Wednesday, October 1, 2014
It's cooling down outside and the rain is starting, leaving golden leaves splattered across my deck. I love fall. The smell of the leaves and the rain. The feel of wool socks and cozy fleece. Turning on the oven every day. The breads. The soups. The pumpkins and the costumes.
Today joy looks like a toddler wearing a rainbow unicorn costume.
There is magic in her eyes and her mind and I get lost just watching her sometimes as she plays and lives with reckless abandon. I already see it slipping away from him, the calculating way he understands how some things can't be real, the way he's already jaded and skeptical enough to see how the world works. But it's not gone yet, not completely. But I see him and I see her and the window is just so short. This time we have to witness the marvel and experience the wonder, their wonder, it is fleeting.
There is magic in this season of holidays that I will fight to keep alive for as long as I can for them. It starts with pumpkins and candy and silly costumes, and leaves sprinkled with crayons and ironed between wax paper. It moves into turkeys and family and fellowship and thankfulness. And it culminates with trees covered in a million twinkle lights, stockings, birthday cakes, and gifts from someone so magical, he still believes enough to ask that jolly soul to deliver one to Heaven from him.
No matter how hard this season is for me, I will fight for this forever.
Today joy looks a lot like craft preparation. Before Jameson died, the whimsy and the play and the fun came so easily for me. I struggle with it now. I'm still me, but I'm so different in ways that can't be undone. But just because it doesn't come easy, doesn't mean I can't still do it. Because that window is so small. And the magic is so fleeting. And they are so worth it.