Sunday, January 13, 2008
I'm 30-years-old and one day. There's a marathon that runs past our chapel today here in Phoenix so church is delayed. The children are in quiet time. Craig is in the ICU. The celebration was grand. It included, among other stellar activities, a nap, a haircut, a homemade card from the kids and their father who had the day off, a pinata, and birthday wishes by phone, and then all five of these nice tribute posts--not in that order. Craig marked, in writing, the events that are about to crowd this 3rd decade of my life, of our life (including Seth in high school!!) Apparently things don't calm down at all for 30-year-olds.
Simultaneously starting a new year and a new age demands some resolutions. Last year's was a last ditch effort at survival, newly post-partum with Hazel and only half way through this medical trip. Here I vowed to "clean less". Resolution resolved. Completed. Well, done. This year, pre-partum, and closing in on the last leg of the trip, a more meaningful plan is in order.
A few days before my birthday I found myself flipping through photo albums. From my birth to now. I came away from that stint on the couch with the strong impression that "nothing matters". I mean, a lot matters, but all the peripherals that seem to run our calendars...well, they're not it. The matters worth penciling in are the moments where we let each other be just what we are and are kind and loving to that being. It was after a movie sitting across from each other in a booth right next to the bar. It was loud and crowded. He confessed that he felt there was a whole side of me that I hadn't revealed yet, after nearly 7 years. I only smiled and nodded, knowing he was right, actually knowing who he was talking about, that "who" who hides for now to let responsibility and child-bearing/rearing shine. "But, I can wait for it". Here, after that addendum to his confession, I only let out an embarrassing burst of a sob in gratitude. Grateful that he wants to "let me be" and then love who I am being.
So this year and for the next ten--my thirties--I'm going to let them be: the four little bodies we made together plus him and me. Let them be who they are right now, every day. Love them. Love loving them.
(Also, I'll continue cleaning less, because sweet Sylvia from El Salvador was a once-a-month birthday gift this year. Hurray for what a little money put aside can buy!)