It's December

December is here and with it, so much quiet, so much to say that cannot be verbalized, so much hope, so much faith, so many memories. I am not going to dwell in what was, in what was to be, rather, I am going to pray very hard to stay in the moment, and just BE. That is usually my advice to so many, and I will heed my own words, and ask God as many times a day (and night) as necessary, to just help me stay the course.

So, this morning, four years after Allison spent her last month at home with us, starting out the month in crisis and pain, and near death, I am listing in my spirit, all the reasons to keep shining, keep going, keep doing. First, and foremost, there is always Jennifer. A mother must be a role model, even though, at times, she is mine! In fact, and this is a huge step, we plan to go to The Nutcracker production together on Saturday night....wow! I will be out among holiday cheer and festivities, stepping out in the name of tradition, and love. Guided by her sister's spirit, we will bring back a part of what once filled every holiday season. There are other things, for instance, Christmas music. While I cannot listen to "her" favorites very easily, I find that I CAN play a few songs and even hum a bit. Thank you, God, and thank you, Allison, that I am able to listen, hear, live, and learn what it takes to celebrate the true reason for the season. I am so thankful to prepare for a visiting family, one who knows not how to venture this "first" Christmas without their beloved husband and father. In the name of family, and in honor of Michael, somehow, some way, they will find the strength to pack, travel, and spend this holiday with us. Praises to God for what IS and what is to BE.

I don't know any other way than to keep on. When the memories and the flashbacks filter, I try not to shove them down deep. That hurts too much. That makes me want to fall apart. I try to pause and acknowledge them. I am learning to cope and maneuver. Still, December is so damn painful. I want to hang her stocking, I want to hear her laugh. I want to see her come in with her suitcases filled. I want to share her story when other mothers talk of their children coming home. I wanted this to be different. But it isn't. It is our life. Our loss. Our pain. So, I pray to God to help me cling to the good, the beautiful, and the pleasant. And He is doing His best to show me. Even yesterday when there was the slightest of snowflakes on a dreary, gray, wintery looking day, He helped me find the good, the motivation, the desire, and the joys. It's December, but through intense prayer and devotion, God is showing me that the beauty is all we need, the pain, the cancer, the ugly, is all gone. There is beauty to behold and though it takes work, it will be found.

My mind holds images of December. Some from years gone by, some from THAT December when we knew not one day, one moment at a time, whether we would have another. But we did. We had the whole, entire month. God answered prayers then, and He answers them now. He has shown me I never have to let her go completely. She is always here. She is snuggled under the blankets on the couch, watching the snow, she is sporting her new rabbit hat, all decked out in red for the holidays, she is laying in her bed with an ice pack on top of her head, trying to stay cool from the heat of chemotherapy treatments, she is eating us out of house and home, and watching me bake the cookies. She is encouraging me to put up the tree, she is whispering what to buy for gifts. She is sending angels in the form of people or "signs" to help me know that it is going to be "okay". She leads me through the motions of a day and reminds me that all this is God's agenda, and that it will be a good day. She inspires and lights my path. She brings people into my life I would have never imagined and she gives me strength. She is here. It's December, and she is here.