Sunday, November 2, 2014

Soulful Sunday: Celebrating another year of change

I wasn't ready for it, but it came.  Last night, the first killing frost of the season zapped the life from my impatiens which were still in full bloom. It put the hurt on some roses that were looking really good too.
A gigantic sycamore tree at the corner of our yard has since dropped most of it's leaves. There's a small ocean of crunchy brown leaves below the bare white arms of the sycamore.
They are beautiful today, but the leaves will soon crumble and disintegrate into the ground until there's little evidence that they were even there.
The seasons of our life are.like that. When we are in the midst of summer, it's hard to imagine how quickly autumn can arrive and change everything.
Focusing on the loss that change brings can cause grief, even if the change is a good thing.  Our youngest daughter graduated from college, got her first job and moved out of the house this year.  
Our nest is empty, and honestly, I've felt less than enthusiastic about the idea at times.
The house is too quiet.  I miss the comings and goings of our daughters and their friends.
As Thanksgiving nears, I have to remind myself that not all change involves loss.
For one, my husband and I have a new granddaughter.  She's two months old now and is pretty as a picture with her mostly bald little head.
Our first grandchild, a grandson, didn't have to be hospitalized all year.
Three autumns ago, he was fighting desperatly for his life. Born with a birth defect called Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia, doctors didn't give him a very good chance of surviving.
During that time,  I participated in National Blog Posting Month for the first time.
I met the challenge and posted every day, many times writing in the waiting room or in the car on the way home from the hospital.
It was an incredibly stressful time, but the mental exercise of posting a daily blog provided a diversion for some of my anxiety.
It was difficult then to imagine what my grandson's quality of life would be if he were to survive.
He was 26 days old when his parents got to hold him for the first time.  After 36 days, I finally had my turn.
These days, our grandson has a few lingering issues, but he's hard to distinguish from a "typical" three year old.
He doesn't remember living in the hospital the first eight months of his life.  I wonder what he thinks when he sees pictures of himself taken during those days, his body distorted and swollen.  
Today our grandson is walking, talking, and is a very entertaining little person.
Those are some changes I celebrate.  

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