so it was tough to get him to quit hamming it up so I could get a normal photo, but he makes Brittany smile, and I love that!

They hit the road early Sunday morning to drive down to Albuquerque to celebrate Andy’s delayed family Christmas and New Year’s Eve. Fortunately they forgot about ten things, so I’ll get to see them again soon.

Courtney was queen of travel this year, even more than Brittany and Andy. She flew out here on the 22nd and back home Christmas night, just to turn around and drive back with Bailey and Felicity on the 26th. It was a lot, but we weren’t about to leave her alone on Christmas or deprive any of us the comfort of togetherness on the 27th, so she did what she had to do. I made them pose for a photo before I’d let them go Monday afternoon.

I waved goodbye and the house was suddenly VERY quiet. I remember David and I would always say to each other, “Well, back to you and me again,” and we’d have a glass of wine and talk about all the fun of the past few days. He’s been gone now two years, and I still don’t know what to do with myself in those moments.

Two years. Time is such a weird thing. It flashes by at the speed of light when we’d rather it stop and drags when we want it to hurry up. David is beyond time now, and here I am knowing only that two years have gone by and grief is not done with me yet.

But there will be other family times. I wrote a poem in November called “Magic Words” that I think sums it up.  The poem starts with a long litany of the chores and chaos that are part of hosting a crowd over the holidays. You probably know what that’s like, so we’ll skip to the last stanza:

. . . I will say thank you again, once the house is empty and quiet

and the extra shoes and coats,

the kids, the crafts, the snacks,

the phones, the tablets, the chargers,

the dogs, their leashes and dishes, their crates and treats,

have all been packed up and taken away.

I will call all three and say thank you so very much for coming,

for being my dear ones, my family,

for crashing into my silent aloneness

with your exuberant, irrepressible, gloriously loud life.

from “Magic Words” by Sunny Bridge – November 2019

 

Wishing you a 2020 with lots of warm, wonderful times with your dear ones!

Beckett David Johnson arrived at 12:56 a.m. this morning about thirty seconds before Chelsea was to be rushed in for an emergency C-section. He emerged on the last-chance push with the help of forceps, so well done Chelsea, coach/dad Brian, the entire medical team and of course Beckett for finally agreeing to move out of the cozy womb.

He’s 8 lbs. 2 oz. and 19.5 inches long, so we’re not sure what he was waiting for, but he’s here at last. The last few hours were tough on both Chelsea and Beckett (so, of course, worried husband/dad Brian, too), and all Beckett wants to do today is sleep. We all know that feeling, but please pray that he will begin to wake up enough to nurse, which is necessary for many reasons, but at the moment to keep his blood sugar up to healthy levels.

Just wanted to share this good news!

*I promise to pass along any well-wishes you leave in the comments.

 

My travels are over for the moment, but what a summer it has been! If you’ve read this blog much or know me at all, you know gratitude is one of my favorite things. It anchors me in the peace of God when worries and sorrows try to knock me down, and a few are trying at the moment, I’ll be honest.

Serenity is seeing a sunset and knowing who to thank.  ∼  Unknown (some say Amish Proverb)

Count your blessings, we’re told. So here’s a visual list of some of the blessings I’m counting.

Tiny moments of peaceful beauty:

Long afternoons and longer evenings of joy with dear ones:

And always, forever, my beloved David . . . . I’ll never stop being grateful for him!

 

While I’m counting  up my blessings, we’re also counting down the days until Chelsea’s baby, Beckett David Johnson, is born. He’ll be my first grandson, and the first grandchild who will live nearby.  Any day now!

Baby Beckett, of course, will be one of the best blessings of all. Please keep him and Chelsea and Brian in your thoughts and prayers.

My sun sets to rise again.  ∼ Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Wishing you peace and beauty and dear ones to share them with!

I’m temporarily back in Colorado, but certainly have more photos to share of beautiful France, I promise you!

Whether home in Colorado or here . . .

. . .  I am officially back in the states after spending six and a half very busy weeks in France. I loved it, but I love being here, too.

The first morning at Sunapee, I woke very early. I don’t see many sunrises, since I’m more of a night-owl, but 6 a.m. in New Hampshire is noon in France, so for several days after my return, I was able to catch a bit of this beautiful serenity . . .

, , , before the more active lake life begins. This place, like La Rochelle, is a home away from home for me, which is fortunate since I’m headed back soon for yet another wedding in the family.

I love sharing times of celebration, but I also deeply appreciate serenity and the two don’t always go together.  Sometimes they do, though.  Soak in the tranquility of this view from the top of the Dune du Pilat, near Cap Ferret in southwestern France . . .

Here’s what was actually going on when I took the shot . . . .

. . . lots of people celebrating this marvel, not to mention the fact they made it to the top!

And another shot from on high . . .

. . . which was more about celebration than serenity, since we were VERY high up on a chairlift, so not feeling completely serene as we headed down from Nellie and Stefani’s wedding to their reception, but look how beautiful it is!

After the festivities and a few more days enjoying the lake, people started heading back to their regular lives and peace took the place of parties. It was then that I had another wave of missing David so much the sadness threatened to overwhelm the serenity. And I suspect it will continue to do so sometimes. I know I’m “allowed” to miss him and to still feel sadness, but sometimes the sharpness of it catches me by surprise. When I tried to take a walk up the road, I remembered this . . .

. . . and I had a choice to make. I could be sad he wasn’t walking up the road to greet me–and I was, I have to admit–but I could also choose, even while feeling sad, to be grateful that he had introduced me to this beautiful place, and even more, that he had chosen to spend the bulk of his adult life loving me. What a gift.

So I’m finding that sadness, serenity and celebration continue to dance through my life, at times politely taking turns like newcomers at a church picnic, sometimes weaving in and out and joining together unexpectedly, forming intricate patterns more complex and beautiful than the contra dancing I enjoyed at the Folk School. But the music continues to play, and I guess all I can do is dance.