I put off setting up the tree until Sunday night. David's ornaments were waiting in the box up there in the cold attic, calling to me, telling me it would be okay, I just needed to put them up on the tree with all the other kids', like always. I was alright until I came to David's first ornament. It was made by the women who took care of David in the nursery at Staples Mill Road Baptist Church Day Care Center (now it's a "Child Development Center" :-)), while I was a teacher there for the two-year-olds, and pregnant with Mark. It has a photograph of David about eight months old- round-faced, bald, and Santa-capped, with big, round, bright eyes, plump little kiss-me lips and pink cheeks. It's glued to one side of a juice concentrate lid and has a cross-stitched circle, "David's First Christmas", on the other side. There's red crocheted lace around the edge. When I unwrapped it I cried right away, laughing ad sobbing, brushing my fingers across his perfect little face. Then I hung him as our angel at the top. Brenda stood beside me and gave me a hug, without a word. Perfect. Then she and Grace helped put the rest of the ornaments on the tree; we set up the nativity on the mantle, and hung the stockings. We left David's stocking in the storage box. It was hard for me to close the lid on that box.

I feel like I have this big aching hole inside, like an open sore that hurts all day long, making me shaky and tearful. I walk a little hunched over, and by the end of the school day I'm tired and ready to break down and cry, just to get relief. It's also like having a huge weight tied around my waist. I'm dragging this heavy sadness with me everywhere. Danny told me that he thinks this weight will always be with me, but I'm the one who decides how heavy it has to be. I'll think about that.

Can I get through these holidays without crying buckets of tears and dragging everyone I care about down into a pit of sadness with me? Can I be the MOM that makes Christmas what moms are supposed to make them? I want to be. I want our family time (we're all going to the beach for three days) to be a bright, happy time, remembering David and the good times we all had with him while we celebrate a new Christmas and a New Year, looking ahead and hoping for good things to come. I've got a feeling that's all going to be easier said than done.

Will you pray for me? Let me be a source of strength and confidence, a serene and happy influence in our family holiday, bringing a sense of confidence and peace that we are all going to be okay; David is watching over us and wants us to be happy. We are all going to be okay, and we can be even stronger for having shared this loss and pain.

I'll be okay until I serve the oyster stew on Christmas Eve.

xxoo