One Year Ago

As the anniversary of Nathan and Midi's death has approached, I've definitely been thinking a lot about "this time last year". A year ago on the 26th, Midi and I went out to dinner and to see "Juno" together, our last girls-night-out. A year ago on the 30th, our family spent the night at the Mikasa house; the kids ran around in and outside of the house for hours, we had a nice dinner together, we shared about the highlights of 2007 for each of us, the kids jumped on the boys' beds post-bath in various stages of dress, the adults actually got to have a nice evening together after the kids went to bed. My last memory of Midi and Nathan is of the two of them, along with Mark and Lucas, waving good-bye to us in their front yard the next morning.

Looking back on those couple of days a year ago, they seem to me in retrospect the last time I experienced a sense of contentment with my life. That kind of peace is much harder to achieve for me these days. While I can't wait for 2008 to be over, I find it hard to be very hopeful about 2009. I am more relieved that I won't have to get through the first year without Midi and Nathan again than hopeful that the coming year will be better in any way. Both the big picture hopes and dreams I had for my life, as well as many of the smaller plans I made even during the course of this year, have been eroded. Other than wanting Emma and Soren to mature and thrive, there's not a whole lot left that I'm hoping for in life right now.

I don't necessarily think this will be a permanent state. The times I've experienced God's love most strongly this last year have been the few occasions where I've seen Him initiate things in my life in definite and unexpected ways. So there's also some hope and experience that He will continue to make a path for me and my family. But right now that path is rather murky, and it's hard for me to have much sense of anticipation or excitement for it. I'm going into 2009 still upright but pretty weary and somewhat aimless. But perhaps God will make up for my lack of energy and vision, and do better for me than I could do on my own.