One year ago today, I went on bed rest. It’s one of those things that I totally can’t wrap my mind around. That we have made our way around to the same point in the calendar already. That the littlest was, at that time, seeking safe harbor in my belly. That I went into the hospital a year ago and was told, once again, that I may not go home. And that we were told that our weeest one was drastically slowing up in growth. And yet, I felt at peace.
I’ll never forget it. I mean, of course, I’ll forget some of it. Bits and pieces. Maybe even important details. But something that I’ll never forget was returning home, setting up shop in my bedroom, and saying these words to my husband…
I’m gonna need a candle.
Last Sunday, at church, our minister spoke about peace. Peace in moments where peace really shouldn’t exist. Peace inside. When the outside is complete chaos. And as he spoke, I felt my eyes well up, and though I held my tears inside, I knew exactly why I was emotional. Because that peace. The peace he spoke about. I felt that over and over just one year ago. It was all too timely, his message. All too familiar. That quiet, perfect peace amidst life’s storms.
Because a year ago, on that same Sunday, I sat in church, and I had chest pains. Chest pains. And shortness of breath. Which caused us to go into the doctor the next morning. Which meant talk of stroke, stillborn birth, steroids, and other serious topics. Which caused me to be admitted. Which resulted in bed rest. And once I found out I was on bed rest… that that was where we were, it made it all so much… more peaceful.
I was and continue to be so happy that all of that chaos happened at Christmas. I fear that without Christmas, without the candle, without the smells and the songs, I might have come unraveled. I may have had a harder time finding the peace. But for as far back as I can remember, I’ve always loved this time of year. The beauty of it all. Christmas is, for now, my heart’s season. It is the time where I feel most connected to this life. Where I am at awe as I watch my children’s excitement. Where I feel the deepest gratitude for the love in my marriage, family, and friendships. Where I am overtaken with joy for the spirit of it all. The time where I, on many occasions, feel a peace. Often unexpected. Always received with thanks. And gratitude. The beauty of the season.
I thought I needed the candle. But really, I needed what it represented to me. The season it sprinkled into the air. A time that should have felt chaotic. That should have felt out of my control. That should have felt like a test. Felt like everything was going just as planned. Call it a God whisper. Call it positive forces in the universe. Call it what you like. In every bit of my bones, I felt an overwhelming feeling that I can only call peace.
And then, the other night, I had another moment. I have them more as a mother than I ever did before. A moment. Where I felt like time stood still. As Barrett, held high above Adam’s head, dangled the star in front of him. And screeched a bit as he fearfully hung the star upon this year’s fir. And Jonah sipped on Cherry 7up. And Harrison looked on. And I stood back. And I felt my whole heart living outside of me in that moment. I felt complete. And whole. And totally. at. peace. Peace because in that moment, I knew that this was all because of that. All of the events that led up to Harrison’s delivery, all of the weeks that followed, they all brought us here. To Christmas. Once again. To my heart’s season. A time where I feel pockets of unexpected peace with each and every day. A time where the truest gift, is the season itself.
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