Reverb10. December 30.

Gift. This month, gifts and gift-giving can seem inescapable. What’s the most memorable gift, tangible or emotional, you received this year? (from Holly Root)

*****

This journey has been my gift.

I’m still here.

Reverb10. December 29.

Defining moment. Describe a defining moment or series of events that has affected your life this year. (from Kathryn Fitzmaurice, author of The Year the Swallows Came Early)

5 months ago today, Benjamin was born still.

My son.

Whose very conception involved

divine intervention –

Exhausted husband

Broken-legged wife

Inviting a second child despite

the questions lingering in our hearts.

Then tests of faith,

Jaw-dropping miracles,

Messages from angels through

different mediums,

Bringing me closer to

hearing them myself.

The heaviness of shock

as red dripped – no – poured, again.

A picture of him dancing

on a grainy screen.

Two months of freedom,

Knowing care must be taken,

Then the ache of fresh blood.

The final three weeks.

Phone calls in the night.

Husband catching planes

in fear and shock.

Daughter waking up to different

faces,

Crying only the last time.

The time we all cried –

for him,

for ourselves.

The hemorrhage, the letting go

A light touch on my shoulder,

The warmth of strangers’ gazes,

I’m so sorry

so sorry

so sorry

for your loss.

He is not lost. He is in my arms.

1 lb, 1 oz

Tiny perfect fingers

Tiny perfect toes

His grandmother’s nose.

He is not lost.

He is in my tears,

in my growth,

in my husband’s eyes,

my daughter’s touch.

He is not lost. He is our son.

Forever.

Reverb10. December 28.

Achieve. What’s the thing you most want to achieve next year? How do you imagine you’ll feel when you get it? Free? Happy? Complete? Blissful? Write that feeling down. Then, brainstorm 10 things you can do, or 10 new thoughts you can think, in order to experience that feeling today. (from Tara Sophia Mohr, author of The Women’s Seder Sourcebook: Rituals & Readings for Use at the Passover Seder)

I’ve been turning this question over in my mind all day. The temptation was to shrug my shoulders, claim fatigue and forget about it. But I knew it wouldn’t go away. This question, in one form or another, has been tugging at my shirtsleeve since Ben died. One one hand, there’s the to-do-list me, the one who feels like a failure and keeps hoping success is around the next corner. The one with plenty of ideas but not enough steam. The one who is never satisfied. On the other hand is the grieving-mama-awakening-Spirit who is learning to trust that each time my foot settles into its newest piece of earth, there is a reason. The one who has watched life provide the right people at the right time these last months. The one whose ideal home appeared the day after writing a classified ad to the Universe.

Particularly at this time of endings and beginnings, of resolutions and intentions, I am tempted to write a recovering perfectionist’s list of everything I’ve ever wanted to do, and then write 2011 at the top. When I think about picking up the pen, there’s this quiet voice  that whispers, Be Careful. I’m afraid if I start thinking about lists and achieving, I will fall into old – destructive – habits I’ve recently begun to step out of. The habits that brought me to this place of grief and growth, direct causal link or not.

When I sit with myself and stop thinking long enough to listen, there is an easy answer to the above question. I want to allow myself to live the grief process fully. To mourn my son 100% and allow the change that brings with an open, trusting heart. That is likely not something I can complete in 2011, but my instincts tell me that come the first anniversary of his death, I will be standing in myself in a new way.

Closing my eyes to imagine how that feels, I see the world as though after a battering rain – cleansed, sharp, bathed in a holy light. And I am a force for good in the world, standing up for what feels right with honesty, compassion and love. Maybe with some cute leggings, a cape and a magic lasso to complete the look.

To get there – wherever there is – all I have to do is hold the vision as truth, make choices in line with my deepest truths and trust the process.

And I’ll make a few lists on the side – of the helpful, inspiring, non-kryptonite kind.

Reverb10. December 27.

Ordinary Joy. Our most profound joy is often experienced during ordinary moments. What was one of your most joyful ordinary moments this year? (from Brene Brown, author of The Gifts of Imperfection)

A few of the thousands of ordinary, breathtaking moments that kept me alive this year.

Almost all of them included me looking at some version of this:

or this

It’s been a hard year and I love my life.