This time last year

There is nothing sweeter than snuggling with a baby girl who smells fresh and clean after her bedtime bath while listening to the Nutcracker under the glow of Christmas twinkle lights...

...and a year ago today I had no idea what a life changing miracle lay ahead of me. A year ago tomorrow I woke up early, checked my temperature, decided to hope one more time that the pregnancy test would be positive. I remember being absolutely shocked that it said "Pregnant." My carefully imagined plans of how to tell Mike flew out the window and I just grabbed him, brought him into the bathroom, and said "LOOK AT THAT!" He thought he was in trouble for leaving the toilet seat up or something, so I had to point to the test... and then we both laughed, cried, and wondered at the mercy of God who answers even when we stop believing, hoping, or praying.

This time last year I didn't want to keep hoping that "this time next year" there would be a little one making our Christmas so much sweeter. It hurts to keep hoping sometimes when your hopes keep getting dashed. But I've learned: hope against hope. Don't give up. Don't become bitter and cynical while you're waiting (like I did). And who knows what will have happened in our lives "this time next year."

"Turn up the lights so we can see
The red-head grandson on your knee
Better hold him while you can
He'll be walking soon
This time next year you'll want to take him
Down the old road behind your house
To show him the sun on the autumn fields
To smell the wind-blown alfalfa
To look out where the geese are rising
For their southern flight
Circling arrows in the sky
Above the ditches and the cottonwood


This time next year
There'll be stories to tell
And he will listen to you, quiet in your arms
And there'll be songs to sing him
While he goes to sleep
When we gather in your home
This time next year

The boy is laughing on your knee
Hold him up so we can see
Hold him high because we're lifted
In his laughter
And in the gladness he has brought you
As you walk these heavy lives


-Fernando Ortega