It's Not as Glamourous as You Think...

We all know that the summer nights have very little of interest to watch on TV.  For that reason, my husband and I often find ourselves watching repeats of things which we have already seen.  Old episodes of Law and Order: SVU. Two and a Half Men and the Big Bang Theory occupy our evenings after the children are asleep.  Lately, we have rediscovered Friends.

I have all 1o seasons on DVD, and this is a show which is near and dear to both of us; so many of our earliest relationship memories revolve around this show.  The episodes which are currently airing are depicting Phoebe's triplet pregnancy, and I'm finding it really hard to deal.

I'll admit, I laughed right along with the rest of America when Phoebe carried her brother's children and gave birth to them.  Her brother, Frank, announcing, "My sister's having my baby!!!!!", is still one of my favorite Friends moments of all time; however,  the episodes that follow are painfully difficult to watch.  

It seems that multiple births are so glamorized these days.  The triplet ogres in Shrek, there are triplet boys in Brave, John and Kate Plus 8, Table for 10, Quints By Surprise, we are all obsessed with multiples.  But for some of us, this is not an oddity, not something at which we should gawk and whisper as the family passes by.  For some of us, this is life, it is real, it is everyday, and we would not have it any other way... almost.

If I could change one thing about my life, it would be to have Boe here.  It would be to have my group of 3 intact, whole... complete.  From the moment we found out there were 3 of them, that's how we planned, that's what we envisioned for ourselves; 3 little princes with one princess to preside over them.

Alas, that is not what the Lord had in store for us, and we have honestly made our peace with that fact.  It does not change the fact that there is forever a piece missing and that to have that missing piece so frivolously thrown in our faces stings, just a bit.

To watch Phoebe joke about carrying a litter and eating for three, to see her hold all three of them at once and speak words of love and inspiration to all three is like a knife in my heart.  I no longer laugh when I see this; I turn the channel and try not to cry.  Instead of holding all three at once, I held one and cried for him, and I held the other two and told them about their other brother.  A brother with whom they spent so much time in such close proximity, but would never get to wrestle with or play.  A brother who gave up so much so that they may thrive.  A little boy who is so deeply cherished and missed, a little boy  who makes it impossible for me to laugh at the cavalier manner in which multiple pregnancies are displayed.  

It's not all laughs and silly Phoebe'isms, people.  It really happens, sometimes things go wrong, and it really sucks.  Sometimes people stop laughing, so why does everybody else still think it's so funny?

The House of the Lord

I'll admit it, since Boe died, I have had a very hard time with church.  I am way past the "How could God do this to me?" phase.  I am no longer angry or willing to take issue with Him; afterall, he takes care of my baby and loves and protects him as I never could.

I have a hard time with church because it is the last place that I saw Boe right in front of my eyes.  He was physically present in the vestibule of the church before his service and in the church with us during the ceremony.  I'll always remember what it was like to watch the little blue box that held his remains be carried to a car and driven off, forever out of my arms.  It happened on the steps of the church, and for that reason, it has been so hard for me to return.

When we do go to church, I often find myself standing in the circle right in the center of the vestibule, that is where his little box lay as we greeted friends and family before his service began.  As odd as this may seem, I truly feel him there, and it is the only place in the church where I feel at peace.

What is the answer?  Do I avoid church forever?  No. I still believe, wholeheartedly, in God and the miracle of his creations.  I want my children to be raised knowing that there is a being so much bigger and more powerful than we, someone to whom we can always turn in our darkest hour or greatest triumph.

Maybe there is hope.  Just recently, Brody was baptized.  We had to go to mass not only to have him anointed, but for his Christrening as well. For the first time in a longtime, I was able to stand in church and recall certain aspects of Boe's service while simulataneuosly rejoicing for Brody.  I was able to hear the "Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star / Jesus Loves Me" medley without being reduced to tears.  I was able to sit right up front without being paralyzed by the fact that one of the last times I sat there was at Boe's service.

Isn't that how it's supposed to be though?  With God I mean.  Isn't He supposed to stand next to us in celebration and then carry us when our burdens are simply too much to bare?  Maybe that is why convening in His house is so important, regardless of the events through which we are currently passing.  Being in His home reminds us that we always have a place.  A place where we can go to shed feelings of sadness and give them over to Him; a place where we can go to turn our faces to the heavens in joy and celebration; a place where we can bridge the gap between the physical and spiritual plane to feel those we love the most around us.