The Christmas Letter

Dear Friends & Family,

Three reasons why we're not sending out a Christmas letter:

#3 Postage is expensive

#2 I don't have anyone's address anymore

#1 I'm lazy

Instead, you get to enjoy this super-modern digital Christmas letter! I know it's not as exciting as getting a legitimate card in the mail, but it's the best I can do (see reason #1 above).

2009 has been a good year for us. We've been here in Maryland now for two years and feel so blessed to call it home. We love it here. We've been in our own home for a year and a half and still feel so lucky to be here. With so much uncertainty in the world right now, we've been incredibly blessed to be where we are.

Now for the good stuff:Seth is almost 17 months old now, which means almost old enough to go to Nursery (our church's childcare for kids 18 months to 3 years old). Two months ago I couldn't believe my baby would be in Nursery. Now I'm ready to drop him off and leave him there until Sunday night. Is it possible for him to be going through the Terrible Two's already? Those temper tantrums look pretty legitimate to me...

It's been a big year for Seth. He's gone from being a immobile blob (but a very cute blob) to full-on running. From single syllable exclamations he's progressed to sentences ("Bear, please"). And from "Serious Seth" he's evolved into a world-class flirt. If you are a girl or woman over the age of 11, watch out. Girls his own age just terrify him. Every day he's learning something new (this week it's been climbing onto the kitchen table). It's amazing how much he's changed in just one year. That old saying about raising children--"The days are long but the weeks are short"--is so absolutely true.

I (Megan) am managing to keep myself just busy enough to have an excuse for not cleaning my house. I'm 2nd Counselor in our church's Young Women's Presidency, which means I get to help out with the 12 and 13 year old girls. All thirteen of them. Between Tuesday activities, Sunday lessons, firesides, presidency meetings and stake activities, some weeks I feel like I should just pack up my room and sleep at the church. But I really love working with these girls, even if I do have to suffer through Twilight discussions over and over and over again...

When I'm not at church I'm teaching piano lessons. At the moment I have 15 students and a waiting list of 7. Any piano teachers feel like moving here and helping me out? Teaching has been a great way to earn a little extra money, plus let Seth (and me) interact with lots of different people. That flirting I was talking about earlier? It's directed mostly at my students' mothers.

The rest of my time is occupied by my wifely and motherly duties. Some days it's overwhelming, some days its mind-numbing, but mostly it's the best job I've ever had. And, of course, I still manage to sneak in some reading when I should be cooking/cleaning. My house hasn't been mopped in weeks, but I made it through Vanity Fair and Bleak House!

Jon is in his final year of the AMC Fellows Program. He's currently "interning" with JPM NBC CA (10 extra credit points if you have any idea what that stands for) on the Edgewood side of APG, but will head back to AMSAA on the Aberdeen side in January where he will transition to a permanent position. He seems to be enjoying his work. Occasionally he tries to explain to me what he's working on, but it usually involves math and/or chemistry--my two weakest subjects. Something to do with detecting chemical agents, Google Earth, and a trip to Dugway, Utah.

The highlight of Seth's day is when Jon comes home from work. Jon is a fabulous dad--he knows all the right ways to entertain the Monster Man. From the moment he walks in the door, Seth is his shadow until bedtime. I love it (and not just because that leaves me free to actually cook dinner). When he's not being Daddy (and sometimes when he is), you'll find him downstairs on his computer. "Doing our finances" usually ends up turning into Diablo II or Civilization IV. Sometimes he'll read a book instead, but only ones that his sister Mary recommends. He doesn't like my books.

And that's 2009 for us! Now if both of our cars will just make it one more year and stop breaking down before every temple trip, we'll be perfectly content. We love you all and hope that next year will find you all happy and well.

Love, The Bloods~ Jonathan, Megan & Seth

"For unto us a child is born..."

For Now We See Through a Glass, Darkly...

2009 has been a wonderful year for our little family. I feel so humble when I think about everything we have been blessed with.

On the other hand, this year has been one of many sorrows. During the past 12 months I have had many, many of my good friends lose their babies during various stages of pregnancy. Some lost them soon after conceiving. Some had already heard a heartbeat and thought they were past the fear of miscarrying. Some had literally experienced miracles, but weren't able to carry the child full term. Every time, I cried for them.

Finding out you're expecting means so much more than I realized. Immediately you begin thinking of how life will change. "By this time next year I'll have a 3 month old." "Next Christmas I'll have a little one around." Your whole paradigm suddenly changes, never to be the same again.

And that's what makes it so hard to lose a pregnancy. It's not just the loss of a tiny life, which is tragic enough. It's also the loss of all your plans--all the hopes, dreams, and preparations for the future.

One week ago a dear friend from church lost her little girl days before she was due to deliver. We've all spent the past week grieving, trying to understand why this was part of the Lord's plan. It hasn't been easy for me to understand. I'm not angry so much as I am frustrated and confused.

The one thing that's given me peace is this sweet mother's incredible faith. Would I be able to write, just days after losing my little one, "Blessed be the name of the Lord"? I don't know. But because her faith is so strong, I've felt mine grow, too.

This is what I know: Our Heavenly Father knows each of us and cares about us deeply. I know He is watching over each of my grieving friends. I also know that He has a plan. Sometimes it's difficult to understand, but it is in place. We just don't remember the beginning and can't fully comprehend the end. So we're left to muddle through the middle and pray that the answers will come, one day.

But I know this much about the end: these mothers will one day hold these little ones in their arms again. That knowledge has made this Christmas season so much more poignant for me this year. Because of that baby born 2,000 years ago, these little ones will live again, reunited with their families for eternity.

And for those who have to live the rest of their lives with a hole in their hearts? There is solace. "Surely he hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows." I know that these mothers grieve longer and more deeply than most of us could comprehend, but I know that they are not alone. Even when it seems like there is no one in the world who understands their pain, there is always One who has carried all our sorrows and knows how to succor His people.

And that's why we celebrate this season. We celebrate the birth of our Savior, who gives us this hope and made it possible for us to see our loved ones again. I don't think I've fully understood and appreciated this Gift until this year. But I also know that I will never forget.

"For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face:
now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known."

(My sweet friend Val has a blog to share her experiences here. Sweet Sommer wrote about her loss here (there are three posts, right in a row--click 'Newer Post' to read all three). Incredible Catherine shares the story of her Mariah here and here. Others have shared their experiences, too, but I won't link to you unless you're okay with it).

Thanksgiving

Ready for some math? (Don't worry--it's simple)

10 kids
-1 kid serving a mission in Chile
+2 parents
+4 spouses
+4 grandchildren

=19 people in one house

Yes, it's a little crazy, but we wouldn't do it if we didn't enjoy it. We were able to spend a week in West Virginia with Jon's family and had a great time.

After the disaster that was last Christmas, we learned from our mistake and put Seth in his own room. Which meant we had to share a room with Kade and Elizabeth, but they were very gracious about it. Jon even designed a partition out of toy boxes so we had our 'own' rooms. It worked fabulously, but it's only a matter of time before we run out of bedrooms!

We all had a great time, but Seth was in HEAVEN. A 5 gallon bucket, full of cars? Another bucket, full of balls? And an Uncle Jakey to play with him all day long? I seriously felt like I never saw the child. He was so exhausted from playing all day that he slept like a dream the entire time we were there.
We didn't do much besides hang out together. There was a lot of Wii playing, a soccer game, kickball game, and lots of inside game playing (don't ask Jon about the Rook game). My favorite part was watching Seth while we played kickball & soccer. He'd run around the field, pointing at people and babbling away. Sometimes he'd even get himself worked up to a yell. He was a great little coach. Unfortunately, he had to continue his coaching from the trampoline so he wouldn't get run over.
Thanksgiving dinner was delicious. I got to help by making the rolls and a lemon meringue pie. My only complaint is that there are NEVER leftovers. Bloods don't believe in leftovers--they stuff themselves as full as they can because they know there won't be more later. Guess that's what happens when you grow up with 9 siblings...

(Seth & Megan trying to figure out why they can't get to each other)

It was fun watching the grandkids (sort of) play together. Seth, Rebekah & Megan were all born within 6 months of each other. Next Christmas they'll all be 2--it will be a very exciting vacation!

(Seth & Rebekah going on a walk. Everything was great until she turned around to look at him. As soon as he realized she was in there, he clamored to get out. Poor wimp is still afraid of little girls)

Of course, the best part was seeing Jon's brother, Stephen, who just got home from a mission to Spain. We got to hear all his stories, see his pictures, and enjoy his fabulous cooking (he made us a Thai dish--go figure). And he got to meet the 2 nieces and 1 nephew he'd acquired while he was gone.

I'm quite proud of the fact that we only managed to forget three things during all the chaos of leaving: the breadmachine yeast I bought for the rolls, my library book, and my camera cord. Could have been worse. After all, Mary forgot her wallet...(Scott, Mary & Rebekah headed home at exactly the same time we did, so it was extra chaotic for all of us to make sure we had everything we owned).

(Our son: The Cheeseball)

I am grateful for many, many, many things, and our family is one of the biggest reasons I have to give thanks.Happy Thanksgiving!

Baby Steps

Bringing a newborn child into your home is a little terrifying. For the first several months of his life, you are EVERYTHING to him--food, protection, warmth, and entertainment.

Then, slowly, he starts doing things for himself. He sits up. He feeds himself. He plays alone for short intervals.

Finally, he starts to walk. He'll start by cruising around the room, holding on to the furniture. As he gets braver, he'll stand unsupported for a moment before he realizes what he's doing and sits down in terror.

Because walking is scary. The idea of letting go of your support and venturing across the room alone keeps many children from trying.

But one day it will be worth it. One day there will be something across the room that makes it worth all the fear, and he'll go. And suddenly your baby isn't a baby anymore--he's growing up.

Not to say that it will be easy from now on. He'll still lose his balance, trip over toys and run into corners. For a few months he'll have a perpetual goose egg on his forehead. But with practice comes confidence, and the bruises will fade.

So why do we let our babies fall down and get hurt? Wouldn't it be easier to just carry them wherever they want to go? After all, they're just little! They need all the help they can get.

The problem is that they don't stay little. Eventually your baby will become too heavy for you to carry, and then what do you do? You've carried him for so long that he's never learned to walk! Better to let him work his way through the fear and bruises than to leave him totally dependent on you.

But what if instead of a child, you have an adult? An adult who, because of traumatic circumstances and poor decisions, is still completely dependent on those around her? An adult who has her own little child to care for? Then it's not so simple anymore.

It's easier to be carried than it is to walk. And once you've been carried around for so many years, the thought of walking gets scarier and scarier. So when someone tries to put you down--to get you to take just a few steps, they'll hold your hand--you rebel. You push them away so completely that you're left sitting on the ground alone, waiting for the next person to feel sorry and pick you up.

The problem is that no one can carry you around forever. Like a child, eventually you get too heavy for people to bear. It's a natural consequence. After being put down so many times you should start to realize that everyone else is walking--everyone except you. And maybe you should take the hand that's offered, and try a few steps on your own. It will be hard at first. There will be fear, mistakes, and pain. Just stand up and try again. It gets easier with time.

But you don't want to try. You push away from the arms that have carried you for so long and wait there on the sidewalk for someone else. You'll never learn to walk until there's no one left to carry you. And then you'll have to do it all alone--no hand to hold. No one to help you back up. And you'll wish that you had taken the help when it was offered.

And how do the rest of us feel? Those of us who carried you for a while before you got too heavy? Who decided that it was time for you to learn to be independent? Who offered to hold your hand and were cruelly shoved away? We're angry. And hurt. But mostly, we're sad. Sad because we thought we were helping you learn to walk, but instead you used us to carry you. Sad because by the time you're forced to learn, it may be too late for you to teach your daughter.

We're angry and hurt, but we can't stop worrying about you. And since you've pushed us away, there's nothing we can do but pray. Pray that somehow you'll learn, and that when that time comes there will be someone to help you. We just wish you would have let us be that person.