In the midst of all the Christmas hubbub, Arthur turned four this week. We celebrated at his school, we celebrated at home with a few friends, we celebrated just the three of us.
His favorite part, hands down, was the cake. He helped make it, which I think may have been more exciting than actually eating it.
This week, we also celebrate ten years since that night at the tree where Steve asked me to be his wife. Every time I think of it, I'm just so glad he asked.
The holidays are a tricky time of year. Every joy seems greater, but so too does every sorrow. Some of the disappointments of the year that I thought I had shaken have come back to hit me full force and I find myself grieving all over again. We lost Steve's grandmother this week, one of our very favorite people. We have alternated between remembering her with stories, and sitting in disbelief that there won't be any more. The troubles of family and friends weigh on me and I wonder about why it seems that some people are given more than their fair share.
And yet, we celebrate. Life moves forward, and there are still so many things to find joy in.
He did not wait
till hearts were pure. In joy he came
to a tarnished world of sin and doubt.
To a world like ours of anguished shame
he came, and his Light would not go out.