Lost Normal

It's a busy week for all four of my girls.  Christmas parties at school, preparations at home.  There is always so much to do and so much I want to get done.  I love this time of year!  Even in Florida where it's not so cold and doesn't look particularly wintry with the palm trees swaying.  I still get excited waiting for Christmas to come.

For many years, this was a difficult time for me.  I'd shop for gifts and wonder what Emily and Abby would want.  They can't exactly make a list and there are so many things they can't physically do-- shopping was hard!  I will tell you right now, I cried many a-tear in the middle of the toy store.  I wanted the girls to have a normal, happy holiday.  I, like many people couldn't understand how they could really enjoy it without the excitement of getting just what they'd hoped for under the tree or without spending all day playing with your new present.  What was Christmas morning if you couldn't tip toe out to the tree to see if Santa had been there?  Was it really as much fun without whispering secrets in Santa's ear?  I saw it as another thing we gave up having children with disabilities.  Another Lost Norm.

You know what?   Sometimes losing normal is okay.  So much of what I've learned from my girls is that God's idea of normal is usually very different from my own.  I don't think there's anything wrong with me wanting Emily and Abby to enjoy Christmas the way others do, but their normal will never be mine.  They've never known tip-toeing out to the tree.  They never saw a toy in the store and wished for it or told Santa what they wanted.  They never wondered if the perfect present was under the tree.  They didn't lose those things.  I did. 

They loved waking up Christmas day and being carried to the living room.  Their faces lit up.  They LOVED tearing open the paper.  I got to put it their little hands and watch their eyes get bigger as the paper tears more and more.  We all stop and watch each person open that one gift like it's the only one.  I turn to Hannah and Sarah and watch them open their gifts just as slowly and with purpose so their sisters can see.  I am overcome with gratitude.  We had to learn to stop and really focus on the things the girls could do and not what they couldn't, then we had to slow down and wait for little fingers to open those special gifts. 

We are so very blessed because no matter what is in that package, God has taken the time to show us as a family to look past the trees and past my ideas of normal and see that in my own hustle and bustle I would have missed that look in my girls' eyes.  I would look at the perfect gift I thought I gave rather than the perfect gift given to me.

It's so easy to spend too much time grieving our losses, especially during the holidays when the idea of "perfect and normal" could easily swallow us whole.  As important as having that time to grieve my own loss was, I am so excited that through that process God has shown me to open my heart to his normal.  How he must see me the way I see the twins and wish that I could know the joy that He wants me to know.  How he wants his little girl to wake up and really see Christmas the way I want my little girls to wake up and see it.  Excited.  Joyful.  Grateful.  Loved. 

Every year I see more and more what I'm supposed to see because I'm looking up more and more.  This is supposed to be real, so I have to say I'm not completely there yet.  I still get those twinges of sadness.  I still feel loss sometimes.  I probably always will, but I will never stay there.  I know the way to normal. 

Philippians 3:7-11