Thanks to Betty Mason Arthurs for this story of love and loss and Christmas joy.
Diamond Ring and Christmas
Betty Mason Arthurs
Christmas time brings both happy and painful memories. Today, I share one of a father’s love and his gift.
A father kept a memorable gift tucked away in the top drawer of his dresser. Among his extra keys, spare change, combs and handkerchiefs nestled, like delicate eggs in a nest, a small blue velvet box. David often touched the box and then opened it to gaze at the beautiful diamond ring, a gift for his lovely daughter.
His daughter was the sunshine in his life. It’s not often parents give birth to a selfless child who loved them “to the moon and back” even after she married. Marcy gave them a delicate granddaughter and handsome grandson. She and her family lived close by and every visit overflowed with her love and concern for her parents.
Marcy would turn 30 years in May…
View original post 612 more words
Inspired by a Wild Whimzy Writing Prompt:
One with nature
I lift my face to the warmth of the sun
My back arches
My knee bends; my toes point upward
My aching muscles stretch and loosen
Hold; reach a little farther
Release and relax
My offering for Cee’s Flower of the Day challenge.
My offering for the Diva Challenge. Patterns are printemps, cadent, paradox, ahh, and variations of luv-a, cool ‘sista, Dutch hourglass, and nipa.
This article first appeared on Doing Life Together.
Shortly after Carly, my first child, turned a year old, we discovered I was pregnant again. After the initial shock, Greg and I were delighted, looking forward to a new baby in January, and joking that we hoped he or she would come in December, so we’d have an extra tax deduction.
But after a few months, our delight turned into concern. I never felt the baby move. The doctor could never find the baby’s heartbeat.
At my 20-week checkup, the baby measured slightly smaller than the month before. My little one was dead, and my body had started reabsorbing him/her. Despite my request for a Caesarian delivery or an induction, I was advised it would be safer for me to just wait and let nature take its course.
In the meantime, I still looked pregnant. That meant that when I went grocery shopping or took Carly to the park, people commented on my coming blessed event. Not wanting to explain what had really happened to casual acquaintances and perfect strangers, I accepted their good wishes with a smile and a nod, though I was crying inside. Two weeks later I went into labor, and delivered in a hospital room. I chose not to see my baby; he or she will always be an anonymous angel to me.
When the holidays approached, all I could think about was how I’d expected to almost have a babe in arms by that time. I’d envisioned myself as a radiant madonna, creating a beautiful Christmas for my family, baking cookies with Carly, and buying and making perfect presents. Instead, I barely had the energy to get out of bed, and I felt incredibly guilty not to be genuinely in the holiday spirit for my family.
What are some tangible ways to acknowledge the Christmas season without draining your emotional resources? Here’s what I did that year:
What holiday traditions can you let go when you’re struggling?
I pray these suggestions will help you get through this difficult time. My heart is with you. I give you permission to not do it all this year. And if anyone tries to pull a guilt trip on you, blame it on me—give them a link to this article. Take care of yourself, and have a peaceful holiday. Love you.
In response to today’s Wild Whimzy Writing Prompt:
How do I climb out of the hole
where my heart used to be?
Once I was complete,
two joined together to make a whole.
Now I’m a fragment, jagged, broken.