Joy Joy Joy Joy

As the title of this post suggests, a profound event occurred in the life of our family on Friday, November 21st. Myles took his first poop on the potty. The shock of this unexpected event and the wave of joy that overtook us as we celebrated with smarties was such that Seth wanted to take a photo of the proof and post it on the blog. Moments later we came to our senses and realized that this mylestone may not, in fact, be as significant in the lives of our readership as it is in ours. Needless to say, it all may have been just a fluke. Regardless, positive reinforcement followed the blessed event, including a congratulatory call with Grandma Voss. Go Myles!!

In other news, we had a really good weekend together. On Friday night I went out with some friends to the Thirsty Monk for some beer and a fancy, fine cheese plate. On Saturday we had the most delicious waffles made by Seth, and Seth and Myles went to see the holiday parade with the Weisner bunch while I went to a board retreat. On Saturday night, a friend watched Myles while Seth and I went to see Changeling. While perhaps not the best movie selection for a date (i.e. a movie all about a mother losing her child, making me think about my own child a little too much for a date), it was a gift to be together, out on the town, having a good time. This morning we went for a family run with Myles in the jog stroller (I'll admit it--I behaved terribly and complained when the going got rough), then did some Christmas shopping, ate at a new neighborhood joint that was fabulous (tater tots, need I say more?), then went to a pumpkin party at Michelle's house where we feasted on pumpkin chili, pumpkin pasta, pumpkin bread, pumpkin cookies, and pumpkin beer. We had some quality family time and enjoyed our lovely town...and then of course I had some mixed feelings about the whole thing.

By habit, the Christmas spirit will wash over me and my thoughts will turn to all the things I love about the holiday season. Then I quickly recall that my dad will not be a part of it all this year. I remember last year's Thanksgiving when he drove without complaint up to Michigan with my mom, Seth, Myles and I, even though he was in the throes of chemo side effects. I remember it vaguely occurred to me once on Christmas that it might be my last Christmas with my dad, then I quickly pushed the thought out of my mind as pessimistic and unlikely. Would it have been different if I had known?

I know my dad would want me to count my blessings this Thanksgiving, like every Thanksgiving, but I guess I just haven't figured out how to honor his memory and acknowledge my grief in this complicated season, amidst the thousand messages we receive every day about the joy of the season. Christmas is, at its heart, about God bringing new life into the world in a cold, inhospitable season. Advent is about anticipating God doing a new thing in our lives if we wait.

Here's what Annie Dillard says about this time:

"Carvin's Cove path have dried, dropped, and blown; the acorn itself is shrunk and sere. But the sheath of the stem holds water and the white root still delicately sucks, porous and permeable, mute. The death of the self of which the great writers speak is no violent act. It is merely the joining of the great rock heart of the earth in its roll. It is merely the slow cessation of the will's spirits and the intellect's chatter: it is waiting like a hollow bell with a stilled tongue. The waiting itself is the thing."

I think I'll reflect more on this season as lived through the veil of grief in other posts. (This one was originally to be about more mundane things, if you recall). But I wanted to mention it here, because it's become a part of my daily grind. Untangling the spirit of this season from the raw nerve of grief; not feeling guilty if I embrace the season's joy for a day or an hour; waking up every morning to the reality that Thanksgiving, Christmas, and life will never be the same. It's a confusing time. But I'm grateful we had a good weekend. And I hope you did too.