A Baby Changes Everything

It's two or three or four in the morning and I'm up for perhaps the third time. Her demanding wails come softly at first, then, if I'm not quite swift enough, with more intensity and panic. She wants to be held, cuddled, loved, soothed and fed, rocked and walked and tucked peacefully back into the crib. Her arms reach up for me expectantly and the wailing is replaced by a tiny, seven and a half toothed smile. We walk over to the worn, much loved blue rocking chair and draw up the quilt to fight off the chill. She begins to feed and her big blue eyes gently close, moonlight on her soft pink cheeks. As I sit and stroke the feathery soft baby hair I am filled with wonder and devotion to my sweet little girl. I ponder how much my life has changed in the last year. I remember weeks of anticipation and days of dreaming, wondering what she'd look like, who she'd become. I remember the fear, wondering if I was really ready to take charge of a sweet little one. I had no clue how hard it could be, how difficult the nights of crying and teething and sickness would be and how it wouldn't matter. How my heart would forever be softened and filled with joy because of this sweet little daughter of God, dreaming in my arms. And for a moment, if only for a moment, my mind is drawn to another little baby, another sweet little miracle born hundreds of years and thousands of miles ago in Bethlehem. I wonder how Mary must have felt as she held her son, hers, but not really hers, in her arms. I imagine it must have been difficult to comprehend the miracles He'd perform, the teachings He'd bless us with, and the final, ultimate sacrifice of her baby boy.
I watch the news and am filled with sadness and sorrow at the terrible shootings in Connecticut. My mind is filled with horror at the terror the victims must have felt, the pain of the families and surviving children, the empty stockings never again to be filled. I know that the grief of these families won't be lessened overnight, the answers will not satisfy, will never make up for the loss of these sweet children. But, because of the birth of Jesus Christ, his life and Atonement, and ultimately His victory over death and Resurrection, there will come a time where the pain is eased and replaced with peace. There will come a reunion, an understanding. A baby truly changes everything. Merry Christmas and may Heaven bless.

Painting the Roses Red

     Let's face it, I'm a mess. I am wearing a trash bag over my shirt and my hands are covered in red spots. I may or may not have vine ripened tomato colored highlights in my hair. The door jamb is pink and let's just say it's a good thing we're re tiling the entry way. Why does it look like I've committed murder by stabbing? Because we got a letter from the home owners association.
     We've lived in our condo for almost two years now with the same white, neat and clean front door, which, because of  the fence surrounding our unit, is barely visible from the parking lot. So we were fairly surprised when we got a notice stating that our front door had to be red and we had a week to do it. I am a stickler for rules, even if I disagree with them, so the notice sent me into a near state of obsession. 
     When we went off to home depot, the budget nut kicked in when I looked at the price of paint. I was thrilled to find a bucket of red paint in the oops pile for only $7. It was even exterior paint. With some paint tools and our bucket of paint, we checked out and went home.
     I grew up mostly in a series of rental homes and so painting conjured up images of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Fin white washing the family fence, making a game out of a chore and having a blast. Sarah, the ten month old house destruction artist, was taking a nap and I had Pinterest directions, so how hard could it be?
     The first coat went on and if the roller didn't quite get enough paint to cover the snow white door, so what? I knew I had at least two more coats to go!  I waited the half hour the directions on the internet suggested (and yes, I really did sit around watching paint dry!) and tried for the second coat. I guess I should have waited a bit longer because the first coat came off with the paint! I was horrified but what could I do but add more paint! I waited the half hour and added a third coat.  Now I'm looking at the door, and it is definitely red, but not the more subtle red of the neighbors' doors. Santa would be proud. Rudolph could hide his nose! Bulls may be a problem with the brightness of this red! This streaky, almost wood grained look on my steel front door. I feel like I really messed up somewhere. The roller looked like I was painting on ceiling popcorn and the brush looked like lines. Next time, I think I'll leave this "honey do!" to the very talented honey. But I may want to cover up that floor before he gets home... Re-tiling here I come!