Maybe you’ll remember that I posted this same photo way back in February.
At the time, I was enjoying the early weeks of my third pregnancy. I was happy and content as I felt life growing and changing inside of me. Yet, I glimpsed something profound about Lia asking to wear her bathing suit for two weeks in a row, despite the 2 feet of snow outside. This is what I wrote that day:
“Why we need each other:
…because sometimes,
in the middle of winter,
when the snow just keeps coming and coming,
one of us begs to put on a bathing suit and,
smelling of last year’s chlorine and sunblock,
reminds the rest of the family that spring is on its way;
that seasons give way to seasons;
and that today is a good one to hope.”
I loved the photo so much that it instantly became the background on my computer, and has been ever since.
So, as things would go, I find myself approaching the due date of Juliette’s expected birth. The big day that we so joyously shared with countless people for 20 whole weeks, until we said good-bye to Juliette in May. Since then, October 10, 2010 (10-10-10!) has become an ache, a sigh.
And yet, it’s the craziest thing, because I find myself with something precious to look forward to on that very same weekend: a part in a musical.
A silly, childish musical. (Snoopy!!! The Musical of all things, chock full of bright songs and cartoonish jokes.) But it has been the perfect antidote as I approach 10-10-10. Who could have guessed that my voice would feel stronger than ever, my heart more expectant than ever, and my smile easier than it has been in a long, long time?
This is God’s merciful gift: that I will be surrounded by giggling children, and caring parents – not to mention singing, dancing, and simple childhood pleasure – on the very weekend I anticipated meeting Juliette. With Ryan, Vivienne, Lia, and other family and friends by my side, it will be a sweet weekend. And, in my heart, Juliette’s due date will be commemorated with a simple, local-theater delight.
By the way, I had never shown you the front of Lia’s bathing suit that barren day in February.
I will say it again: these personal, unexpected, good gifts from our Father remind me that today is a good one to hope.
