It's a Matter of Trust

I could tell you I didn't blog much, December, because I was looking at gingerbread houses, or building them; visiting family members, friends, and Santa Claus; baking cookies and touring tacky lights; eating doughnuts, pancakes, and Jesus's birthday cake. But the greater truth is: I spent a whole lot of time stroking Baby Chip's feet; they're softer'n a jack rabbit's, almost just as long, and very likely just as lucky.

Only, around here, we believe in blessings over luck.

Christmas Eve, remembering the Christmas Eve before, I cried through what was supposed to be a solo of "O Holy Night." I was too overwhelmed with gratitude to sing any verse, turns out, let alone the second, which--having been advised of imminent miscarriage--I'd deliberately skipped the year before.

But Jesus was, in all my trials, born to be my friend. He did know my need, and he really was no stranger to my weakness. Easy for me to say now, I guess, given the beautiful child I conceived just after miscarrying. But I just can't stop thinking: God was the same, Christmas 2011, as He was Christmas 2012. When my heart was breaking, He was just as good. He could see ahead to November. He could see ahead to Baby Chip.

We spent New Year's Eve at my brother's and sister-in-law's house in East Tennessee. My parents joined us, also my sister-in-law's parents. My brother expressed gratitude that each of us was there, adding rightly: it could've easily been otherwise. (My husband survived gastric bypass surgery in 2012; my older nephew survived a serious, injurious ATV accident; and Baby Chip and I survived an emergency c-section.)

Trouble remains among us, but, on New Year's Eve, we were all together. My sister-in-law's dad Rob--that good preacher who officiated Jim's and my wedding, Cade's baptism, and the girls' dedications--said a few words for Baby Chip, and Jim and I laid hands on our son's soft, warm head and poured out our prayers along with Rob's and the others'. Then Rob led us in Holy Communion, and my sister-in-law's mom Sherry sang "It Is Well with My Soul."

And it is. Well. My word for 2012 was "trust," and I guess I've never been so broken by a year as I was, last. But I love the Lord more than ever, and so much of our (as with every) relationship has always been a matter of trust.

8 Weeks Old