I'm really not one for random holidays and celebrations. I have never celebrated Secretary's Day (which I don't even think is PC anymore) and barely wear green for St. Patrick's Day. Christmas, Easter, and birthdays, that's about it for me. But when Robert and I got married we wanted to be intentional to celebrate our anniversary. We said that gifts for other holidays throughout the year should be low key, and we'd save up to celebrate our anniversary in style every May. We had planned to go to the Olympics in London this summer to celebrate our fifth anniversary - instead, we welcomed our beautiful son. Robert still thought we could pull off the transcontinental trip with a 6 week old, but instead we decided to move. I think that was enough transition for one summer for one little boy (and his tired parents!).
All that being said, I pay a lot more attention to anniversaries than I used to, and tomorrow we celebrate one. Robert and I were joking the other day and in response to something trivial I'd done for him, he said it was the best day of his life. Of course I responded saying that it better not be, and he clarified that our wedding day, then Davis' birthday, were the best two days of his life. Then he thought for a moment, and clarified again - the day we FOUND OUT we were having Davis was the best day of his life - September 11, 2011! Now, Robert didn't actually remember the date, but that's what my steel trap of a mind is for (at least it was before having a baby, now I think it's mostly malleable).
As I celebrate, I reflect. Something we haven't mentioned on here is that we had a bit of difficulty getting pregnant. Not to go into too many details, but it wasn't easy and involved years, not months. And as a friend once told me, "people should know better than to ask if you want children when you've been married for over five years and don't have one yet, because the answer is usually sad, hard, and painful." At this time last year the season of "trying" had made me weary and brought many questions, mostly ones about God and his will that were difficult to reconcile between my head and my heart. It also brought me to a place of brokenness where I was finally admitting that as much as I wanted to control having a baby, the timing, the gender, health, etc., truth was that I wasn't in control of any of it. Nor should I be. I kept repeating this silly acronym, first to remind myself it wasn't my gig, but more importantly, that God Is God and Sovereign (GIGS...cheesy I know). Weary and broken, this time last year was a time where my faith grew - mostly because it had to. It was necessary for survival.
This week I celebrate September 11, because it was a glorious day where the fog of weariness lifted for a moment and I had a graced experience. God showed me that what I knew the be true about his faithfulness could be felt and believed. I'm positive there will be many more seasons of weary and broken, but during those times I'll remember September 11, because that's what graced experiences are all about (see
The Signature of Jesus, Brennan Manning).
Davis is now just over three months old and we have some pictures to share (please don't steal them and sell them to crazy marketers online, or even claim them as your own. Feel free to comment/contact me if you want a digital copy). He is a precious, sweet gift, who loves silly faces, silly noises, his pacifier, and being naked. We missed the two month pictures because we had just moved and while unpacking I strategically placed the wooden numbers in a place where I'd remember them. Like that ever plays out the way you think it will.
