In Like a Lion

True to the saying that March comes in like a lion, there's a blizzard going on outside my window at this exact moment! Thankfully we're all snug at home. Paul's been working longer hours lately, what with the demands at work due to the economy, and with an hour commute each way, he's been getting home pretty late at times. But tonight he's at home, already in bed. He's home with the flu or food poisoning (he went out to eat last night for work). We won't know which until someone else gets sick. Should be an interesting 24 hours or so.

The weather is a huge contrast from yesterday morning. It seemed like spring was finally here. During breakfast we could see two coyotes playfully hunting mice at the edge of our property (1000 feet from the house). We saw multiple male pheasants beating their wings and calling out to find a girlfriend. The driveway (loose term for 400 feet of dirt) had some spots that slightly resembled quicksand. And Ethan was finally able to pry the hat and scarf from our long-departed snowman off the ground with little effort.

In all honesty, I'm kind of dreading spring. Winter is the season of rest. For nature as well as for our family. There's so many things to be done during the other three seasons: planting, tending, weeding, mowing, harvesting. It just doesn't seem to end until the snow flies again. Winter has been my season of grief and my grief is not yet over. Like I've said before, it sneaks up on me and pounces and I find myself a complete wreck for a few hours or the day. Winter has been conducive to grieving, allowing enough time to be sad for awhile and then move on. I'm afraid things will get so busy this spring, that I'll find myself not grieving, only to be assaulted later on by all the sadness built up that I didn't have time to feel.

I miss Felicity so much! On Saturday I led my local breastfeeding group and I saw a friend's baby girl who was born a few weeks before Felicity. She was so sweet! She babbled and cooed and was such a reminder to me of Felicity and what she would be like right now. It hurt but it felt good too. Weird description, I know, but I don't know how else to describe it. Then on Sunday, I was scheduled to be in charge of the nursery and due to a friend's illness, I was in there during both Sunday School and 2nd service. We have a small church and currently only one infant in our church family. He was born just two weeks ago and I wasn't sure if his parents would leave him in the nursery or not. I assumed they wouldn't, but mentally I had to prepare myself if they did. They didn't, but his mom came into nurse him and then later to change him. Seeing him felt good and sad too. Congratulating his parents was so hard! I'm so thankful they have a healthy baby, but I miss my daughter so much and I can't help but wonder "why me?" What qualifies me to lose two babies in less than five months?

Winter fits my mood. Spring seems too happy for me and I'm not ready for that yet. Lately, I've been reflecting on Mary, the mother of Jesus, and thinking about what her life and grief were like. To bear a son, knowing that He would become the Messiah for His people. How could she live, wondering all the time, when and how it would happen? Luke 2:19 says, "But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart." Did she contemplate that the angel's promise might involve Jesus' death? My grief seems so petty in comparison to that. And yet, it is MY grief. Only I can bear THIS mother's grief. And wait. . . . .