Christmas joy.

This was it. This was the year I could finally exhale. Breathe.

She is home. They’re all here. Here, under my roof. Safe.

The tree is lit and the twinkling lights are reflected in four sets of eyes full of wonder.

It’s all too good. Blessings overflowing.

Even still, the days leading into this Christmas were laced with a range of emotions. Joy, yes. Joy was palpable. But, out along the edges, pushed far enough to the side that I almost didn’t recognize them – loomed apprehension, anticipation and dread.

Parenting a child from hard places, a little heart dealing with hurt and abandonment and trauma, is hard on the best days. But, on “big days”, it feels unbelievably daunting.

We have had two very quiet days at home, post-Christmas. I have had time to reflect on the past week, on this season. I’m slowly realizing the emotions I had been trying so hard to suffocate. I was afraid to set expectations too high this year. This is Sylvie’s first year home. It would just be hard. We would keep it simple and as calm as possible, but we would walk in with eyes wide open. We would anticipate a hard couple of days.

Hard days feel like walking on a battle ground. Stemming with defiance, tantrums, dissociation, control struggles. Always ending in exhaustion.

I was prepared for a hard day.

Even if my mind was ready, my heart still yearned for joy and peace and excitement. I bathed our home and our littles in prayer.  I asked for peace and healing and joy.

Oh, friends. It happened. I’m still overwhelmed as I reflect on the answered prayers of Christmas Eve and Christmas day.

Church service and then time with Dave’s side of the family afterward on Christmas eve. Our family get togethers are the best kind of loud and chaotic. There was love and laughter and so much excitement.

Sylvie had a few moments where I could see her starting to spiral. I simply took her to another room to calm down and quiet her heart as soon as I saw the signs of impending unraveling. She was able to reset and join back in the celebration.

She was full of delight as she opened gifts and heard Santa call her name with the box of PJ’s he brings each year.

As he handed her those pajamas, my eyes welled with tears. The past two years have brought pi’s for my girl so far away. I’ve kept them folded in my closet as she outgrew them a world away. This year, she opened her box and put them on immediately. It was a picture of redemption if I have ever seen one.

Christmas morning was calm and peaceful and perfect. Dave and I both woke up at 5:30 in a panic realizing Charlotte was not awake. I ran to her room only to find her sleeping peacefully. A Christmas miracle, right there. 🙂

We made coffee, watched the sunrise, read the Bible, and listened to Christmas hymns. It felt like we were playing make-believe with our old life of lingering mornings with piping hot mugs of coffee cupped in our hands.

Charlotte woke to eat {it is worth mentioning that she was woken up by the fire alarm after Dave made quite the roaring fire in the fireplace} and we just snuggled and giggled with our girl for almost thirty minutes before the boys finally started stirring upstairs. We let them come down and open a few gifts while we waited for Sylvie to wake. Sylvie never sleeps that late, but what a blessing it was to have such sweet moments with our boys. They took turns opening packages and cheering one another on as they revealed each new treasure.

With just these two, there was no competition for attention, no battle for affection, I could simply be present and enjoy the moment.

After opening a few gifts, the boys decided to get to work on their lego construction and Sylvie woke up and joined us. She was able to have our full attention while she opened a couple of her gifts. She was surprised and elated to find gifts waiting for her. I laugh when I try to imagine what must have been going on inside her little head.

We separated gifts into a couple of small piles in different rooms of the house in order to prevent Sylvie from getting overwhelmed. It actually worked out perfectly for everyone. The boys were able to take their time playing with their new toys instead of ripping open package after package and discarding the toys into a giant heap.

After the first round of gifts, we ate breakfast. Oh my. It was delicious. Make-ahead french toast bake.  {Make this and thank me later}.

Then, stockings were opened. M&M’s were consumed in mass quantities and the last pile of gifts were attended to. The littles were all so patient as they each took turns opening their packages.

My heart was postitively bursting with love for these precious little people.

Dave and I lingered with coffee amidst paper and boxes strewn about the house for several hours. The boys were hard at work with their new trucks and Sylvie was caring for her baby. It was absolute perfection.

The last surprise was in the barn. Santa put the new trampoline together in the cover of the barn without measuring the opening of the door. Oops. So, at least for the winter months, or until Dave can take it apart, it will remain inside the barn.

They were all surprised and elated. Jumping and squealing and laughter ensued. I taught everyone a few moves from way back in the day. We laughed and laughed and laughed.

The day ended with dinner with extended family. More gifts. More food. And, still, no disaster. No unraveling. Just joy. My cup runneth over. Blessed. Grateful. Full.