I usually look forward to Spring. God did not make me for snow. Living in Illinois and enduring the Winter has always been a challenge for me. The first full Winter that I was in Chicago I actually cried when I saw the first blades of green grass coming in. I knew Winter was over, and I had survived (obviously barely since I was crying over grass).
The only thing that I like about Winter is Spring. Buds on the trees, the first tiny purple flowers breaking through the brown dormant grass, and tulips, glorious tulips- they bring joy because of what they signal: the earth coming back to life, the end of bleakness and cold, the coming of Easter. Spring has always made me happy.
Last Spring Jeff and I were so excited. We hit a major pregnancy milestone (heartbeat) in March and started to tell our family about the baby. We prepared to tell our friends. We watched basketball...lots and lots of basketball, because I love March Madness. My sister came for Easter, and we went shopping for maternity clothes, and, of course, watched basketball.
I had really looked forward to Spring this year. Although the snow and the cold often suit my mood very well, I am tired of living in a place of mourning. I believed warm weather heralded hope. The beginning of Lent marked an important time of letting go and learning to trust. I thought things would get easier as the flowers bloomed and the Big Dance got rolling.
I was wrong. I had no enthusiasm for selection Sunday. I haven't even filled out a bracket- and not because UCLA ended their season with some disappointing losses. I am happy for the warm weather, but not really moved by it.
Whenever I think of the things that signal Spring, I am reminded of last Spring. We were so happy, so full of hope. We had just begun to recover from the loss of Jeff's dad. We felt released from the darkness of mourning.
I thought that this Spring would make things easier. It always has before. Instead I have found myself back in a place that I thought I had passed. No matter how many times I am told that grief is a roller coaster, I never really learn the lesson. I am always so surprised by the freshness of my grief when it hits hard. Lately, it has been pounding me into the ground. Every portent of Spring, of life, of warmth, and yes, of March Madness, reminds me of the excitement and expectancy of last year. The pure joy of carrying a child inside of me, a new human part me and part Jeff, that God was knitting in my womb. I am reminded of the dreams we had for our life with our little one, the things we talked about teaching our baby, and the plans we made as a family. We lost something special when we lost Leah. I miss it.
The only thing that I like about Winter is Spring. Buds on the trees, the first tiny purple flowers breaking through the brown dormant grass, and tulips, glorious tulips- they bring joy because of what they signal: the earth coming back to life, the end of bleakness and cold, the coming of Easter. Spring has always made me happy.
Last Spring Jeff and I were so excited. We hit a major pregnancy milestone (heartbeat) in March and started to tell our family about the baby. We prepared to tell our friends. We watched basketball...lots and lots of basketball, because I love March Madness. My sister came for Easter, and we went shopping for maternity clothes, and, of course, watched basketball.
I had really looked forward to Spring this year. Although the snow and the cold often suit my mood very well, I am tired of living in a place of mourning. I believed warm weather heralded hope. The beginning of Lent marked an important time of letting go and learning to trust. I thought things would get easier as the flowers bloomed and the Big Dance got rolling.
I was wrong. I had no enthusiasm for selection Sunday. I haven't even filled out a bracket- and not because UCLA ended their season with some disappointing losses. I am happy for the warm weather, but not really moved by it.
Whenever I think of the things that signal Spring, I am reminded of last Spring. We were so happy, so full of hope. We had just begun to recover from the loss of Jeff's dad. We felt released from the darkness of mourning.
I thought that this Spring would make things easier. It always has before. Instead I have found myself back in a place that I thought I had passed. No matter how many times I am told that grief is a roller coaster, I never really learn the lesson. I am always so surprised by the freshness of my grief when it hits hard. Lately, it has been pounding me into the ground. Every portent of Spring, of life, of warmth, and yes, of March Madness, reminds me of the excitement and expectancy of last year. The pure joy of carrying a child inside of me, a new human part me and part Jeff, that God was knitting in my womb. I am reminded of the dreams we had for our life with our little one, the things we talked about teaching our baby, and the plans we made as a family. We lost something special when we lost Leah. I miss it.
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