Then came seven.

Spencer, buddy,

Tomorrow, you turn seven.

Seven.

7?

She-vehn.

I don't know why, but this number has thrown me for such a loop. I mused to someone that I think it's because the two syllables make it sound much bigger than it is.   Thinking about that, I have to laugh, because you sure like to point out the number of syllables in words.

Six.  You're still six.  I hear you in your bedroom, not sleeping like you promised me you would be doing.  You're still only one syllable.

Tomorrow, it's two.  But only for a year, then you can back down to one syllable for a couple more years and maybe my heart will be able to handle it a bit better than this milestone.

We've talked lately about how you were the one who made me a mom.  You like to share the credit (rightly so) with your siblings.  But buddy, it was you.  Seven years ago, I hadn't seen your face.  And now, I can't imagine my life without you, your brother, and your sister.  I was born to be a mommy, and I'm so thankful that you are the one who made me so.

Spencer, you've grown, again, so much in the last year.  You've taken the kindness of your heart that has always been there, and somehow multiplied it.  You tell people that you're a "kindness ninja" and it's true.  I've seen it with my own eyes, in how you will run across a grocery store aisle to help an elderly lady pick up a bunch of change she accidentally dropped, without hesitation or anyone asking you.  You pick up change in our home on Sunday mornings and you bring it to church for offering.  You help your sister put on her shoes or socks in the morning if you're ready before she is.  You proclaim that you'll never run out of hugs for people you love.  You love to donate things to people in need.   You willingly, patiently, taught both of your siblings to climb the pine tree outside, and have guided them step by step down and out of it on multiple occasions. It all comes so naturally to you.

Of course, we all have our moments where we might not be so kind, but your kindness far outweighs that side of things.  I'm so proud to call you my son.

I'll be honest... you try my patience in ways I don't always understand... but really, I delight in you.

Over the course of this last year, I think you've somehow touched the lives of even more people.  I have been approached by numerous "new" people this year who have told me they can see Jesus in your heart, see your kindness, and how God has great things in store for you.  I've been told by many that you're a blessing to them.

It makes my heart sing.

I love watching you come into your own and see your personality develop.  I'll be honest, you're at an awkward stage right now, where you're not only getting even taller and lankier, but you're a little socially awkward in some situations, and you have this weird desire to pose like some sort of hip-hop dude from the early 1990s when I want to take photos of you.   You love to wear dress shirts with active wear, you don't care if your pants are too short or your shoes are untied, and you make awkward nonsensical jokes and statements to people when you're nervous, and then laugh at yourself like it's the funniest thing that's ever happened.  It's an interesting time.  I think I love it.  You're also trying to fit in with larger groups of kids your age and older, while still holding onto your innocence and enjoying spending time with children younger than you.  I remember those awkward years and I will say you've got a lot in store for you.  But, you're going to be awesome.

I can't wait to see what is around the bend.  Your love for music and worship is growing, and I believe there's great things in store for you there.  Your desire for reading and science is developing more deeply, and you are so very smart.  You've got great athleticism inside that body, too.  You've so many wonderful facets.

You are a treasure, little man.

I pray that this next year is rich with blessings, laughter, hugs, and fun memories with your family and your friends.  I pray that your heart never hardens, and your love continues to grow.  I pray that you'll be a blessing to even more and touch the lives of countless others.  I pray that you won't lose your love for hugs and cuddles yet, because I'm not ready to let that go.

Happy Birthday, mister man.

You are so deeply loved.

Especially by me.

-Mom

To me, at the end of thirty-three...

Dear Me,

Here I am, the last day of the last year of my life, once again.  Tomorrow, a new day of a new year begins.

I usually write these letters to my children, hoping someday they'll come across them and read them, and see how much I loved them, my thoughts and feelings about each passing year of their lives, and see the growth and change we've all went through.

This year, instead of avoiding and trying to awkwardly accept birthday greetings, I'm embracing, without sadness or reserve.  Or, at least I'm going to try.  It's decided.

The past couple of days, especially, have been... odd.  I cannot think of a better way to describe them, but I spent many moments wondering if my birthday really had any meaning for myself, whether or not I should tell my children about it, how awkward it is to tell my children about it, whether or not it would be a big deal to them, whether or not they would be upset if my birthday passed and they didn't know about it, whether they'd be upset if they heard others wish me a happy birthday and feel like I was keeping it from them.  I spent time irritated with their father for bailing on us multiple times, and angry with him for leaving me to make all the special occasions special, birthdays meaningful, and so forth.  I was annoyed that he isn't around to tell them about my birthday himself, and help them make cards or gifts or whatever goofy little things their hearts desired, and not wanting to have to do it myself, because it's just so weird.

So I resigned to talking about my birthday with my Bean, and letting them overhear, and her telling them about it and getting them excited, so I wouldn't have to on my own.

So odd. So awkward.

And now, here we are.  The night before the "big day."  The day that I entered this world... 34 years ago.

I've had my share of fun birthdays.  I've definitely had a lot of memorable ones.  But it seems like the past three years were a struggle.

In 2014, after all, my world came crashing down.  It crashed on my birthday.  The man who promised me would come back and fight for his family and work on his marriage after taking "a break," had gotten his unemployed (at his support and urging) wife and his three small children evicted from their home, and refused to really help them find a new one (or even help out with packing or childcare while his wife tried to find a place to live).  It lead to a short stay with a friend (to whom I will forever be grateful), a stay at the homeless shelter, and months in transitional housing, while tracking him down for a divorce after he completely abandoned and disappeared.

I don't sit and dwell on it often, and I certainly try not to let it bog me down.  Today, though, I sat in a dark, silent room, thinking about my upcoming anniversary of birth, and I realized that it's been three years since that birthday that started the real crash and spiral.

As I thought about it, though, I began to feel uplifted.

To quote myself earlier, "Three years ago tomorrow, my world came crashing down, and it felt like my hopes and dreams for my life were all dying. It was the most devastating and overwhelming birthday.

But now, three years later, I look back and see that in that figurative death, it was a day of rebirth. A day to celebrate my birth into this world, but also the day where a new life was birthed for me. This year, I celebrate both of my birth-days, and reflect on how far I've come and the new life I've been living. It's bittersweet, yet incredible. It's amazing to see how God truly turned sorrow into joy."

As I sat thinking about that more and more throughout the day, I decided that maybe this year, being it's my third new birthday, it might be time to write myself a letter.

You see, I have come a long way.  Now, I won't lie and say it's been easy, or that any given day is easy and completely void of any drama, stress, frustration, or tears.  Most days are.  I mean, I do have three children who are still fairly young.

But, I'm no longer traumatized.  Yes, much of the year 2014 traumatized me, and while I would rarely admit until now, today, I see that, and I will state it.  I was traumatized.

Was.  Now, I'm not.  Now, I can sit and reflect with a clearer mind, more stable emotions, and see that not only was I not broken and my life wasn't over, but I was simply crushed and given a new chance.  It wasn't a chance I wanted and still sometimes wish was not my reality.  But, it lead me to such beauty and empowerment.  I've found strength. I've found peace. I've found joy. I've found determination. I've found patience. I've found love. I've found faith.

I've found many victories.

I've seen my children flourish. I've seen them survive trauma, more than once, and seen them grow into loving individuals with bright smiles, joy-filled laughter, and endless hugs.

I have been basically the sole provider for my family of four. I've had some help I will admit.  But, for the most part, I've done it.  And we've lived in the same home for over two years now, which is the longest any of my children ever had a home.

We've had heat.  We've had electricity.  We've had our own address and walls.  We have a church family.  We have a work family.  We have a friend family.  And we still have our blood family beside us.

I've been able to get past triggers, such as my birthday coming up, that would take my breath away and send my mind in a nosedive for darkness.

I'm not perfect.  I'm not even close.  But I'm better than I was before.  I am able to see my flaws and my weaknesses more easily, and embrace them and attempt to change them.  I'm always a work in progress.

I have learned new skills and developed my talents.  I've loved deeply, and lost greatly in the last three years.

I'm a better woman because of it all.

And I've a better life than I had before, even though it's changed drastically, left me longing from time to time for what I once had, and left me in tears of anguish and frustration some days still.  I refuse to lie to myself and say that these days are done. I'm human and I have weaknesses, and I know that I will face days in the future I miss having my husband by my side, and living the life I thought we lived, happily ever after.  But, I also know now, ending 33, that my life is beautiful, and I am beautiful.

So, while tomorrow, I turn 34, my new life turns 4.  It's nice to see my birthday with a renewed sense this year.  Tomorrow will be my first one where I will not allow the past to bring me down.  I'm claiming it.

I thought about sharing a picture that I took of myself to commemorate this evening.  You know, one that looks good because I know my angles or whatever.  Something I found to be "pretty" and wonderful.

Instead, I'm going to show myself a photo or two that are taken by my oldest son, who is almost seven.  Because, instead of seeing who I want to be or what I love about myself, I want to remember what he sees, what he loves, and what he is proud of and wants to share.  Because really, that's the woman I have most genuinely become, I think.

So, Me,

You're weary, you're exhausted, but you're strong and determined.  You're smart, not crazy.  You're a good mom, not a failure.  You're a good employee.  You're a good friend.  You're a good child of God.  You've done amazing things for yourself and your children.  

You've got this. 

Happy Birth and Re-Birth Day Tomorrow.

Love, Me