I survived the holidays. Seriously, this feels like such an accomplishment. I deserve a metal, or at least a sticker. The holidays are so suffocating at times, and January feels like I can breathe again. I've never really liked January in particular, but it's probably been my favorite month for the last 3 years.
With each year, the joy and the grief get more complex as Zac is being more engaged with the holidays. I find myself loving the joy that he brings as his excitement fills the house. But then I'm pulled back to sadness, remembering that we never got to (or will) experience it with Jonathan.
The holidays are a constant pull of joy and grief, ping-ponging me back and forth...back and forth.
It's exhausting.
And then add pregnancy hormones, and you have a fun, complicated, emotional concoction.
As we are approaching Charlotte's arrival in about 5 weeks, I find myself praying for protection for her, Zac, Charles and myself... especially in the midst of all this sickness going around.
Me praying for them is big. But as I was lying in bed last night, I realized that I pray out of fear that I can't do it. I can't ultimately protect everyone from all the germs. When I pray, it's more of a last resort with me waving my white flag. I guess that's better than nothing. At least it's in the right direction.
I also realized that when I pray for Zac or Charlotte, I'm compartmentalizing Jonathan. Meaning, I still have so much pain and hurt towards God regarding Jonathan. But I'll try to trust Him with my other two children. And me praying for protection is me trying to trust Him...along with me being exhausted from trying to do it all myself.
I'm a messy work in progress. But at least I'm making progress. I am exhausted, and I ultimately want to turn to God first instead of a last resort. Hopefully I'll get there. But for now, at least I'm praying.
