Halloween was like a Norman Rockwell image this year. I am longing for simpler times. I can’t help myself. And lately…I have been pleasantly surprised at how frequently I capture an image of my life in my mind and realize how neatly it fits into an old Rockwell or Kinkade painting.
Case in point. Sure…important children are missing from the picture because they are either eating lollipops, being too old to dress up, or perfecting their home-made Freddy finger knives off camera…but still. What a perfect image here. Adorable, traditional costumes…orange sprinkled Halloween cookies…wind blown piggy tails…and big pre-trick or treat grins.
And good friends, of course. We can’t forget about the most important thing. Good friends.
Twin witches who called their boots “witchy boots” and a pirate fit for a Caribbean ship lit up the sidewalk…and our night.
For the record…I never tell her to do these serious poses. These are candid shots. And I adore them. Because they capture her. She can be so serious…and then break into the greatest laughter on a dime.
In this particular shot…she was looking across the street to see if her friend had come out yet…and her awkward, crossed footed stance is just soooo her…and makes me smile.
UK pulled his trailer for a hayride. Can we all just agree on how amazingly fun hayrides are??
UK dressed the part as our driver…eliciting squeals of laughter from his nieces and looks of sheer embarrassment from his nephews.
I just think he wanted an excuse to wear all that hair. But I didn’t tell him that.
This morning…I called my dad. We joked that I was already watching Hallmark Christmas movies…allowing the Season to roll in, in full swing. He said, “You know what’s gonna happen…don’t you??? You know how you get…” And I laughed and knowingly replied, “I know Dad. I know.” Because he was referring to my inability to control my Elf-like spirit and Christmas cheer to the point that when the day actually arrives…I’m too sad to enjoy it. Because I’m more focused on the fact that it’s going to be gone within a few hours than I am the joyful fact that it has finally arrived. I think I suffer from PTHD. Post Traumatic Holiday Disorder. It’s the Christmas blues. But I assured him that this year was going to be different…because I am learning the discipline of letting go of the seasons passed…instead of holding onto what was or what could have been. And it is a discipline. I will always have that choice to make.
I can either focus on the fact that December 26th is the day my grandfather died and, coincidentally, the due date for a baby that I didn’t get to hold here on Earth…or…I can focus on all of the wonderful that December 25th brings with it. Because the truth is…that December 25th brings the most important baby of all…the Savior of our world…of our pain…of our sadness and suffering. He is the same God that holds that baby now and listens to my Grandpa’s soft stories and laughs with and loves the people that I miss. And that will always be. Every year. December 26th has always been a sad day for me…even as a young child. And now it holds new meaning…and new sadness. But December 25th brings the hope and the truth that makes it all okay. And it is. It is all okay.
So I am letting the cool, Fall air usher in a new season…and with it, new promises of dreams coming true. You just never know what the Lord has in store day to day…month to month…year to year…for His children that love Him.
You just never know.
And there is nothing but joy in that.
This year will definitely be different, Dad.
Definitely.