tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52323233926217434802024-03-13T13:05:30.960-05:00Living by Graceanchored by hopeNicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07377902459097589452noreply@blogger.comBlogger367125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5232323392621743480.post-88058552271446138102024-01-04T21:15:00.006-06:002024-01-22T11:29:05.205-06:00Randall Lawrence Flesner - Obituary <p> Randy Flesner - Obituary</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidkmFRjcbMd9kULgjlrdlcVFwWXx2ffFJ67XBzLUtcJZWoQ-RxX7R8LaEC3pWhbVRZyMD6Di8n-JFbI5FPYXtBGBLf3E0HIW5DF1DU7rr_GTc0ukocdZ8ZhMvMnciNjYt4Qff5Mo3weBpohyphenhyphennO2HLTN2P7aBQ5D5JOM0B7EnZ9wWfdVGK1RDYIORj29Do/s1466/FB_IMG_1704418494104.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1466" data-original-width="879" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidkmFRjcbMd9kULgjlrdlcVFwWXx2ffFJ67XBzLUtcJZWoQ-RxX7R8LaEC3pWhbVRZyMD6Di8n-JFbI5FPYXtBGBLf3E0HIW5DF1DU7rr_GTc0ukocdZ8ZhMvMnciNjYt4Qff5Mo3weBpohyphenhyphennO2HLTN2P7aBQ5D5JOM0B7EnZ9wWfdVGK1RDYIORj29Do/w384-h640/FB_IMG_1704418494104.jpg" width="384" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Randall “Randy” Lawrence Flesner, age 54, of Walnut Grove, MN, passed away on December 12, 2023, in Redwood County, Minnesota. </p><p><br /></p><p>Randy was born on February 8, 1969, in Tracy, Minnesota, to Lawrence and Leora (Foster) Flesner. He was welcomed home by four older sisters, and a year and a half later, welcomed one more sister into the family. He was confirmed at Our Savior’s Lutheran Church in Lamberton, MN, and attended Lamberton High School, where he graduated in 1987. He served his country in the National Guard and remained patriotic throughout his life.</p><p><br /></p><p>Randy met and fell in love with his soulmate, Amy, on April 3, 1991. They were married on April 3, 1993. Together, they raised beloved “fur babies,” beautiful Siberian Huskies and Malamutes, as well a blue and gold macaw “Joey Bird.” Although they did not remain married, they continued to be the best of friends throughout the remainder of Randy’s life.</p><p><br /></p><p>Randy’s family was of incredible importance to him and he made certain to let them know how much he valued them. He was a wonderful husband, son, brother, uncle, and friend. Randy loved to have fun with those in his life, from the youngest kiddos to those his senior. He had a fun, playful nature, quick wit, and a memorable, contagious laugh. He was quick to lend a helping hand, a listening ear, a huge hug, and so much more if someone he cared about had a need. He was an absolute treasure to many.</p><p><br /></p><p>A traveler by nature, Randy spent years as an industrial painter and a union member, where he worked all over the country painting things like bridges and water towers. He loved his job, and often spoke of his coworkers and adventures. His colleagues became a chosen family, and he cherished them dearly. Randy also loved riding motorcycle and exploring the great outdoors.</p><p><br /></p><p>Randall is survived by his best friend and soulmate, Amy (Christensen) Undine of Lincoln, NE, sisters Debra (Daniel) Turbes of Revere, Anita (Joel Byers) Weber of Milroy, Linda (Guy Vanderwerf) DeSmith of Walnut Grove, Sara (Randy) Panitzke of Mesa, AZ, Susan (Mark) Daniels of Morriston, FL, brothers-in-law Brian Vanderlinden of Sioux City, IA, and Richard Weber of Lamberton, as well as many nieces, nephews, great nieces and nephews, and countless other dear family and friends. He was preceded in death by his parents, Leora and Lawrence Flesner, sister in infancy, Helen Flesner, sister Katherine Vanderlinden, brother-in-law Gregg DeSmith, niece Carissa DeSmith, grandparents, and numerous aunts, uncles, and friends.</p><p><br /></p><p>————-</p><p><br /></p><p>A Celebration of Life honoring Randy Flesner will be held at 2pm on Saturday, January 20, 2024, at Our Savior’s Lutheran Church, in Lamberton, MN.</p><p><br /></p><p>In lieu of flowers, the family requests that you make a donation in Randy’s honor to your local organizations, such as the VFW, American Legion, pet shelters and rescues, and churches. Randy held these close to his heart.</p>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07377902459097589452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5232323392621743480.post-18858801350813173302023-10-31T20:26:00.006-05:002023-10-31T21:27:10.318-05:00First-teen<p> Dearest Spencer,</p><p><br /></p><p>Here we are again, at the end of another era, the beginning of another milestone, an old familiar, but oh so different place than we were 365 days ago.</p><p>Tonight, you close off your first dozen years and you will wake up as an official teenager.</p><p>Not kid, not pre-teen, but a teenager.</p><p>Wow.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikewAJFRTntFIVzahDAb-BJjpNtSi9ihLWs2q1bP-GvYEWt5O0YTY1QH5uo-IWmcWIf3NZf5UXId1WkMdlyYVUjQkmNMt5_8zFQC7K8lgBZl5fzBdx97xflst5oXIZ5Vzg68dY0osSnKKX7OfwSoz1ADpEjDsi4-H3xdlMOs-MiolL7W3PhdKCZUkjFVQ/s2464/IMG_4603.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1632" data-original-width="2464" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikewAJFRTntFIVzahDAb-BJjpNtSi9ihLWs2q1bP-GvYEWt5O0YTY1QH5uo-IWmcWIf3NZf5UXId1WkMdlyYVUjQkmNMt5_8zFQC7K8lgBZl5fzBdx97xflst5oXIZ5Vzg68dY0osSnKKX7OfwSoz1ADpEjDsi4-H3xdlMOs-MiolL7W3PhdKCZUkjFVQ/w640-h424/IMG_4603.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>I know I’ve been calling you a “teen” for a few months now and joking about rounding up, but it hits so much harder tonight. </p><p>We have talked many times about how we are both learning as we go, growing as we go, and figuring this journey out together, and it still rings true. I finally feel like I have a decent grasp on having big kids instead of little kids, instead of toddlers, instead of babies, and here we are, a new juncture, and it’s off to the races as we veer into the years of having teenagers. You’re the forerunner, obviously. I hope that the years are good to us, the disagreements and stresses are few and are between, and the laughter and hugs are countless.</p><p>Realistically, I know it won’t likely be all wildflowers, sunshine and rainbows, but I pray that it’s more wildflowers, sunshine and rainbows that torrents, deluges, and gale forces. I pray that it’s more dancing than falling, that’s for sure.</p><p>It has been such a joy watching you grow and transform before my eyes. I have been reliving old photos and videos at night lately, thinking about how you were the answer to my biggest prayer- that I could be a momma. I think about how your blue eyes have sparkled looking back at mine for the past dozen years, and how familiar that is to me, and how it ignites sparks inside my heart. </p><p>Watching your personality blossom has been another treasure to me. I remember when you were so much younger, and it was harder to tap into “your brave” and there were many things you just wouldn’t do. There were many things you wouldn’t do alone, but you were braver with me by your side. I was your steady and your charge when you were hesitant or leery of whatever was going on around you or what was being asked of you. Your meek, little voice still echoes in my head.</p><p>But now… I’ve recently come to the realization that you may be braver without me. I think about the fact that you were ready and willing to attend three different camps or retreats this past summer, with three different groups of people, in three different states, all without me, all with very little contact to me, and how you flourished and thrived and each one chiseled you into the young man you are turning into, a little bit at a time. I loved seeing you again for the first time, each time, and how you would come to me, arms wide open, with a huge grin, and tell me you missed me. It was unexpected each time, but they were threes heaven-sent moments. </p><p>Another thing that has been a delight in regard to those excursions, is hearing other people tell me how wonderful they think you are. You were reported to be very kind, thoughtful, hilarious, and fun. Many of us have enjoyed watching you come out of your shell more and more. (As a side note, have I told you that I am so proud of you for starting to let more people “in” on all areas of your life including your thoughts, emotions, fears, joys, and triumphs? I am. You have spent many years guarding these parts of yourself, for reasons I do understand, but you’ve been slowly breaking down your walls, and it’s a magnificent thing to experience.)</p><p>As I realized these things recently, you and I had a discussion about how you feel more relaxed and open going to youth group nights by yourself, instead of with me there. Surprisingly enough, it didn’t hurt my feelings at all, but made me so proud of you for your honesty and bravery. You’ve climbed quite the hill in your years, and it’s amazing to see you reaching the pinnacle and I cannot wait to see where you go when you get closer. I don’t know if one every really reaches the hypothetical summit, but if you do, I’ll be here cheering you on for that as well.</p><p>In another side of your personality, I love listening to you experiment with your instruments. I cannot tell you how big I grinned when I heard you play a little diddy on guitar that sounded like the solo to my favorite song. Your teachers at school all tell me how great you are as well, and that they are proud of you. I know, personally, music is one of my best friends, like a cozy blanket that understands me no matter what my mood or life circumstance is. I feel that it may be similar for you as well. One thing that you possess that I don’t though, is the ability to pull music out of thin air, play by ear, or goof around and have it still sound good. I might be a tiny bit jealous in that aspect. </p><p>Lately, I’ve been trying to give you more independence and trust, inch by inch, because you are older and should be gaining more responsibility and independence as we go along, but sometimes, that’s hard for me, and I apologize if I come off as overprotective or untrusting. The world we live in continues to change into one that seems crazier and more uncertain than the one I grew up in, and I’m always trying to navigate how that should look so far as parenting goes. As you know, and have said in the past, I’m pretty much doing it myself, and often I second guess or doubt myself and whether I am doing it right, or good enough, and so forth. Thank you for being patient with me. (I will admit, however, that I love the moments where you’re not “too cool” or “too old” to do things that are still whimsical and fun. Tonight, for example, we had the perfect balance of going trick-or-treating with family, but then the independence to go again on your own for a while.)</p><p>With that said, I promise to continue to try to extend my own patience with you. I know there are times when I am less than patient and certainly not perfect in how I approach things. I joke occasionally about how I was once a middle school or teenage girl, but I was never a middle school or teenage boy, so I don’t always know how to decode what you’re hinting at and I don’t often quite understand what you’re feeling. I will continue to try to learn the balance between giving you privacy, but also holding you accountable. Clearly, this stage of our lives is going to be a work in progress, possibly the entire time.</p><p>Spencer, I think you’re truly amazing, and the world is so blessed to have you in it. I have loved watching your faith start growing in different ways, trying new things, and enjoying new experiences. I loved getting you a Bible this summer, and each time you tell me about a verse or story you’ve found interesting brings me even more joy. Thank you for what you’re willing to share, and know I understand that a faith life is personal too, and I respect that I cannot and will not always get to know everything. That’s new to me too. I’m so used to the little kid information overload that the preteen and teenage withholding feels a bit foreign still.</p><p>Thank you for loving like you do. Thank you for giving me hugs for no reason, out of nowhere, and when I’m sad. Thank you for all the fun we have in the car going to or from school, and for obliging when I ask too many questions about your day. Thank you for your wonderful sense of humor that feels so much like my own, and for the respect you show asking if you can tell jokes before just blurting them out. That probably seems or sounds silly, but it just shows me that you respect boundaries of others.</p><p>Thank you for going out of your way to help others, whether it is you giving a little of your spending cash to another student on a trip, or respectfully assisting someone who may be less physically agile due to injury, age, illness, or other reasons. I have heard accounts of both of these things, and many others, when they’ve happened and I’m not around. There’s nothing quite like hearing something wonderful your child did when they didn’t need to impress or prove anything to others. Thank you for holding doors and carrying in one more grocery bag yourself so I don’t have to- without being asked. </p><p>As bittersweet as it is to see you continue to grow up, I am truly excited to see what the future holds. I don’t want to say goodbye to the childhood years where you need more care than independence, more cuddles than thumbs up, but I know it’s going to be a beautiful thing as you continue to grow older and our relationship starts to take on more friendship qualities as well. </p><p>Thanks for the abundance of random information that you spout out with no rhyme or reason. Believe it or not, I do the same thing to others. </p><p>I pray this year brings you boundless laughter, new favorite songs, interesting additional friends, and a real sense of who you are, as a child of God, a son of mine, a brother, a grandson, a nephew, and a friend. You are a delight to me, even on our harder days. </p><p>Love you more,</p><p>Mom (not Bruh)</p>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07377902459097589452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5232323392621743480.post-85075109483438970632023-10-11T11:38:00.007-05:002023-10-11T14:38:29.380-05:00A Familiar Loss of a Different Kind<p><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;">On Monday, morning, October 9, 2023, my dear friend, Buffy Sue, passed away unexpectedly in her home.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I have lost friends and family before, numerous times. This loss, however familiar in some ways, is unique and different compared to those in the past. This feels like new territory in some respects.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">During my adolescent years, the internet was just starting to really become common and accessible. In my tenth grade year, I joined a website for teens with journals, games, polls, messaging, and so forth. It started out as somewhat of a social experiment in my mind, as well as an exciting way to explore new territory with people my age, all over the globe. I had a MySpace page, where I found friends and new music, taught myself some basic HTML and photo editing skills, downloaded ICQ and AIM messengers, and continued to make connections. It didn’t take long before I was fully immersed in the website I first mentioned, making friendships and relationships that many adults at the time would tell you were not and could not ever be real, true, lasting friendships. It seemed absurd that you could have a relationship with someone you had never met. I grew up in a tiny town with amazing “real-life” friendships, as I would have referred to them at the time. These online friends were no substitute, they were an addition to my tribe.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">That website was the beginning of my online journaling (now called blogging) endeavor, and I wrote almost every day. At one point, I had journaled every day for one or two years. I honestly cannot even recall. I had friends that read daily, commented daily, and I reciprocated in their journals. As we got older, we started chatting, emailing, writing letters, sending text messages, and sometimes even meeting in person. While it may seem shocking to believe, I have made some of my most trusted friends on that website, and they know me, the real me, and love me in return, and we have had these relationships for twenty-some years. They’ve been by my side, figuratively speaking, through high school, high school graduation, boyfriend breakups, college, college graduation, engagement, wedding, marriage, infertility, deaths in my family, births of children, betrayal from my husband, divorce, single-parenting, covid, overcoming, and so many more events in my last twenty years.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">In 2012, after giving birth to one son in 2010, then losing a pregnancy in 2011, I became pregnant again and was due with our next child in August. At the time, I was working an in-home daycare with one of my best friends, with a husband who worked long hours out of town and was away a lot. I joined a pregnancy app on my phone, which came with message boards. Those message boards were a bit rudimentary, and it wasn’t long after that an August 2012 Momma Facebook group was formed. So many women around the globe joined that group, and we shared so much of our lives together. That group still exists, and while it’s not as frequently utilized, we mommas are there and we still love each other. Some have been fortunate enough to meet in person, and many of us developed deeper side friendships with mommas we really connected with, and have kept in touch in multiple other ways. When we had our babies, we were there. When they turned one, we were there. When we have had triumphs and joys, we were there. When lives turned unexpectedly upside down, we were there. It is a core group that you know is going to be there even if it’s been a year and you need to rant about something related to motherhood, you need prayers or advice for any other topic, or you’re in a crisis and you don’t know what to do. It’s been such a joy watching our children grow up together, even if we are not physically together.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">This momma group is where I met Buffy Sue. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh004adS3wJPG3AoVMmnxdYSHUEx4gQplOAQ4BojohhgzLrkEHoIlHIH7x9AAnqITrkvAu2TrX4JMns-LALAnh5T6PbN9SYVDhRDGlb7l_gup_0lw4iXcX623O5tLqXnsniblnN3QGwPDBrDGHLu2sdg6U8zYBUfJKgFo5y62JNEMkLruZgcWQKT01s3bs/s960/FB_IMG_1696991097322.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh004adS3wJPG3AoVMmnxdYSHUEx4gQplOAQ4BojohhgzLrkEHoIlHIH7x9AAnqITrkvAu2TrX4JMns-LALAnh5T6PbN9SYVDhRDGlb7l_gup_0lw4iXcX623O5tLqXnsniblnN3QGwPDBrDGHLu2sdg6U8zYBUfJKgFo5y62JNEMkLruZgcWQKT01s3bs/s16000/FB_IMG_1696991097322.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Buffy Sue was absolutely my closest friend in that group. She brought me such joy. Her laughter was contagious and when she would get laughing, I may not even understand really what she was laughing about (because sometimes she would be laughing so hard her words didn’t sound comprehensible) but it would get me laughing, too. She gave great advice when I needed it. She said stupid funny things when I needed comic relief. She sent me pictures and videos of herself and her daughters frequently. She told me all about her coffee shop, when things were going well, when things would unexpectedly break down and cause messes, when things were going splendidly, all of it. I always told her I wished she could deliver MY coffee, but joked that it would probably taste a little funky by the time it arrived, so she would just have to drink what I would order in my honor. She blessed my children and I in big and little ways, from surprises in the mail, to silly letters, and much, much more. She helped me see straight through tears of confusion and anger when my marriage was falling apart. She reminded me how strong I was, and how I was never really going crazy even if I thought it might be the case. She encouraged and supported all my creative endeavors. She was a champion for everyone she loved and so many other she barely even knew. She would do anything she could to better someone’s life- not just mine. I tried my very best to do the same for her in her life, and I can only pray that I made an as much an impact on her as she did on me. As I’ve been reading tributes to her online, I am blown away, but also not really surprised, by the impact she made on her community, but even further, around the world.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">When I read last night that she was gone, it felt like I was being punched in the chest. I turned off my phone screen multiple times, feeling like I was just imagining what the screen said. When I realized it was true, I wept quietly in my room, away from my sons.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">You see, they didn’t really know Buffy. They knew of her, because I would show them videos or photos sometimes when they’d ask what was so funny, but they never really met her.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">That’s when I realized, in a way, I had never really met her, either. Well, not in person, anyway.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">That thought struck me in the strangest way, as I then wrestled with my own thoughts. That lasted much of the night, and I cried myself to sleep, still feeling sort of strange to be feeling as sad as I was.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Today is my day off from work, so after I took my two littles to elementary school, my oldest and I carried out our day-off tradition. I drive him across town to middle school, but on our way, we stop at a coffee shop of his choosing, and we play “coffee roulette” where I let him order a drink for me (so long as it is not straight up black coffee or espresso) and he chooses a bakery item for himself. When we were picking up our items from the drive through window, I started to feel tears welling up in my eyes. As we pulled away, I blurted out to him, “one of my online momma friends died this week.”</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">He was stunned. He stared at me for a moment before he said “that is so tragic and I am really sorry, mom.”</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I told him how I didn't want to burden them with my loss, and how I nearly broke down this morning when I realized if I sent her the goofy Snapchat photo I was sending some friends of our cat trying to get involved in non-cat-related activities she wouldn't ever open it anyway.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I began to tell him about Buffy and all of her great qualities. I told him how she was really “Steve the Elf” a couple years ago who sent us tickets to For King and Country’s Christmas concert locally. He laughed about it a while and then told me how she sounded so cool and it made all the sense in the world that we were friends.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">“We really were friends,” I said, trailing off a little. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I finally began talking aloud about all the conflicting thoughts I had been feeling the night prior- how could I possibly be so sad when I had never even been in the same room as her? How could I be devastated knowing I wouldn’t get to hug her in person when we still hadn’t had that chance? How could she possibly have left such a lasting impression on me when she was so far away? </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">He and I then talked about how it absolutely makes sense that I was so sad. She was real. She was a real friend. She knew me better than many people. Just because we had never been in the same place geographically, she was with me so often, in a few second spurts, day in and day out. We shared each other’s triumphs. We shared sorrow when her dad died. We laughed when we would say or do stupid things. We shared music. We shared a friendship.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">He and I then had a great talk about how you really can create life-long, true, deep relationships with people you have never met, but how you also have to be careful in letting people online into your life sometimes, especially with sensitive information.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I explained how I have two groups of real-life-online-friends, those who are still in my life from high school, and those who came into my life as a momma, and are still in my life today. He knows I have amazing friendships with some of these. He began asking me questions about many of them, and I got to tell him stories about how one friend and I would write a fiction blog about a world where we were actually together, and another friend and I would fill up a notebook with multiple letters before sending it off, and how I met one in Nashville, and stayed with one in Brooklyn, and met up with two in Omaha, and one came to Sioux Falls.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">He told me I was a really great friend. He wiped away my tears and reminded me he loved me.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">As he got out of the car and I drove away, the song “Banks” by Needtobreathe came on the car stereo, and it brought me right back to Buffy, and the type of life she lived and the way she loved fiercely.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I was watching the sun rise above the trees, alone again with my thoughts and my sorrow. I had finished my coffee, and remembered that my favorite local coffee drink, the Honey Bee Latte, was half price at that time in the morning, and I had enough pocket change in my cup holder to stop and grab one. I wasn’t quite ready to go home and sit with my thoughts yet, because my emotions were still swirling. So, I stopped and ordered my favorite, one I had told Buffy about long ago, and decided to go to the outdoor campus here in town and go for a walk. I dove deeper into my thoughts and emotion and decided that I needed to write.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi48WtBdEWuE9YUKk-Ba2bcB7j3m08WtnDehiQYr2tN7vR-wezj1Q7SdD_2keVhqqXrq1NjdOosMw__fy7Z0gWxrR5HMc6rJMJB9bgxZswv-pCf2Sht_4JmFdfs-Qdn_mSlraQWZwh7iNlwfWCYbjI5o7Y19vXlLwuGs2gzHs6Cc8ILlXPj8lJaGYfISIE/s4000/IMG_20231011_095606183_HDR~3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi48WtBdEWuE9YUKk-Ba2bcB7j3m08WtnDehiQYr2tN7vR-wezj1Q7SdD_2keVhqqXrq1NjdOosMw__fy7Z0gWxrR5HMc6rJMJB9bgxZswv-pCf2Sht_4JmFdfs-Qdn_mSlraQWZwh7iNlwfWCYbjI5o7Y19vXlLwuGs2gzHs6Cc8ILlXPj8lJaGYfISIE/w480-h640/IMG_20231011_095606183_HDR~3.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I always find that I need to write.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">This time, it was a little different.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I realized that I could search all over for a physical place where I felt my friend and I were together, but when it came down to it, the living room of our friendship was really the internet. It was in writing, mostly. I knew I needed to come sit on the virtual couch of our friendship and feel the emptiness in that room, and embrace the love I had for her in this life, through the screen in front of me. I walked a couple of miles until my coffee was gone, with the gentle wind blowing through the trees, thinking about the songs she might send my way on a day like this, what joke she would make, and if her Honey Bee Latte would be even tastier. I believe it would have been, no contest. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">So here I am, writing my heart out, wondering what she would say if she saw all of these words before us. She would downplay her own significance for a while, but tell me how much she loved me, and turn it right around and build me up, because that’s what kind of champion she was.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">This sorrow I feel is like that of any other friend or family I’ve lost, but different in that unfamiliar ache of the in-person hug I won’t get on this side of heaven. As I sit through the grief, I realize this won’t be the first time on this path, because I am so blessed someday, potentially (unless I go, first) lose many more I love so deeply in this way.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">My sorrow must only be a fraction of the sorrow felt by her mother, her siblings, her husband, her beautiful daughters, and her countless friends. I’ll be thinking of them often and praying for their piece as they live out the immeasurable grief I’m sure they must be feeling. I’ll continue to read the tributes to her online, and count myself so fortunate to have a treasure like her in my lifetime. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I know you’re singing with the angels, Buffy, love.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Until someday,</div><div style="text-align: left;">-Me</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><p></p>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07377902459097589452noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5232323392621743480.post-31526350380480366042023-08-31T21:14:00.004-05:002023-08-31T21:45:02.885-05:00The Middle Eleven<p> My dearest Collin,</p><p><br /></p><p>You are ten tonight. Tomorrow, you will be eleven. You’re entering the preteen years, and I sit here, watching you play with the cats, in utter disbelief. How did we reach this milestone? </p><p>This past year, you have grown so much. You’ve gotten taller, wiser, funnier, smarter, braver, and even a little bit calmer. In the last year, you’ve learned much about the way your mind works, which has allowed you to understand the world a little bit better, I think. It’s helped you understand yourself in a deeper level, which has helped your relationships grow. It’s been such a revelatory year. </p><p>Just a few months ago, for example, we had a moment where you finally were able to articulate why you refuse to eat cereal out of bowls like the rest of us. You told me, frankly, that you cannot stand the sound of our metal spoons scraping against the plastic bowls. It was such an easy fix, and our relationship grew because of it.</p><p>For almost the entirety of your eleven years, you’ve loved trains, dinosaurs, building, and books. Recently, you’ve been surprising me with new interests and it has been so much fun seeing those develop. You told me the other day that you want to try band and play the trombone. I honestly was shocked, because you’ve never really shown a deep interest in music. Now, you do love some songs or melodies, and you latch onto those and could listen to them for days on end, but in general, you don’t engage in music very often. The other day, you were even singing! You made me promise not to tell people that, sorry, I just let it slip. I’ve enjoyed seeing you bring home drawings from school this year, as well. I think you maybe got some of your momma’s creative abilities in there.</p><p>Collin, you have such a brilliant mind. You are one of the smartest fifth graders I know. When you say things like you aren’t good at math, it boggles me, because you are actually quite good at it even if it doesn’t come as easy to you as some other subjects. I know fourth grade was super rough, relationship wise especially, but I have such high hopes and can see such great things coming for you in this year ahead. I am so excited to see where this year leads you!</p><p>I have loved watching you continue to love on littles around you, at daycare, at church, and in our family. You have such a heart for younger children, and babies seem to be your calm place (until they’re crying). My heart melts when you sit and relax with a baby on your lap.</p><p>You're a fierce defender of all people and things that are important to you. You stand up for people when they are wronged, even if it gets you into a little trouble. Watching you guard the wedding rings at your aunt and new uncle's wedding a few weeks ago showed that protective side, too, as you told people you would guard them with your life. I loved you even more that day, too. </p><p>As I said, we have had some trials over the last year, as always, but I refuse to sit and dwell on those. I know that you replay things over and over in your mind, failures especially, but I want you to know that I see you beyond the missteps, poor choices, struggles, and hard times. I see the real you. I see your kind, loving, wonderful heart.</p><p>Perhaps one of my favorite moments of this last year was on baptism Sunday, when you went from hesitant to exceptionally excited in the blink of an eye. We had talked off and on over the course of the week before about why you wanted to be baptized, and you didn’t really know what you wanted to say. When you were asked, there in the water, you had the most profound, well spoken answer- you know you are under God’s wing. You elaborated more than that, and it was poetic. My heart could have exploded in that moment, and when I baptized you in the water and you sprung back up to life and hugged me, there was no greater moment.</p><p>Mister man, I want you to know that I will always continue to pray over you and for you. In the coming year, I pray that you know that you are good, inside and out, and you always feel that you belong in this world. I know that the world can be a hard place and people can try to break you down, but I pray that you have been built up by those who love you most, God included, that you know you will not be broken. You always have a safe place in my arms, and I will always be here to listen to your tears. I might not always have the perfect words to say, but I pray when I do not, you can hear God’s voice. </p><p>I pray that you laugh so much this year that your sides hurt and your eyes water, you slap your knees, and you have to catch your breath. Laughter is one of my favorite sounds and I think you have such a great sense of humor. I pray that you are filled daily with hugs and kind smiles from those around you. I pray you never feel lost in this world and always know who will guide you, especially if you feel alone. I pray that you can see the great things you have already accomplished and take excited comfort in knowing there’s so much more in store for you.</p><p>I pray this a year unlike any other, and you really, truly, get to know how wonderful you are.</p><p>It has been a long eleven years. It has been a quick eleven years. It’s been such a blessing. I am so grateful that God gave me you, all those years ago.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhseddGXQ7WUnQOExAHkaoUnt3ioXG71_gRN9QyQWIfVzE-E8pXRNSI_hkVQxNE12ATrBxOGqeaeFdY_LoQiDK8J_2b75vEN01UQwjVsUFYTA9Wuhib26NNgzz0SCPiciLz0zhS3P9lkAeRPUKJfheWlF6R6fNrJOzHXFdln6T39H95qHg3MuwSm09NBBc/s2464/IMG_4853.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1632" data-original-width="2464" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhseddGXQ7WUnQOExAHkaoUnt3ioXG71_gRN9QyQWIfVzE-E8pXRNSI_hkVQxNE12ATrBxOGqeaeFdY_LoQiDK8J_2b75vEN01UQwjVsUFYTA9Wuhib26NNgzz0SCPiciLz0zhS3P9lkAeRPUKJfheWlF6R6fNrJOzHXFdln6T39H95qHg3MuwSm09NBBc/w640-h424/IMG_4853.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and I’m so glad you’re mine.</p><p>Love you more,</p><p>Mom</p>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07377902459097589452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5232323392621743480.post-40913905623486378942023-08-07T20:11:00.004-05:002023-08-07T20:45:47.436-05:00Washed by the WaterGrowing up, I was raised believing in God, and attended Lutheran churches for my entire childhood, as well as my first couple of years in college. I was baptized in the Lutheran church shortly after I was one year old. I went to a Lutheran elementary school for my first two years of education, and sometime after my family and I moved into town in the spring of 1991, I began going to a Lutheran church just down the block from my house. <div><br /></div><div>I loved going to church, largely because I was going with my grandma, who loved going to church. The services were very traditional, and I learned them quickly, able to recite the various parts alongside the congregation before too long, without needing to use the hymnal for reference much of the time. I attended confirmation classes in that same church, was confirmed, choosing Proverbs 3:5 as my life verse, and took communion for the first time in that church. I can still picture the red carpet, warm wooden pews, and countless stained glass windows that surrounded us. My senior year of high school, we had our baccalaureate service in my church. I helped teach Sunday school and vacation Bible school there. I felt so at home. </div><div><br /></div><div>Even now, as an adult, when I attend a Lutheran church, I can pull the traditions out from my memory and integrate myself seamlessly amongst those who regularly attend.</div><div><br /></div><div>Halfway through college, I discovered new churches, and began to attend them. At first, they seemed a little “out there,” with contemporary worship songs instead of traditional hymns, following different layouts for the service. Communion was more open to everyone, and often less traditional in how it was taken. There was much less repeating creeds, call and responses, and the sermons were more vivid to me. I stopped taking sermon notes, as I had learned growing up, and started to really just listen and remember the messages. I started laughing in church. I started to love the music, raise my hands, and sway along with the beat. </div><div><br /></div><div>I found myself focused much less on what was coming next and much more on the experience as a whole. I grew up knowing God loved me, Jesus loved me, and Holy Spirit loved me. I grew up afraid of messing up and going to hell. I grew up reciting memorized prayers.</div><div><br /></div><div>My former husband and I were married in a contemporary church, with contemporary services, although our wedding ceremony was still traditional in most ways. After a few years, we moved to South Dakota, and started attending new churches all over again. We found one we fell in love with, the pastor, the programming, the children’s ministry, the worship, the Bible studies, the community. For the first time since my childhood in my hometown ELCA church, I felt this church was home. </div><div><br /></div><div>By this time, I began feeling differently about tradition and was working on letting go of the “rules” I felt religion called to me, and more on trying to just feel, hear, or sense what God was calling. At first, when our oldest son was born, I was unsure of dedicating him instead of baptizing him in infancy like I grew up knowing we were supposed to do, but after prayerful consideration, I really believed that’s what was right for our family. Along with our dearest married friends who had also recently had a baby boy, we dedicated our sons in that new home church. </div><div><br /></div><div>After a couple of years, my marriage started on it’s beginning toward the end, and we sadly went to church less and less. Our second two children never were dedicated, and for years after my former husband was gone, I felt such guilt about this. I knew in my heart it wasn’t a “necessity” and if they grew up believing and trying to know God, whether or not they were dedicated as babies was not going to keep them from a life of salvation. The enemy tried hard to dissuade me of that for many, many months.</div><div><br /></div><div>By June of 2015, my marriage was basically over and my children and my world was crashing down around us. We no longer attended that church, were living in transitional housing as I worked a new job after being a stay-at-home-mom, with my former husband more a figment of our imagination than a person that was actually around. I began attending a Lutheran church that was close to where we were living at the time, because I could walk there. I attended only a few times, and felt so out of place. </div><div><br /></div><div>At my new job, however, I was placed in a room at a church daycare, with mobile infants and a couple other staff, one of which became my confidante, one of my best friends, and a beacon of hope and shining light of Jesus love. Eventually, she convinced me to come to a Sunday service at the church where our daycare located. I confided in her that I was anxious about it, not sure I would fit in, worried what it would look like to be a single mom with three little children, and hated the idea of sitting alone. She invited me to sit beside her and her family, right there in the second row. I put on my brave, and I attended the church.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was completely surprised by how welcome I felt. The children’s pastor welcomed me and my children with open arms and a heart full of joy. Over the years, she has become another one of my closest friends, even though she has moved on from that pastoral role. The congregation welcomed us as well. There were so many kind, caring people who began to love on me and my littles, and we never stopped going. That church is still our home.</div><div><br /></div><div>Soon after we attended, there was a baptism service. At this church, as well as the one before, children could be dedicated, but you choose when and if you want to be baptized. I recall, so clearly, watching, cheering, and worshipping as baptisms happened up in front, and in an instant, I had this thought.. “What if some day all three of my children were baptized, and I was re-baptized, and we did it together?”</div><div><br /></div><div>I could almost envision it in my mind.</div><div><br /></div><div>That thought never left. Over the years, we witnessed many baptisms. The children would often watch, and they would cheer alongside us all as people re-surrendered, re-professed, and publicly invited us all to be a part of the joy as they celebrated their re-birth by water baptism. Each time, I would think, “what if…”</div><div><br /></div><div>Occasionally, throughout the years, I would ask my children if they were interested in or ready to be baptized. Each time, they would say no, for various reasons. I would not push it, because I knew in my heart it would happen when they were ready for it to happen.</div><div><br /></div><div>Fast forward to a couple of months ago this year, 2023. My daughter, the youngest child, watched baptisms happening at church and told me she might be ready next time it happened, but she wasn’t sure she was brave enough to do it on her own. Immediately, I went back to my vision, though I did not tell her that. I simply said that perhaps, by the time they happened next, someone else in our family would want to be baptized too. I prayed it would happen, and we let the idea rest quietly.</div><div><br /></div><div>My oldest son woke up one morning, a month or two later, and after I sang the “good morning, I love you” little song I sing each day, he asked me, before any other words came out of his mouth, “Mom, when is baptism happening again?” I was so shocked that I was not sure I heard him correctly, and asked him o repeat the question. It was the same thing. I asked why, and he said, “I think Jesus wants me to be baptized.” I found out later that it was because he had a dream he was with Jesus, and Jesus lead him to be baptized in it. </div><div><br /></div><div>That same day I went and found the children’s pastor and we figured out when the next baptism Sunday would be. I shared the news with my son, and he did not say much more about it. During the end of the school year, he began attending a youth group at my friends’ church instead of our own, and started becoming more invested and open in his faith. One day, the second week, he asked me for his own adult Bible. He attended a youth-group summer camp with that youth group, and about a month later, a youth-group retreat with our own. The retreat was the week before baptisms were to be happening at our church, and I had not heard much about it again, and was hesitant to ask and make him feel coerced, but I found out he told the children’s pastor at our home church that he was still going to be baptized. I was elated for him.</div><div><br /></div><div>The week prior to the youth-retreat that lead into baptism Sunday, I began asking my second son, the middle child, about the possibility that he might want to be baptized, too. He was largely not committed to an answer, and would sway back and forth between a yes and a no depending on the breeze or his mood. He told me he would think about it, seriously, and asked multiple times about the temperature of the water. Once he heard from the children’s pastor that the water was warm, he told me he was ready to be baptized.</div><div><br /></div><div>Just like that, it seemed, after 8 years of holding onto this vision, all three of my children were planning to be baptized on the same Sunday.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was ready, too.</div><div><br /></div><div>I know that to many, it may seem strange that I would choose to be baptized again as an adult, considering the fact that I was baptized as a young toddler back in my first home church. Even I was battling that thought for a moment or two. </div><div><br /></div><div>I wanted to lead by example, on one hand, and on another, I wanted to stand alongside my children and proclaim to everyone that Jesus is MY Lord, Savior, Father, Friend, and Brother. I wanted to make a public declaration that I believe in His life, and how he gave His for my own, so that I would not go to Hell because of my birth into a fallen world, like I was afraid of growing up. He makes us new and washes away our sins, and it was time to declare all of those things for myself, of my own choosing.</div><div><br /></div><div>On Sunday, July 30, 2023, in the middle of worship, all dressed in t-shirts that read “You are a treasure,” my children and I were water baptized in our home church, surrounded by our church family that has prayed for, over, and with us, for most of my children’s lives. They have supported us in so many known and unknown ways, and loved us during our worst times. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was a perfect morning.</div><div><br /></div><div>I entered the water first, guiding my daughter to join me. She declared that she loved Jesus, and because of her faith, I was able to baptize her in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The joy in her face as she rose out of the water was indescribable and she giggled quietly as I hugged her so tight.</div><div><br /></div><div>My middle son was next, as he had asked me to baptize him too. I was unsure what reason he would give for deciding to be baptized, because the entire week leading up to it, he was not really able to form an answer if I asked. When given the opportunity to speak, however, he told, with beautiful language, how he knows Jesus loves him for who he is and he is under God’s wing (in his own words, which are recorded on the church Livestream for revisiting). I baptized him the same, and he rose with one of the largest, most genuine grins I had seen on his face in years, and we embraced before he left the water.</div><div><br /></div><div>Next, our Lead Pastor joined me, and after we joked about me baptizing him, he asked me why I was choosing baptism that day. I told a brief account of my vision 8 years ago and how every one of my children had decided, individually, to be baptized, just like the idea I had, and this was fulfilling that vision. Pastor Brent, the first lead pastor I have met who really sees me for me, loves me for who I am, me, Nicole, as a person, was who I knew I wanted to take this step with me. Our pastor, who is a brother to us as well, is legally blind, but really, truly, has been the first lead pastor to see me as a sister in Christ. </div><div><br /></div><div> The actual submersion of the baptism felt like it was happening in slow motion. I felt the water as it rushed from my torso up over my head, warm, light, comforting, and freeing, and as I rose, it all fell away with utter weightlessness and I was immediately filled with joy. I immediately knew that this was a prophecy that he had spoken to me, over the life of my family, being fulfilled, and I had not thought of it that way prior to that moment. I felt strong, confident, and peaceful, all at the same time. And as I peered out into the congregation, I saw, even without my glasses, the smiling, cheering faces, of so many who had been there while awaiting the prophecy to be fulfilled. I turned to Brent and hugged him so tight, and then made a way for my oldest son.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXElYNMs1iq9OzND1PlFqzIRd5G3lbfz-A0noV4jz0KZ8f3aTSsue2NmS1dqXgbSzLMNsmFCkRYux_WPXAl0JZi7JKeJZ0E1GLuyd5k8oxwNa9ZUvlf513ZRTZnTiCg08Fj-y57hmBGRx-VHX4zH4K1shdRa_772rXwppWfXYzAjzVKkSzWtzXRCtVgVk/s5472/474A8167.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXElYNMs1iq9OzND1PlFqzIRd5G3lbfz-A0noV4jz0KZ8f3aTSsue2NmS1dqXgbSzLMNsmFCkRYux_WPXAl0JZi7JKeJZ0E1GLuyd5k8oxwNa9ZUvlf513ZRTZnTiCg08Fj-y57hmBGRx-VHX4zH4K1shdRa_772rXwppWfXYzAjzVKkSzWtzXRCtVgVk/w640-h426/474A8167.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>My son has become such a brave young man over the years. Once, he was so anxious about things that he would hide in the back and sometimes cry. He did not want people watching him. But this day, he walked with pure confidence and determination, and entered the water ready. I could sense it. He spoke of how God came to him in a dream, calling him to be baptized. He too had Pastor Brent baptize him. He is blessed to have an amazing, honest connection with our children’s pastor too, who has watched him grow up for many years now, and had deliberated between both of those amazing male role models to baptize him. When he rose from the water, I saw the most brilliant grin on his face, and he came, arms wide open, to embrace me. As we did, Brent cheered him on from behind, with the church family joining in their seats. The hug was electric. It was a perfect moment.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was a perfect family baptism. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have watched and re-watched the baptism and looked at the photos I have multiple times over the last week. I can play the experience back in my mind so effortlessly. I pray I never lose that ability. I have cried beautiful tears over it all, and been amazed by how steady God has been through our lives as we all aligned to that day. He is so, so good.</div><div><br /></div><div>(Thank you to my friend Jolynn of Beloveds Design Photography for capturing baptism photos, including the one I share publicly here.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Disclaimer: Nothing I have expressed here is meant to condemn or ridicule the Lutheran Church (or any other traditional ones). For me, personally, the church I was raised in was becoming more tradition and repetition and feeding my soul less, and I needed a change. Contemporary church is where I found myself at home again. I still have love and fondness for my roots!)</div><div><br /></div>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07377902459097589452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5232323392621743480.post-37897748727572812102023-08-05T22:06:00.002-05:002023-08-05T22:40:33.086-05:00Ol' Sweet Day<p> Seventeen years ago today, I became a wife. The day was absolutely fantastic, and I carry so many wonderful memories with me still. Although our marriage ended a few years ago, I still recognize and "celebrate" the day each year, because it's an integral part of my life story, and I am grateful that it happened. </p><p><br /></p><p>When I was married, my youngest sister was seven years-old. My former husband and I were fortunate enough to have each of our immediate siblings in the wedding ceremony, but she was the youngest bridesmaid. She was not even up to my chest in height. It was one of my dreams come true to have my siblings with me on one of the most important days of my life. </p><p><br /></p><p>Today, seventeen years later, wearing my grandma's wedding dress, my youngest sister became a wife.</p><p><br /></p><p>Before she and her fiance were ever engaged, she had asked me if I would officiate her wedding someday, if her path lead her to be married. I was completely shocked, but absolutely honored, and said yes, I would be willing to have that role. Months later, her wonderful boyfriend, now husband, proposed to her, and she asked me again, to make sure I was still willing. I was overjoyed for her, and again, said I absolutely would do that. </p><p><br /></p><p>The day she introduced him to myself and my children, and I saw how well they immediately got along, and how he seemed to already love my kids, who are also a big part of my sister's life as they somewhat "grew up together" (she became an aunt when she was 11), and how at ease he was with us, I fell in love with him as a man for her. As we watched their relationship continue to grow, I prayed for them, believing he would be the one she would someday marry.</p><p><br /></p><p>Granted, I am not one who likes public speaking, but there was no reserve whatsoever in my heart. She recently told me that she knew I would be the perfect person to write her wedding ceremony and officiate their marriage. I won't lie, it made me emotional and I laid there with tears, blown away by how strongly she felt that way about me. </p><p><br /></p><p>Being a divorced, single momma, married just shy of ten years... I will not lie and say I had not had a few moments where I questioned whether or not I was the right person for the job. My marriage did not last. How could I possibly be a good fit for helping someone begin a new one? It took being told that I was not bad at marriage to help me reframe my view. When I thought about it with a fresh perspective, I started to see where my little sister was possibly coming from when she thought of me as the perfect fit for her wedding. I was not bad at marriage, even though it failed. And, honestly, because it failed, I have a perspective I did not have prior, as to some integral parts of what helps a marriage be strong. I laid in bed last night, unsure of myself in this role, but woke up this morning filled with joyous anticipation of the wedding to come. </p><p><br /></p><p>The wedding was wonderful. I was slightly nervous speaking in front of the dear family and friends who were able to attend, but as soon as I saw my brother-in-law begin escorting his mother in, my nerves were met with pure happiness. I could not stop smiling. It was a privilege to officiate alongside his grandpa, who helped with a few components of the ceremony, making it truly a special fit for both the bride and groom. When the rings were exchanged and I said they could give a great big high five (yes, that really happened, but they got to kiss after it), I had a rush of pure exhilaration, and I proclaimed them Mr. & Mrs. It was such a beautiful evening. </p><p><br /></p><p>My dad held on to my sister's bridesmaid dress from my wedding all those years ago. As I look at this photo of her today, holding the dress from my wedding, wearing my grandmother's dress for her own wedding, I have so many emotions. I feel slight sadness that the years go by so quickly, because even though I was 16 when she was born, I loved spending time with her (and our other sister who is a few years older than the bride) growing up. I had them visit me so many times and created some magnificent memories. I find myself in awe of the fact that not only is she my sister but one of my best friends, and that I have had the chance of seeing her as a newborn and grow into a wonderful young woman. I've been blessed by our relationship in so many unexplainable ways. There's something indescribably beautiful about having your baby sister grow into an adult best friend. To top all that off with being involved in each other's weddings, and those weddings being on the same date, and I feel overwhelmingly blessed by the gifts God has given us in this journey. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCkAwEq2vTFyHb5d3bB6Tt-VK2j-iMj8Lvo1czA1jWMptES1fnHc0Q-w_-iBk7YTllCTYe3iFfB_vcIlJiwrtXbLRIfGyee01n77DLSzw4jCJ1DawwbTSEFoCkT02501zelIjlwULM4lq33byPvj9ZBrRL85fX1FneuIV3EwuKyzlEn0iTzeWlRxyrEFk/s4032/received_1698259787306563-01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCkAwEq2vTFyHb5d3bB6Tt-VK2j-iMj8Lvo1czA1jWMptES1fnHc0Q-w_-iBk7YTllCTYe3iFfB_vcIlJiwrtXbLRIfGyee01n77DLSzw4jCJ1DawwbTSEFoCkT02501zelIjlwULM4lq33byPvj9ZBrRL85fX1FneuIV3EwuKyzlEn0iTzeWlRxyrEFk/w300-h400/received_1698259787306563-01.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>I am so grateful that we have been key figures in each other's life stories, and our love is so deep that we can't imagine our most important days without the other. </p><p><br /></p><p>I wish nothing but the absolute best, and am praying a lifetime of blessings for the new husband and wife. </p><p>It still feels surreal to say that. </p><p><br /></p>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07377902459097589452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5232323392621743480.post-1698040284348729162023-04-14T21:39:00.001-05:002023-04-14T21:40:19.743-05:00The last single digit..<p> Miss Norah,</p><p><br /></p><p>The day is almost near. It's a day you've been waiting for somewhat patiently for months. Your birthday. Again. Didn't you just have one? And must you keep reminding me that you are turning nine?</p><p><br /></p><p>Nine. My baby girl, my unexpected sunshine, is on the verge of her last single-digit birthday. You won't stop reminding me. I can't believe I've been a mom this long. </p><p><br /></p><p>The last year has been a year of growth in many ways. You seem so much taller, your hair thicker, darker, straighter. You're less baby-faced and more muscular. You're so strong, physically, mentally, and emotionally. You have faced your biggest academic struggles head on and threw down the walls of your heart in order to conquer them. </p><p><br /></p><p>You are such a compassionate little sister to both of your brothers. When someone picks on one, you stand by his side. You know how to calm him, reach him, and understand him, when sometimes even I don't. You are one of his safest spaces, even if some days you do more fighting than laughing. You have such forgiveness in your heart for when you are wronged. </p><p><br /></p><p>You know how to pester your oldest brother in a way that's filled with love, and the two of you have such a great relationship in that way. You stand up for him, but also to him when necessary, and you keep each other accountable. </p><p><br /></p><p>The three of you are a beautiful team. You've begun to grow in your communication skills, relating, and friendship, just as you've been growing in your capacity to irritate each other. Clearly, God made you to be a unit. </p><p><br /></p><p>Your almost nine years of experience living through hard situations alongside your brothers and I has helped you to be such a kind cousin and friend. </p><p><br /></p><p>Every one of the cousins you spend time with adores you for various reasons. You may be older than all but one of them, but you love each of them well for who they are, and you can tell how much they appreciate who you are. I adore watching you play together. I love that your cousins are some of your best friends. </p><p><br /></p><p>Your friends are so blessed as well. You have friends of all different ages, races, backgrounds, and abilities, and you treat each one with value and respect. Your experiences with your brothers have shaped your compassion and empathy and ability to embrace and cherish other kids who are neurodivergent which is something that the world needs more of and I am certain you are lighting the way for others around you. </p><p><br /></p><p>I love your heart for the suffering of others. When we see people on street corners holding up signs, you always want to help. Tonight, when we watched "the Hunchback of Notre Dame " you were filled with tears in the first few minutes as your heart broke for the injustice and suffering of one person cast out from the world. You spent most of the movie voicing how unkind people were and how unfair it was, because Quasimodo was beautiful to you with his cute, misshapen face. Your heart hurts for the hurting and you are not too proud to say so. I love watching you come alongside those who may be struggling, overlooked, or feel broken. </p><p><br /></p><p>This past year has been surreal in the way that you have become my little friend, not only my daughter. Sometimes, that's hard for you, when I have to parent in ways you don't appreciate, but as I have reminded, I'll always be your mom first, and friend second. But the development of our friendship has been such a blessing to both of us. I love sitting in the car with you to run errands as we laugh hysterically about something silly we said, or thought the other said, or a funny comment on the radio. We share similar interests in crafting and smoothies and have had many a date just the two of us when the boys turn us down. It's been a true delight. </p><p><br /></p><p>As you continue to mature, you continue to develop your own brand of sass and stubbornness, which while appreciated in some ways like in knowing you'll be able to stand your ground when you need to in years to come, and you won't just let others push you over and trample you, it has also been a bit of a struggle for me, learning to grow and figure out how to walk through it with you. In so many ways, I've found you are not like your brothers, and the things in little girl world are complex and deep many times. The one perk to going through these developments with you is that I too was a young girl once, so I relate just a little more than I do to some of the boys similar, but differing struggles. I have had to tell them that I was never a young boy, so sometimes I may need more clarity and understanding to know what is going on in their hearts and minds. </p><p><br /></p><p>Pip, I pray that this next year is absolutely splendid. I pray that it's filled with so much emotional rainbows and sunshine that you can hardly stand it. I pray that you can look back and see how far you've come in overcoming things in the past, and it gives you fortitude and courage for the future. </p><p><br /></p><p>I pray that your friendships continue to strengthen, despite the way young girl friendships ebb and flow, bend and break but then reform again, coming and going much like a tide. In the same way, I pray that those dearest friendships remain constant, also like the tide. </p><p><br /></p><p>I pray that you continue to see your inner and outer beauty in a world full of mirrors that are filtered to bring you down. I pray you see through that and only hold onto the mirrors that show the truth, and that builds you up. I pray I've done a good enough job filling your emotional storehouse of self-worth that you will never, ever believe you are anything less than beautiful and worthy. </p><p><br /></p><p>I pray the cats accidentally scratch you less and snuggle you more. I pray they really do eventually want to take pictures with you like you want to take pictures with them. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixJGjmGmoDVS17hvXRrEuu0cTSUeoWuB8FPTo7sMhLStpolMRvDJ_IjASJUBU08SDjN5N-UfbzlZQe-PxUGZAZeKYfk6sLPrnyyjVE57rKCH7Y-06ZiSTqW99ltM9lbjDpaXXP1MecIxd5pmGYkG5kX_v6prCE7OFLw1ofiH5iBNrzDtPL5hvJnPsW/s4000/IMG_20230414_174855767_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixJGjmGmoDVS17hvXRrEuu0cTSUeoWuB8FPTo7sMhLStpolMRvDJ_IjASJUBU08SDjN5N-UfbzlZQe-PxUGZAZeKYfk6sLPrnyyjVE57rKCH7Y-06ZiSTqW99ltM9lbjDpaXXP1MecIxd5pmGYkG5kX_v6prCE7OFLw1ofiH5iBNrzDtPL5hvJnPsW/s320/IMG_20230414_174855767_HDR.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF-3pNOhV85NwaIklFqVST0iXP2nZKJQ0QY5lss9xxClWRtzRys3cR6hbNPoaX68wxpEfruDDsZEbfgsJt8fTTINxL8UMOCFNUsVbVfLAj0q2gY3QUCLmrw5tg5fLiZYcWlg2icbFXjK_62MYC_5dnuUnYwkNAyVQV6um9pz7zVZu0uUchBIQhCt6k/s4000/IMG_20230414_174827539_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF-3pNOhV85NwaIklFqVST0iXP2nZKJQ0QY5lss9xxClWRtzRys3cR6hbNPoaX68wxpEfruDDsZEbfgsJt8fTTINxL8UMOCFNUsVbVfLAj0q2gY3QUCLmrw5tg5fLiZYcWlg2icbFXjK_62MYC_5dnuUnYwkNAyVQV6um9pz7zVZu0uUchBIQhCt6k/s320/IMG_20230414_174827539_HDR.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTYZfpJBdshJ2ApOehRRikvGjkcNirLJJRiVfzQ6GSDiLc-2Euf-BO9pmdH4EZD8jwirFm0CIUpsp_59QzxMFQG7k1JzkCmOAmjj7gwkdK7gRBqO4b71bluwxNVWyKD_YlbUXpCInK1TMxBBlH_-81V8q6qJxE9fwbPfOcvwjRaiCfTdrGrk-UUn6F/s4000/IMG_20230414_174844479_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTYZfpJBdshJ2ApOehRRikvGjkcNirLJJRiVfzQ6GSDiLc-2Euf-BO9pmdH4EZD8jwirFm0CIUpsp_59QzxMFQG7k1JzkCmOAmjj7gwkdK7gRBqO4b71bluwxNVWyKD_YlbUXpCInK1TMxBBlH_-81V8q6qJxE9fwbPfOcvwjRaiCfTdrGrk-UUn6F/s320/IMG_20230414_174844479_HDR.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>I pray that as you and your brothers approach big years of growth, you remember who you all are deep down inside, and you can approach each other with mercy and endless grace. </p><p><br /></p><p>I pray that you hear the truth Jesus has spoken about you, and you hear his whispers regularly. </p><p><br /></p><p>Baby girl, not so much a baby, but yet, always my baby, </p><p>I love you. </p><p>You love me more...</p><p><br /></p><p>But as I've told you, that's not possible. </p><p><br /></p><p>Happy birthday, Norah B. </p><p><br /></p><p>Love,</p><p>Momma</p>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07377902459097589452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5232323392621743480.post-35693288967503822962022-10-31T20:43:00.002-05:002022-10-31T20:56:51.539-05:00Our first dozen years.<p> Dearest Spencer,</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaQ5pajMo-D-y5L30SpxfMeGOAuQneo-qLwKY0ZLf-vzUPq8Dyyo0yLlDy6uMG199JVN9MNpDzxeKQ-UPfTPVucwmzpfAnf0sOF7EsGvHcz-Xkf_QMzVW9J4L6msirjp1IED2RRfMk-vTwUBA_-TIrGtDbsgWjZn4Q2DSJJ9QZkupzI-w0YkeUryn-/s4000/IMG_20221031_193008347_PORTRAIT-01.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="2590" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaQ5pajMo-D-y5L30SpxfMeGOAuQneo-qLwKY0ZLf-vzUPq8Dyyo0yLlDy6uMG199JVN9MNpDzxeKQ-UPfTPVucwmzpfAnf0sOF7EsGvHcz-Xkf_QMzVW9J4L6msirjp1IED2RRfMk-vTwUBA_-TIrGtDbsgWjZn4Q2DSJJ9QZkupzI-w0YkeUryn-/s320/IMG_20221031_193008347_PORTRAIT-01.jpeg" width="207" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Is it true? It this really your last year before becoming an official teenager? It doesn’t seem real at all, but the calendar and your height tell me it has to be reality.</p><p>You are awesome. I hope you know that. Deep in your heart, I hope you believe it, because it’s absolutely true.</p><p>I know that you struggle with feeling your value and seeing your worth sometimes. We all do, really. But Spencer, there are so many ways that you exhibit what an amazing human you are. You notice people that others may overlook, and you are so kind to them. You do little favors for people, or offer kindness in ways of help or gifts, even though you don’t think anyone’s watching. So many times, I’ve heard about it, and you’ve always just shrugged, because to you, it wasn’t a big deal. To them- it was huge. You make a lasting impact in a positive way even when you’re not aiming to do so. This happens more often than you’d think, and it makes my heart so very happy when I hear these things. You make me so proud.</p><p>This year has been messy, as we have noticed almost every year is in some way, but overall, it’s been a good year. With your maturity, we have been able to relate on deeper levels, and your sense of humor aligns even more with mine than ever before. I have loved mornings and afternoons when it’s just us in the car and we can chat and joke around together. You’re so quick witted, which shouldn’t be surprising to me, but somehow, you still find a way to catch me off guard. I also find joy in taking selfies with you to commemorate our silly conversations, and secretly, have saved most of them in my phone. Now you know. I love when we have time some weeks to have special secret coffee and donut breakfasts before school and how it was a beautiful transition from the loss of lunches together in elementary school.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT7DSYz7UP8-hsR42IDqXKNuS5T_XSm13iDs2WzjqpQgRbPOX-hPhhvJPQxig8-qTCFLVbs1xUD5J59nT7XbwP_3CeAg_8E7Gc67Mffi9VNF_8pv5NFKw6kXXRtYKxGUNyzLUHmJBqRw7Z6qOOaPF_zwVKI1ovv64CZ3N2b8I35f4oJUvZ2T8x66G5/s2947/56006.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2947" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT7DSYz7UP8-hsR42IDqXKNuS5T_XSm13iDs2WzjqpQgRbPOX-hPhhvJPQxig8-qTCFLVbs1xUD5J59nT7XbwP_3CeAg_8E7Gc67Mffi9VNF_8pv5NFKw6kXXRtYKxGUNyzLUHmJBqRw7Z6qOOaPF_zwVKI1ovv64CZ3N2b8I35f4oJUvZ2T8x66G5/s320/56006.jpeg" width="156" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>You’re a brilliant mind, kiddo. I know that the transition into middle school is a little rough with new and heavier expectations, but I really believe that you will grow to love it more and more, and continue to meet people who you relate to and build lasting friendships with. I’m so excited to see what your future holds academically. I know I’ve told you in the past that I was smart and got great grades in school, and I like to think you get a lot of that from me, but I really can’t wait to see your potential unleashed because I can see that my ceiling will be your floor and you will accomplish so many great things in your life. It’s interesting to me to listen to how your mind processes things, and it astounds me to see the ease at which you pick up on new skills and talents. </p><p> I love listening to you play the piano, guitar, and viola (although I would prefer it wasn’t at the exact moment I ask you to get into bed at night). I love singing along to the radio with you, in harmony, and in unison, sometimes making up our own lyrics or discussing ones we have heard and what they mean. I can’t wait to hear the melodies you produce throughout your life. Your story will be a song.. I feel it.</p><p>One thing that has happened in the last year that totally surprised me, and in a great way, was to see your love for younger kids burst open wide. It’s a bittersweet thing to not have you at the daycare where I work anymore, because you’re “too old” as you began making so many friends with the toddlers and preschoolers and I could see them light a spark of joy in you that was new and exciting. I’m so thankful that you have younger cousins in your life that and that joy can continue sparking into brighter flames.</p><p>You’re a fierce protector of those you love, even if sometimes, like your siblings, or your mom, they also can irritate you. When you feel someone is being wronged, you are there to stand for what is right, and I am so proud of you for that.</p><p>I could go on and on about how many wonderful things I see in you, but I also know that you’re probably blushing and feeling awkward at this point and wishing that I would stop. So, I will continue to try and sprinkle these truths around for you in our regular day to day lives and just pray you pick up on them.</p><p>Speaking of prayers, I want you to know that I’m still praying fervently for you to feel your value and your worth, and that all the lies you have believed of your self based on former life circumstances, trauma, or words from others fall away. They are nothing but lies, and you are perfectly made as you are. I pray that you’ll feel yourself fitting in, not just as a part of our family unit, but as an individual, in places and groups around you. I pray that your kind heart continues to grow and your light continues to shine, because there’s a beacon inside of you buddy, I can see it. I pray that you laugh more than ever before, find so much joy in all circumstances, latch onto the perseverance that is inside of you, and carry on with bravery as you always have. I pray that the struggles you find yourself facing are overcome and you feel stronger on the other side. </p><p>I pray you know I’m always for you, never against you, and never going anywhere. I’ll always be right here with my arms waiting to hug you, my ears waiting to hear you, and my heart loving you continuously. Sappy, I know, but as you know, that’s who I am.</p><p>So, my dear boy, the one who is continuing to teach me how to be a mother, testing the boundaries and shaping my heart, I am so thankful that God chose us to figure out this life together. We were made for each other, and as I told you just the other day, I have wanted you since I was a girl your age- and I prayed that someday God would bring you into my life. I am so incredibly thankful that he did.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZBeb4P4-_QYCqaPDItR3_pszJCHnBb2C1bCG-tVX3L2zhZv3ESszWn8BJgtrmap0Tpk1tAiy_D1cJtlk-jt5smL4w0o_b5dYL5GM91AyLV3YmX5H4hPGqVeP3VswFU9Unyu8dAQw2vb53IxLmxce7Km43WyOg2Rj70nUQF96_bFu2Yh0IVmXRyMmC/s2947/45216.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2947" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZBeb4P4-_QYCqaPDItR3_pszJCHnBb2C1bCG-tVX3L2zhZv3ESszWn8BJgtrmap0Tpk1tAiy_D1cJtlk-jt5smL4w0o_b5dYL5GM91AyLV3YmX5H4hPGqVeP3VswFU9Unyu8dAQw2vb53IxLmxce7Km43WyOg2Rj70nUQF96_bFu2Yh0IVmXRyMmC/s320/45216.jpeg" width="156" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Love you always, no matter what…</p><p>Mom (Bruh.)</p>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07377902459097589452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5232323392621743480.post-26140201233930596882022-08-31T19:53:00.001-05:002022-08-31T19:53:00.989-05:00And a decade has passed us...<p>My dearest Collin Liam,</p><p><br /></p><p>Ten years ago today, I was almost two full weeks past my due date in my pregnancy with you. I had tried quite literally everything I could think of to coax you out into this world, and you were content as could be staying where you were.</p><p>Some things haven’t changed much in ten years.</p><p>You still want to come along on your own time. You still maybe are a little bit pokey sometimes. You still don’t want to be without your momma for very long. In fact, you’ve told me you want to live with me until you’re older than 50. You are still almost always moving, bouncing around, making noise.</p><p>Lots of things have changed though. Your birthmark has gotten barely lighter but oh so much bigger. Your hair is long and a little unkempt most days. You have gotten so much taller, too.</p><p>This year, I’ll keep it short and sweet, because I have noticed lately you stop paying attention if I start getting too long winded.</p><p>Ollie Bear, I am proud of you. You’ve grown tremendously with your emotional and spacial awareness. You are learning to take pause when you’re becoming overwhelmed. </p><p>You have become so brave. You are so kind, especially to little children and those much older than you. You are incredibly smart, which we always knew, but have begun to focus even more in school and allow others to really see it too. You are wildly creative, especially in your play. I have loved watching you develop a deep friendship with your sister, and listening to the two of you play dinosaurs is so much fun. You have become quite an innovative problem solver, and increased in your scavenging skills, both outside and in our own cupboards. </p><p>I pray this year is filled with goodness beyond your wildest dreams. I pray you see the gold in yourself as others around you see it within you. I pray that you continue to be in touch with your beautiful, caring heart, and that patience and wisdom in tough circumstances continues to develop. I pray that you see your own prayers answered right before your eyes. I pray that you develop deep, lasting friendships. I pray that you never have a single day without a hug.</p><p>In the morning, shortly after midnight actually, you will be one full decade old. I can hardly believe it. Like is still the case, the night you were born, you decided you were ready to meet us and you came quickly and dramatically, as you often do when you’re ready to be somewhere or doing something now. You snuggled right up to me, like you still do, ten years later. You’ve loved hugs every day of those ten years, you know.</p><p>I’m so thankful you are mine, Mister Man. </p><p>You’re one of the best things that ever happened to me and I’m so glad you’re mine.</p><p>Love you, always and forever,</p><p>Mom</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDXryd0OXHoKHG9TxG2dVneRwO3PZddgQ1BF_gRXt5ZwRQUeXZtxe64oIed9bhNSoRqbJcuWadBygmyyzS6FQRLerQhS6PkAzWFxt08BIEMmne1BX-94Xr94UniK4lvMjB8oeVf-yNxVRv2cxDTrhEFeK44N9aRQFMv0yyCCIlkHfggCeD7YRaC9t7/s4000/IMG_20220831_193141665_PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDXryd0OXHoKHG9TxG2dVneRwO3PZddgQ1BF_gRXt5ZwRQUeXZtxe64oIed9bhNSoRqbJcuWadBygmyyzS6FQRLerQhS6PkAzWFxt08BIEMmne1BX-94Xr94UniK4lvMjB8oeVf-yNxVRv2cxDTrhEFeK44N9aRQFMv0yyCCIlkHfggCeD7YRaC9t7/s320/IMG_20220831_193141665_PORTRAIT.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07377902459097589452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5232323392621743480.post-28789355919373412402022-05-25T21:33:00.005-05:002022-05-25T21:42:58.183-05:00Aching elementary hearts<p> This morning in our home, today began like most mornings over the last nine months have- a flurry of alarm clocks, sock hunts, lunch making, shirt turning inside-out-ing, backpack filling, shoe finding, five minute reminder chaotic filled moments. We made a special trip for "last day of the school year donuts" on the way to yet another traffic jammed elementary school drop-off lane commute. </p><p><br /></p><p>"Have a great last day of school! I love you!" I called to each of my three kiddos as they jumped out of the van and scurried off for the school doors. </p><p><br /></p><p>Yesterday, my fifth grader gave me permission to cry if I needed as I embraced the sentiment of the day. As I drove away, I did just that.</p><p><br /></p><p>I have spent the majority of the past six years' mornings in that drop-off lane, calling out to one, then two, then three kiddos as they left my presence each morning. I've watched scrawny little wide-eyed, nervous and excited kids grow into bigger, more confident, wise, hilarious, and sometimes awkward kids. </p><p><br /></p><p>I have had six years worth of first day of school teary drop-offs and now six years of last day of school teary pick-ups. </p><p><br /></p><p>This afternoon was different. I surprised my kids at the school picking them up again this year, and each one greeted me with tears falling down their cheeks, as usual for the day. But this year, the tears had a little more depth to them as we all realized the end of an era has come. </p><p><br /></p><p>The big brother of the trio finished elementary school today. Overcome with emotions, he made his way to me, walking alongside one of the counselors who has helped him grow so these years, and immediately found solace in my arms. I held him while he cried and told me how it was hard to say goodbye, so difficult to be done with the hallways and classrooms of the building, and so sad to say goodbye to almost every other fifth grader, as he would not be attending the same middle school as they would. He told me how much he was going to miss his teacher and so many other teachers and staff in the building. He found himself embraced in hugs from his siblings and from some staff, and waved teary goodbyes to many others. I reminded him that he may still see some of them around the city, and again in early mornings next year as he waited for his bus transport to middle school each day. He reminded me gently that "that's not the same." I acknowledge the truth as well and held his hand as we walked onward. </p><p><br /></p><p>His siblings, also saddened by the see you later the end of the year brings, cried over having to part with teachers they loved, and knowing it would be a shorto before they'd see many of their classmates again. But this year, they cried alongside their brother as the reality that he wouldn't be in their school next year sunk in. They cried over surprise encounters and hugs in the hallway they would no longer have. They remarked on the sadness knowing they would be across town. They all hugged each other a while, before walking silently down the sidewalk to our van. </p><p><br /></p><p>We celebrated with a treat after school as we usually do, and then came home to unwind. They all fell asleep quickly after mentioning in an upbeat fashion that it's now summer break and that it is exciting. </p><p><br /></p><p>As they fell asleep in their room, I laid in my own, tears streaming yet again as I process the events of today. My heart swells with pride in bittersweet moments where they huddle together to embrace memories they have shared and anticipation of change. </p><p><br /></p><p>My heart aches as I remember all the years that have gone by, and feeling like somehow time cheated us all. We spend so much of our days going from one thing to the next and planning for things to begin and subsequently end, looking at the clock and the calendar and cramming as much as we can into our lives, day in and day out. The past few years have brought a bit of reprieve from that way of life and have made way for evaluation and reset, but still, so many days pass us by in old fashion. </p><p><br /></p><p>Tonight, I realized my oldest is nob longer an elementary student. He is nearly 12. Most of my years with him in my home may have already gone by. Most of my summers spent making memories with all three have likely passed us by. We are holding onto final years, weeks, and days together, and we will never get them back again. I find myself holding my breath as I write those words, knowing that I need to embrace that reality and make our time count. I know the risk of complacency and the ease at which we can take our time for granted. In the uncertain world we find ourselves in, I tell myself that cannot be good enough. I have to do better. </p><p><br /></p><p>I pray for the strength, the resilience, the persistence, determination, resolve, grace, wisdom, and mercy to truly value our days together while my children are young. I pray I am not so easily distracted or frustrated and able to be more present. I pray that even amidst preteen and teenage drama and hormones and power struggles and boundary testing, misunderstandings and overwhelming emotions, beautiful relationships continue to flourish. I pray that for every fight there are two loving encounters on the other side. </p><p><br /></p><p>Rocky roads may lay ahead in uncertain territory but I believe some of the most wonderful journeys will occur right beside them.</p><p><br /></p><p>I pray for countless tomorrows in a life we take for granted, with the stark realization from current times that there's no guarantee for any hour past this one. </p><p><br /></p><p>One of the things I want most for my life is that my children will look back some day, and despite the countless traumas, trials, struggles and sorrows, they will see me there with them, helping them embrace the beauty and joy in every season. I want their memory banks to be filled in a way that they will never question whether I was there or cared enough. I want them to one day be adults that knew just how fully loved they were in every stage of their childhood. </p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidT_jlWpWw2PnuX3CCMXsevuRh47wfaovsW1OjqLM7gtOaGUh7_QFn1kjC-NbeNADSUwDjtdfqihthHuE14nsCThRAy7rtgNPJJBDg2fm4LKqA2AJwttisvjoO2gbGkCS6YVHMECiETflOagTC_EU7DVUO4yQlgAw_dDGsS3KLetLtv0e8ScoSjGdo/s4000/IMG_20220525_150040339_PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidT_jlWpWw2PnuX3CCMXsevuRh47wfaovsW1OjqLM7gtOaGUh7_QFn1kjC-NbeNADSUwDjtdfqihthHuE14nsCThRAy7rtgNPJJBDg2fm4LKqA2AJwttisvjoO2gbGkCS6YVHMECiETflOagTC_EU7DVUO4yQlgAw_dDGsS3KLetLtv0e8ScoSjGdo/s320/IMG_20220525_150040339_PORTRAIT.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />Time is already winding down. <p></p>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07377902459097589452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5232323392621743480.post-8210747020475877862022-05-23T16:54:00.001-05:002022-05-23T17:34:23.950-05:00He was my dream come true.<p> On August 15, 2006, the sweetest little pup was born alongside a handful of siblings. A few weeks later, I met him, and called him my very own. </p><p><br /></p><p>When I was a younger girl, I dreamt of one day having a beagle of my own. I knew that if and when that day would come, I would name him Wendell. </p><p><br /></p><p>Wendell Rupert was a belated wedding (he was born ten days after my marriage began) and early birthday gift (he came home shortly before my birthday that year. From the moment I saw him alongside his momma, he had my heart. </p><p><br /></p><p>I remember the night I drove him home, as he snuggled up in a blanket, crying softly on occasion, but otherwise sleepy and content. When he came home to our apartment, he was less than thrilled with kennel life, but adjusted nonetheless. </p><p><br /></p><p>It wasn't long before Wendell started blessing me with memories. He ate a phone book, and chewed off and ate the corner of my "Complete Works of Shakespeare" one day. </p><p><br /></p><p>Another night, when he was still a puppy, I had set a pizza on the counter in the kitchen to cool. Somehow, this little puppy made his way onto the counter and ate half of it. We learned quickly that Wendell had a vertical jump like none other, and by the time he was full grown, he could reach a treat approximately six feet in the air. I'm his later years, he once jumped on the kitchen counter while I was at work, opened the cupboard doors, chewed open a bag of sugar, are a bunch of it and spilled the rest. Then, while I was still working, the sugar made him sick, and I came home to regurgitated sugar "pancakes" all over the floor.</p><p><br /></p><p>Wendell, like many dogs, loved the snow. He would run through snow that was higher than he was and never seemed to grow tired of it. </p><p><br /></p><p>He also loved cuddles. His favorite place was in the bend behind my knees if I was laying on my side. He would read his head over my legs and snore away soundly. We spent countless hours like that, and he kept me the most dear company on nights when my former husband was away for work. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQYGxeegyGcHkv0g6n3p-CNP5MQcfBIkxGdlwyrvd0o3WH_mhMM3Z_6n8hLBJ_ns_A8ziVr7S9fqWTBYqJJUezTwNjfXnTY2bR0aK3PiSykXavMQ3UiK-aIuR-eJOZgZFZTXdtM3mMjRxe9-ItbUCfLBIM76rGaYfIiLZfBOc-R3PhNh7ucgBS--4_/s720/FB_IMG_1653338223847.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="458" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQYGxeegyGcHkv0g6n3p-CNP5MQcfBIkxGdlwyrvd0o3WH_mhMM3Z_6n8hLBJ_ns_A8ziVr7S9fqWTBYqJJUezTwNjfXnTY2bR0aK3PiSykXavMQ3UiK-aIuR-eJOZgZFZTXdtM3mMjRxe9-ItbUCfLBIM76rGaYfIiLZfBOc-R3PhNh7ucgBS--4_/s320/FB_IMG_1653338223847.jpg" width="204" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>He loved riding in the car, specifically the back window. I always wondered why he preferred that spot. I wonder if it's because he could see so much more from up there. Occasionally, I would brake, and he would roll down into the seat, come say hello with his tail wagging excitedly, and then hop right back into the window. </p><p><br /></p><p>He, as a beagle generally is, was a bit mischievous and also so very smart. He knew the difference between right and left and would high five the correct hand that you would call out. He would sit and shake, jump and even crawl. He would try to fake us out and turn his head really fast when we asked him to roll over, but he couldn't fool us, and eventually would give in and do the trick He couldn't make up his mind whether he wanted to be inside or outside some days, and I would have to go back and forth and back again trying to help him decide. One time, I had him hooked up outside in the backyard a while, and then realized he had gotten free. A while later, I received a phone call from someone across town who had found him. "He obeyed the traffic laws and waited to cross the street until it was clear! He even used the cross walk!" The gentleman on the other end of the line, who was keeping him safe in his truck at the hardware store, explained as he called the number on Wendell's tag. </p><p><br /></p><p>Wendell was my constant companion, and after a while, we brought home a girl before, Vivian, that we rescued from someone who had not cared for her well. She was super skittish for a long, long time, but Wendell loved her, as did we. Before our children entered our lives, Wendell and Vivian had become parents two separate times. Wendell did good with all of his busy kids, just like he always did with human children in his life when he lived with me. He really just loved everyone he met. He loved our kitten that lived on the farm with us, too!</p><p><br /></p><p>Unfortunately, Vivian needed more freedom than we could give her after she had her babies, so she found another family that could provide that for her, and we let her go on and love them. It was one of the hardest decisions I had to make. </p><p><br /></p><p>Wendell stayed by my side though. He continued to love me fiercely and well through my first pregnancy. In fact, he loved me so much, he once peed on my leg to mark his territory when we were with a group of family and other dogs. It was so gross, but equally hilarious. </p><p><br /></p><p>Wendell was there when we brought home our first son, and loved him instantly. He spent many hours curled up beside the baby, especially if the baby wasn't feeling well. He wouldn't leave his side. As our son grew, they became playmates and partners in mischief. Our son would laugh hysterically as he would hold a piece of his food in his high chair and Wendell would jump up and get it, or he would feed Wendell dog food, piece by piece, and giggle like crazy. They were best friends. </p><p><br /></p><p>My heart broke when we couldn't bring him with us, after having him at my side for six years, as we moved into a larger rental to prepare for the arrival of our second baby. I tried everything I could to find a place that would allow him to come with us. I was eternally grateful that my dad was able to foster Wendell for a while, and I could continue to love having him a part of my family. When my dad also needed to move, a friend of my cousin brought Wendell and his daughter home, and she was able to foster him a while. I was so fortunate to be able to see him still while he lived with them. Because of this friend, my youngest baby, my daughter, was also able to meet Wendell in her lifetime. </p><p><br /></p><p>My heart continued to break when life took another turn and the friend could no longer keep Wendell in her home, and without other options, he was surrendered to the humane society. </p><p><br /></p><p>My heart began to mend when I learned that a family in the area had found him and brought him home. That would be his final home, where he spent his final seven years. The most wonderful part about his new home, the haven he was blessed with, was that they shared photos and stories of his later years online, so even though I had to let him go, I was still able to see him. I have been grateful for this family every day since they brought him home. </p><p><br /></p><p>One of my life's biggest regrets, although not entirely in my control, was that I was never able to have him come back home to me. It was always my hope and my goal to bring him back home. My own world was falling apart before he was in the humane society, and struggling as a single mom to three kiddos at the time and trying to provide for us just proved to be a little too much and kept me from fulfilling that dream. I have spent countless days and nights crying out in sorrow knowing I failed to see that dream through, still able to feel his presence behind my knees while I laid awake in bed at night. I've spent hours wondering if I broke his heart as much as I broke my own, and wondering if he missed me as much as I missed him. The guilt and remorse was in unbearable for quite some time. </p><p><br /></p><p>I have loved Wendell every day since he was born, even when he wasn't at my side. </p><p><br /></p><p>The portion of my heart that held him closest shattered this morning when I read that his time on earth had come to and end. He lived a long and beautiful life at nearly sixteen years old. I hadn't been able to hold him in my arms for years, but I have carried him with me always. I find comfort knowing he lived a long life and provided me with countless memories, but I know I will still shed a few more tears in his honor. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Rest in Peace, Wendell Rupert. You were my dream come true. </p><div><br /></div>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07377902459097589452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5232323392621743480.post-6632786295411625182022-04-14T18:53:00.005-05:002022-04-14T20:01:40.287-05:00From Seven to Eight<p> Miss Norah, my darling girl,</p><p><br /></p><p>This morning, I woke you and your brothers as always, with my "morning love you song." Part of me believes you intentionally stay in bed until my musical alarm greets you for the day. This morning, I added a line about your last day being seven years old. You laughed and got out of bed quickly to hug me with excitement in your eyes. You've had a countdown to your birthday for weeks, multiple times a day asking the Alexa (that you renamed Ziggy and confused us all) how many days until your birthday, because she included hours as well. </p><p>Tomorrow morning, you will wake up eight years old. Every year, every birthday, I wake you all up singing happy birthday instead of the morning song. This year is a little different.</p><p>This particular birthday will be unlike any other so far, as you have emotionally thought through over the course of the past few weeks. This birthday, you will wake up in a room that is not your own, away from your brothers and I, for the very first time ever. We have talked about it together, and you've shared your excitement but also your sadness knowing it will be different. As you left this afternoon to head to the hotel with your bonus sister and bonus mom, as your sister is 364 days older than you, you were 99% excited and 1% hesitant. I considered this a success in tapping into the joy and living in the moment, although I was a bit sad to see you go. I reminded you that you probably will barely remember I'm not around in the morning, but you promised you would miss me. We are quite a pair, aren't we?</p><p>"I love you." I will say.</p><p>"I love you most." You reply. </p><p>"Not possible!" I respond. </p><p>"Yes it is!" You always exclaim. We argue this little conversation daily, and seeing you go today felt the same. </p><p>Miss Norah, it's been another amazing year with you. You've become fierce, independent but simultaneously still needy, witty, physically stronger, mathematically a wiz, kinder, ornerier, gentler, more compassionate, intensely passionate, and more beautiful than ever. One of my great joys is hearing stories of your beautiful heart shining for others when I am not around. I love knowing that you carry yourself in that way even when I'm not watching, not knowing that I hear about it as it happens. You love others just because God calls you to, and you do it well. </p><p>Growing up has meant your emotions have deepened, which has been quite a rollercoaster. You can go from elated to devastated in seconds, intensely sobbing to hysterically laughing, round and round again multiple times a day. I know you get frustrated with me sometimes, not always knowing what to say, or do, or how to react, but I am appreciative of your grace and mercy, as you know I love you, no matter what the moment might feel like. I know we will continue to navigate these rides together and it will make our relationship so much stronger. </p><p>My little Brownie Bite, now that you're more mature, I feel like our mother daughter relationship is starting to also really root itself in friendship. I love our adventures in crafting, playing, grocery shopping, walking, singing, laughing, and snuggling. I love that you share a similar sense of humor to me and I can make you laugh like no one else in the world. I love that you get me, too, and can decode what it is I'm trying to say even when I don't have legitimate words coming out of my mouth. </p><p>I love how much you love your brothers. You know them well and can speak their love languages easily. It's so much fun listening to you all converse and interact. The fighting .. well... I could do without that, but I know it comes with the sibling relationship and sometimes I know I just have to bite my tongue and hide in my room a few minutes while you all sort things out. You're all getting pretty good at it, too! </p><p>I love watching you continue to flourish in your role as a cousin, and also as a friend to both your existing friends and the new little loves in your life. I see so many people enamored by you!</p><p>I pray that in this next year, your ambitions and desires continue to grow. I pray that your heart continues to shine for those around you. I pray that you choose to do the right things, the good things, the hard things, the loving things, even if no one is watching you. I pray you dance in the sunshine and the rain, and that you never let anyone dampen the song in your soul. I pray you see yourself through my eyes and through Jesus eyes, and not through the negative perceptions you think others may see. I pray you know how to stand up when the world wants you to fall, and that you know the strength inside your soul. I pray you have endless joy and countless fits of laughter, and you know there are always arms around to hug you when you need. </p><p>I am so thankful for you, baby girl. Thank you for bringing so much color and sparkle to our lives. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVr_1d_sNlgmwDQMH4y2inmr10gYNuThHfVLQ_mxOm-qK5cKpP9pth-G7oIopmOFxCLXlziv4QXVM2WRucKT9ZfXZsnYp0vCOMjz2dfaOQNsizTw6FLbndmI3xj6wH9eGm1u_96Qkak3RYJyHLpDGRRKkEtaJWp4sUgpn-7wmAADPLU61ypDKyy-hy/s4000/IMG_20220414_152448252_PORTRAIT-01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVr_1d_sNlgmwDQMH4y2inmr10gYNuThHfVLQ_mxOm-qK5cKpP9pth-G7oIopmOFxCLXlziv4QXVM2WRucKT9ZfXZsnYp0vCOMjz2dfaOQNsizTw6FLbndmI3xj6wH9eGm1u_96Qkak3RYJyHLpDGRRKkEtaJWp4sUgpn-7wmAADPLU61ypDKyy-hy/s320/IMG_20220414_152448252_PORTRAIT-01.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Happy 8th birthday, Norah. I cannot wait to see your 8 year-old smile tomorrow. </p><p>Love you most,</p><p>Momma</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07377902459097589452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5232323392621743480.post-66067997518432470802022-01-29T18:41:00.006-06:002022-01-30T14:28:34.453-06:00One Year Later<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">On January 29, 2021, I woke up, stood up from my bed, and a real-life nightmare had begun. The most intense, searing pain I had ever felt in my life started shooting, non-stop, from my foot through my spine, and I could not tolerate walking without crying out or shrieking in pain. My children were terrified as they watched me battle six steps from my bed to my door frame, where I clutched on with all my might, not certain how I was going to continue any further. I quite honestly thought I was going to die that morning.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">God gave me the strength to walk the short distance across our apartment, where I tried my best to sit in a chair, but was splayed out as straight as I could be, crying and trying not to slip out. Nothing was making the situation better. My mortified children got ready for school as quickly as they could, and I battled again as I made my way down the stairs and into our van, crying continually as I felt I was being stabbed, electrocuted, and tortured from the inside out during the school drop-off drive. It was unsafe to drive that way, I know, but I was in a panic and did not know what else to do.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As my scared children got out of the van at the school, I couldn’t turn to face them as I told them I loved them, and my oldest son simply said, “You’re going to the doctor today, right?” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He knows I’m stubborn. Even after having gone through covid twice by that point, and having had been to countless doctor and specialist visits as we tried to tackle the issues that lingered from that sickness, I hated the idea of going to the doctor unless it was absolutely necessary. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">“I’m going there next,” I said, realizing it was necessary. I decided in that moment to go to the emergency room, because I was quite afraid that if I went home and called to make an appointment somewhere, I may not make it up and down the stairs again. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I pulled up to the ER, forced myself out of the van and walked through the torture, tears running down my face, trying not to scream. After quite a long visit where the doctor told me over and over she didn’t know what the issue was, serving me multiple strong pain killers and muscle relaxants and telling me it was probably just sciatica, she advised me to find someone to give me a ride home, and come back if it got worse- otherwise, just try to rest.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I went home and unable to function, I slept again. I woke up many hours later, mustered the strength to try to stand up from my bed, and as I moved into standing motion, it was WORSE. In no way had I ever imagined it could be worse, but it was. It was then, crying and shaking, I realized also that I could hardly feel my left foot. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Panicking, I messaged a friend or two who advised me that yes, that was considered worse, and one of them offered to give me a ride back to the emergency room after work. I agreed and tried my best to survive laying in bed again as I waited. I was terrified. I had no idea what was going on and if it was going to be something we could fix. I thought back to the morning and how the doctor figured it wasn’t really a big deal and told me over and over it just didn’t make sense. I did not want to go back, but I also could not imagine staying home and living through the pain any longer.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I have a high tolerance for pain. I’ve had fractured ribs and worked through them the best I could, broken nose, daily intense pain in one foot, intense neuropathy in my legs for almost a year, natural childbirth, and other things… and I know that I am strong. I know I have a high tolerance, usually.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I thought maybe I was being ridiculous, but I really, truly, was afraid I might die. It was that bad.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I returned to the ER to the same doctor as the morning, because it had not been even twelve hours. I did not want my friend to see me in pain, so I said I would just go in on my own. When I entered the door, they all were so shocked to see me back. I explained through gasping breaths and full-body shudders that it was in fact worse, and that I was losing feeling in my foot.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Still, that doctor insisted on pain killers and that it was probably sciatica. She offered that I wait so she could consult the next doctor on shift change.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He was much more helpful. I could tell he believed me. As I laid flat in bed the pain was tolerable, but any time I would move, or try to sit up, I just could not any longer. He told me that he did not know what it was, but he was certain it was serious, and he suggested I be admitted to the hospital.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I came up with an abundance of reasons not to go. I consulted family and friends, who all urged me it was the right choice, and I reluctantly agreed. The ER doctor told me that in the hospital at least they would likely give me steroids (which was his suggestion) and do imaging to get to the bottom of it. He did not feel it was in my best interest to refuse, and after another long wait and a visit from my friend, I took the ambulance to the hospital and was admitted.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The entire time, I felt so foolish. While I was strapped flat to the stretcher, I was okay. Getting me from the bed to the stretcher, I sobbed uncontrollably. When we got to the hospital, it was the same. I was not even moving my body on my own, but it was completely intolerable- unless I was laying flat and not moving.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was a long, terrifying night, as I waited until the early morning hours to receive and MRI. I was so exhausted, and at this time again on strong meds, that I slept through it. The nurses and doctors and physical therapists throughout the day assured me I was not crazy, calling it a spinal injury, and assuring me they are insanely painful. My nurse insisted I was incredible as she helped me to sit upright on my bed, lifted me to standing, and walked the 10 feet with me to the bathroom. I was using a walker and I was being held up by that strap they fasten around your chest. I couldn’t stand straight, and I every time I would put any weight on my left foot, which I still could barely feel, it was that searing, incredible pain. It took many minutes to get there, as I cried, and shuddered, and screamed, and grappled for air, yelling “I can’t do this anymore! I don’t think I can make it!” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It took a very long day and a half, doing multiple physical therapy sessions for suspected sciatica, before I had any results of the MRI were finally revealed. My spinal injury was a ruptured, bulging disc, spinal stenosis, bone spurs and deterioration of some discs. I had multiple doctors advise me that the only course of treatment that would likely be effective was spinal surgery. While I waited, we were trying physical therapy moves lying in prone position, as well as ice and a nearly constant TENS unit, to help with pain and the constant twitching in my buttocks and thighs. None of these did much to help.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The idea of spinal surgery terrified me as well. My thoughts swirled to the morning prior, and how it could have possibly been the very last time I saw my children face-to-face, because there was a risk of death with surgery, of course. I couldn’t even hug them… all I had done was scream and cry. I prayed, and asked for prayer from as many people as I could think of, scared to even share the news. I had one visitor (because that was all I was allowed), my dear friend again, who brought me some clothing and a few things to do.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I agreed to surgery. I had to covid test first. I had told my nurse earlier in the day that I had already been sick with covid twice in 2020, so there’s no way it could come back positive.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">An hour or so after the test was given, I had a notification in my phone that my results were posted. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was covid positive. Again.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I broke down emotionally. I could not fathom this result. I called the nurse back in, and now that I was covid positive it took a long time for her to arrive in my room. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Everything had shifted. I had gone from having surgery in the morning so that I could hopefully function on my own again, to having no idea if and when I would be treated. They thought that due to the severity, they would still likely do surgery- initially anyway. I was told not to worry, as they transferred me to the covid wing of the hospital for isolation and development of a new plan.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I will be completely honest in saying that the moment I entered the covid room, I lost any shred of emotional strength I had left at that point, and sobbed for hours. I cried all night long. The staff had hooked me up to all the necessary wires and then booked it out of there so quickly, leaving me alone, late at night, in a bright, loud room with the TV blaring, no remote near me, and the bed call button not functioning… and I bawled hysterically. I was so exhausted. I felt so defeated. I was completely and utterly overwhelmed and it was the only thing I could do.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Sometime the next morning, I had calmed down enough to speak with the new morning nurses who were not only much kinder, but so compassionate and understanding. The news broke that I couldn’t have surgery and would have to isolate for ten days until I was cleared. They held my hand as I cried.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Throughout the day we realized not only had I lost feeling in my foot and leg, but I could no longer feel my bladder or bowels and was at risk for rupture or other complications. I was on multiple pain killers and steroids so I was able to sit up to about 25-30 degrees in the bed for short periods of time. I pushed my way through the new PT moves, still barely able to tolerate the pain enough to function. Even on all those pain meds, it was still so incredibly severe.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Without God and the prayerful love of family and friends and the nursing staff, I do not think I would have emotionally or mentally survived. I could have no visitors. The staff rarely came in, because I wasn’t actively sick, so I didn’t need anything except meds, food, and to be helped to the bathroom. I fought with infectious disease and made phone calls to the CDC and DOH to try to get another covid test and cleared for surgery. I was allowed another covid test after begging, and that came back negative. The CDC told me it was DOH’s prerogative how to handle it, and DOH said that if I had two negatives I could be considered clear. They wouldn’t test me a third time, even after I argued with infectious disease. I was defeated. I was on so many painkillers. I gave up on myself making decisions and allowed my sister to be the one to do so. She also fought long and hard for me, for days, trying to get me cleared for surgery. We did not win. They offered that I could go home and isolate if I didn’t want to stay in the hospital, but we argued that I could not do that as I could not complete any simple daily tasks on my own, and if I had covid and they didn’t want to be exposed to me, I shouldn’t be “forced upon” others who could catch it from me either. They offered to send me to a nursing home. Thank goodness my sister was in charge, because in my defeated haze, I agreed.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was my darkest point in years, if not maybe ever. It was such a dark, somber room, surrounded by noises from other covid patient rooms and the talk of nurses outside. It was incredibly lonely. I tried my best to remain positive and joked with staff that would come and go, and tried not to complain or make their days harder. They all seemed surprised by my faith and my smile and laughter, and I quite frankly told them that if they ever came in and I could not do either of those things they needed to be seriously concerned for my mental health. They did so good on holding to that promise, making sure I was hanging on in every facet possible, as best as I could. I felt like the hospital system was failing me, but my nurses most certainly weren’t. God had definitely placed them there.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">God gave me my church family to help me through as well. There were many prayers and messages from them and one particular night, my pastor, Brent, sang a song to me that was a message from God. I listened to it over and over for the remaining days, and even in the weeks after I was released from the hospital. My friends and family provided the same support. I received some flowers and gifts dropped off to help me pass the time, as well as a few good lattes. I had perfectly timed messages of worship songs sent to me multiple times, and I listened and let those be prayers over me repeatedly. There was not a lot that anyone could do, but these things were huge.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Some of the nurses even commented that God had placed me there for them as well. It was one of the things I held dearly in my heart as I continued to live the nightmare for days on end.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Finally, on February 10, I was cleared of isolation and prepped for surgery. Another of my best friends came that day to be with me and pray while the procedure was going on, and to keep my dear ones informed. She was the first familiar face I had seen in almost two weeks, and it was a huge breath of fresh, promising air.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I told her how scared I was that I wouldn’t see my children again. I did not really believe I was going to die, I admitted, but that fear was there, knowing it was a possibility. I was anxious about potential complications, or that it wouldn’t solve the issues anyway. She prayed over me in the hallway outside the operating room, and then I closed my eyes and it seems to be the last thing I remember.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">While I was in between surgery and being awake afterward, in an anesthesia haze, I had this vision. It was a spinal column, and the lamina were in rainbow formation. I felt that God was telling me I would one day walk on my own again, without pain. It was His promise- just like the rainbow centuries ago was His promise. I woke up with hope.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I do not remember much of anything else that day, except seeing my friend’s face again, and being so thankful and relieved.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The next day, I sat in a chair, upright, for breakfast. It was only a few minutes, but it was the first time in over two weeks I was able to sit up past 30 degrees without crying or yelling or trembling in pain. I knew God would fulfill His promise. I had another of my dearest friends visit me that night, and seeing her lit up the hope inside of me even further. I broke into tears as she told me she had seen my kiddos at the daycare where we worked and they were smiling and happy that I was okay. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The next day, my sister, who had fought so valiantly on my behalf came. She stayed for such a long time, watching me as I learned to walk all over again.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When I was finally discharged a day or two later, I went to her home to heal. I stayed there for weeks as I continued physical therapy and learning to walk, do stairs, sit, and other things, all over again.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was so incredibly blessed during the nightmare I was living through, by so many people. I know there are even more people praying over me than I consciously know about, and so many other ways we were blessed- people caring for my children, getting them to and from school and daycare, praying over me, sending me flowers, and so much more. I knew the entire time, that even though I felt lonelier than I ever had before, we were most definitely not alone.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It’s a year later. I have regained a little sensation back in my left foot and slightly more in the inside of my calf. I have not noticed any progress in that area in many months, but I believe it can still happen. If it doesn’t I have went through months of physical therapy and can do everything I could before, even if it’s a little clumsy, or I can’t do as well or as long as I used to. I still have pain during some tasks or body positions, but it is in no way like the pain I had during the ordeal. During surgery, they not only removed lamina from l4/L5, bone spurs, part of disc and ligament, but they also found calcification that was pressing on my spinal cord internally in addition to the spinal stenosis, and it was speculated that the inflammation from six weeks of fighting off covid fevers the first time could have dislodged that calcification, which could have been the cause for the neuropathy I had suffered from since having covid that first time. That pain has not returned since surgery! So, while I am not pain free, I still believe God is fulfilling that promise that I will walk on my own (which I am again) pain free. It took me months, but I was finally able to return part time and with some restriction to the job I have loved for seven years. I know I'll continue to gain the strength and stamina to be there full time again. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A few months after this nightmare took place, knowing I was going to find a counselor to help me process through the countless layers of trauma, I decided to get a tattoo to commemorate my journey. I went with this design. The rainbow symbolizes God’s promise to me. The guitar is symbolic of worship and praise carrying me through. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">For the most part, I’m doing really well, having processed through most of the trauma. Sometimes, things still trigger me or catch me off guard. I have cried about the journey multiple times since coming home, and I know I will continue to heal physically, emotionally, and mentally for quite some time. I have bad days where I’m frustrated by physical limitations or restrictions, but I have become much better at reminding myself of how far I’ve come. I tell myself I had to learn to sit again, walk again, and so many other things… again. I did those hard things. God walked alongside me and carried me through when there was nothing I could do but cry. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So, one year later, I can again say, even through this, God is good.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEig8_KiNv2OGhQLJU6fJGK76QycTHmiyR98HfDbVMc4A0Ih_YPoiNN_s63hvrd1coL7YnZ1H-tuUimG2WrONeSSQ8bZnnP9fdtNEITCg5pxU3gaRLJ-h2seI1CLlSMOfDavhNvHdU8DEJOnNbXVvfb8jm7k36p8Kl1qK0OKU_gOeX8tMHycUnCbSHj1=s2448" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="2448" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEig8_KiNv2OGhQLJU6fJGK76QycTHmiyR98HfDbVMc4A0Ih_YPoiNN_s63hvrd1coL7YnZ1H-tuUimG2WrONeSSQ8bZnnP9fdtNEITCg5pxU3gaRLJ-h2seI1CLlSMOfDavhNvHdU8DEJOnNbXVvfb8jm7k36p8Kl1qK0OKU_gOeX8tMHycUnCbSHj1=w400-h400" width="400" /></a></div><p></p>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07377902459097589452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5232323392621743480.post-65482492955258144262021-12-24T21:44:00.001-06:002021-12-24T21:44:09.053-06:00Relating to the Christmas Story<p> A couple of weeks ago, my pastor asked me if I would be willing to light the Christ candle at Christmas Eve church, read a verse, and <i>maybe even</i> read something that I might write. I said yes before I could talk myself out of it, which I knew I would do in a short amount of time if I was given the opportunity. You see, I am not really fond of speaking in front of groups of people, and even though I know almost everyone in my church family, standing up front and talking in front of all of them… is unappealing. I would much rather write something and just leave it for others to read on their own.</p><p>So, naturally (haha), I said yes.</p><p>I decided my best approach was to pray about what to write, which I did, and then (im)patiently waited for an idea to flow. A few days passed before late one night, when I couldn’t sleep due to pain, an idea sparked into sentences and I text myself the very beginning of a rough draft.</p><p>I worked on it a bit the next day, and then got distracted.</p><p>So, I waited a few more days, and then let the remaining words flow through my fingers, onto the keyboard, to be printed onto my screen.</p><p>It was a bit lengthy, but the idea behind it was genuine, and it seemed to be the only thing I could think of to write about.</p><p>Fast forward to this afternoon, I was preparing for church, and trying to print out the two pages I had developed, and for the first time since buying it, my printer decided it was going to give me issues. First, it was low on ink. Then, I couldn’t get the ink cartridge area open. So, I googled the issue, switched the ink out, and then wouldn’t you know it… there was a paper jam. I couldn’t find a paper inside the printer ANYWHERE, so I decided to try and print again. I printed, but it looked like someone had taken the top half of all the letters and slid them to the left about a centimeter, and it was incredibly difficult to decipher, even though I knew what it said. I tried again, and it printed a little more clearly, but still not in a way I was comfortable trying to read from. Suddenly, the jammed piece of paper popped out, so I figured I was good to go. I was wrong. I wasted 12 more pages of printed text that looked like I was trying to read through someone else’s glasses, or those drunk goggles you used in high school learning about drinking and driving. It was terrible! It was also a half an hour until church started. I tried one more time, and finally, a version that was mostly legible popped out, and I gave up so we could go.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhme2qPvh3xNJOMd_QZFlT2IY5z9Sw50DFqzVnF8igLmjnXkGE6ndY2nRlU7d03tWzdteeR1VTV4gTEpIyVclNGIW-7k_eIYZseo3R_HuQNioD4R2jb83fggD6BbD7ZMrUeKBOSFe0YHf2h4khBf7RAxfrJnwdgOQDUbMWzEpfDVAB1mZqM8Fbnc5qw=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhme2qPvh3xNJOMd_QZFlT2IY5z9Sw50DFqzVnF8igLmjnXkGE6ndY2nRlU7d03tWzdteeR1VTV4gTEpIyVclNGIW-7k_eIYZseo3R_HuQNioD4R2jb83fggD6BbD7ZMrUeKBOSFe0YHf2h4khBf7RAxfrJnwdgOQDUbMWzEpfDVAB1mZqM8Fbnc5qw=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Tonight, I stood in front of our church, recorded and broadcasted live over the internet (so nerve-wracking), lit the Christ candle after only two clicks of the silly lighter (I hate those things), read Luke 1:14, and then my 3 minute piece. I’m sure my voice trembled and my daughter said I looked nervous, but I was nervous, so I’m not surprised. My children all said I did a good job, and the message was good.</p><p>After I left church tonight, I decided that maybe I should share the rough, unedited, longer version on my blog, in case there is someone out there who needs to read it, for whatever reason. So, without further adieu, here is the long, first draft of how the Christmas Story spoke to me this year, and became more relatable than ever before.</p><p><br /></p><p>——-</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhnEKCWlEyLNFhO4RSr3Ix-60E26FMzp_Ls05pfzya0QLsCh-dwl263vzHihYzqbBtweyIurtEG2sxA4EvOr24u86wjkDhL0RrpWgAVbg2wiKabBqpf3nzU-SX8t3V_wIeM5p6mJLo3CkjKOsXxYOSUg4bWp_N8bRgtbe7K_IPP2AHC8xs-2Ww5vIz-=s2000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="2000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhnEKCWlEyLNFhO4RSr3Ix-60E26FMzp_Ls05pfzya0QLsCh-dwl263vzHihYzqbBtweyIurtEG2sxA4EvOr24u86wjkDhL0RrpWgAVbg2wiKabBqpf3nzU-SX8t3V_wIeM5p6mJLo3CkjKOsXxYOSUg4bWp_N8bRgtbe7K_IPP2AHC8xs-2Ww5vIz-=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><br /><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">In the hustle and bustle, mingle and jingle of the holiday season, I find myself captivated by the sounds, the sights, the flavors and scents that evoke emotions and memories of Christmases past, and rejuvenate anticipation of Christmases coming. I can be overtaken by the sparkle and the joy in the atmosphere, the smiles and friendly warmth of many you come across, but also the very real truth of heartache for others, activating my empathy and compassion just a little bit more.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">It’s easy to get caught up in the here and now of the Christmas season, or to reminisce on both good and bad memories of the Christmases we have already been through. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It’s so easy to buy the gifts, to sing the songs, watch those movies, to decorate the trees and homes, send the cards, fill those red buckets, recreate your family traditions, and say “Merry Christmas” to those who cross your path.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">It’s so easy to forget to see the days blitz by without reflecting deeply on the true meaning of Christmas, until Christmas Eve church, a lot of times. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We know both in our hearts and our minds what the real meaning of Christmas is, but it’s just so easy to get caught up in the festivity of it all.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">For many, myself included at times, even knowing the meaning of Christmas, the Christmas story seems like it’s so far removed from our modern day life, that it’s just a beautiful, true story that reminds us that Jesus is the reason for the season, and that God so loved us that he gave Jesus to us as the best Christmas gift ever. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">This year, life circumstances have slowed me down, yet again, and I have had ample time to sit and reflect just a little bit more on what Christmas means. </span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1"><br />This year, I have spent hours creating decorations with scenes from the Christmas story, the manger, the angels, the wise men, the shepherds, and as I’ve sat with Christmas in my heart, I’ve come to find that the Christmas story is much more relatable than I ever realized before.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">As I sat in silence, painting the starry night sky, I began to see the myself in the parts of the Christmas story. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I wonder if you can see yourselves scattered throughout the story, too.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">In a way, I feel like we are all a little bit like Mary, believing in God, waiting for him to speak to us- to give us a sign, a word, a plan. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Sometimes, he surprises us, and shows up in a way we never imagined, asking us to things we never saw ourselves doing. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And like Mary, we sometimes say yes. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We invite him within us to fulfill this plan he has spoken over us, and in doing so, we birth Light and Love into this world to change it for the better. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We may not always know what we have gotten ourselves into, but we trust that he will guide us, just like he guided her all those centuries ago.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">In a way, we are all a little bit like Joseph. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Sometimes, we make plans, and we end up blindsided by the way things end up panning out. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We occasionally get thrown a curveball that sends us well out of our comfort zones, and on a long, arduous journey where we feel out of control. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Sometimes, there’s panic and frustrating urgency, trying to get everything lined up according to our own plan, searching for comfort and security and a place we see fit for whatever is coming next, all while trying to meet a deadline. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We run into doors being shut right in front of us and other obstacles on our journey. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We find that we must relinquish control and just let God lead us on our way. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He has a destination and an outcome in mind and it may be beyond anything we’ve ever seen coming. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">We are all like the shepherds. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The shepherds, who at the time of the Savior’s birth, were minding their own business, off in the hillside, on a quiet, peaceful night. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They were undoubtedly disheveled, likely smelly, and probably socially awkward outcasts, just doing the one thing they did best to provide in this world. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There they were, just doing their own thing. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And suddenly an angel appeared to them. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>While we may not have knowingly seen angels in our lifetimes, we, like the shepherds, have heard joyous heavenly messages that have completely shattered the mundane moments we find ourselves in, and change the course of our lives. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Or, at least, I hope that we have, or will, at some point. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This is also a clear demonstration that God doesn’t see us for our rank or notoriety, and he is willing, able, and excited to bring his message to even the outcasts, the lower society, the “nobodies” of the world. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I believe at some point, we have probably all seen ourselves as a nobody, but how amazing is it that when we peer into the Christmas story, we can see that even THEN, God is excited to speak to us. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Like the shepherds, those words from Abba spark joy inside of us, and should lead us to shout from the mountains, the valleys, or plateaus of our lives the good news of Jesus in our world.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">We are like the angels as well, in some ways. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It is in our love and admiration for our Father in heaven that we sing, we exhale, we praise Him. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Our worship and praise rings out to those around us, breaking up the darkness with a divine splendor, echoing in hearts all around. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Like the angels, we live to spread the news, share the promises of heaven, and inspire the lives of those around us. In some instances, we may even be like Gabriel, in that we have heard a specific message from the Father, and through his voice and urging, we are able to tell others that God has something unique and wonderful in store for them if they choose to say yes! <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Yes, like the angels, we can hear our Father’s voice.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">We are all like the wise men, (and even that fictitious little drummer boy). <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>While we all come from different backgrounds, upbringings, families, and economic standpoints, just like these people, because we love and revere Jesus, we long to bring gifts. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We shower him with these gifts, whatever they may be. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>For some, their gift is song, like the legend of the drummer boy. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>For others, their gift is more tangible, like that of the wise men. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Each of us has our own unique giftings, and Jesus loves when we use those gifts to honor Him. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In honoring Jesus with our gifts, we are also blessing others. If you think about it, in the Christmas story, the gifts that were brought were for baby Jesus, but he was not the only person there who could benefit or be impacted by them. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The scents and splendor of spices would carry through the air to anyone in the babe’s vicinity. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The sparkle of gold would bring beauty to the atmosphere. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A song of love and worship catches in the hearts of others and brings radiance and joy to their spirits as well. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">Perhaps most importantly, God calls us to be like Jesus, who entered the world, hungered, grew, and learned as we do. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He entered the world the same way we all did, hungered as we do, grew, learned, walked, and lived alongside others, just as we do. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>His miraculous entrance to the world as a mere human baby led showed us how to live and love as God calls us to. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We are one with the Father, just like Jesus. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We were born at the perfect time, for a perfect plan, just as Jesus. </span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 20.3px;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1">Each of these characters is integral to the Christmas story. I hope, like me, with a bit of pause, you can see the Christmas story is not only one of the first Christmas, but a relatable representation of where we’ve been with Jesus, where we are now, and the places we will continue to go on our journey with Papa God.</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">——-</p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 17px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Merry Christmas, everyone!</p><p><br /></p>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07377902459097589452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5232323392621743480.post-87395320327022087822021-10-31T19:19:00.001-05:002021-10-31T19:54:40.311-05:00Elevensies<p> Dearest Boy of Mine,</p><p>Tomorrow is my anniversary. It’s my anniversary of motherhood. I joked with you tonight about how I should get a present every year on November 1, because it’s my big day- the day I became a mom. You and your siblings laughed and told me “NO!”</p><p>The joke in it is the reality that I don’t need a gift- my gift is you. You were the child I prayed so fervently for, the baby I dreamed of, the baby I longed for from the depths of my soul from the time I was a teenager, at least. You were the baby I fought against my own body to create and grow, and you were the miracle that God gave me back in 2010.</p><p>Spencer, you are becoming such a wonderful young man. It baffles my mind that you have been in my physical presence for eleven years now, because it does not seem possible that we have had that many days together on this earth. It sounds like such a long, long time, but it feels like a fraction of a second simultaneously. </p><p>I think you’ve grown six inches in the last year, because when you stand beside me, it feels like you’re almost my height. I know there’s only six more inches to go before you surpass me, and I’m a little afraid that will happen by the time your birthday rolls back around next year. One thing I love about you is that even though you’ve grown so much, your bright blue eyes have remained the same. I always thought they would fade away into some other color, but they’ve stayed the same eyes as they were when you were a baby, which means when I look into them, it feels like home and it’s possibly the most familiar and constant love I have ever found on this earth.</p><p>As is often the case during the pre-teen years, I know you’re still searching to figure out who you are deep inside and to see your place in this great big world. I know all too well the ways you may feel awkward or peculiar, or an outsider in your own surroundings. I promise you it will not always feel that way. I also promise you that you are so much stronger, smarter, braver, kinder, wiser, and compassionate that you give yourself credit for. </p><p> I wish you could see yourself through the eyes of the many people who love you dearly and strive to build you up. The way your teacher proclaims your brilliant intellect, creativity, wit, and skills brings me such pride and joy. Your musical abilities are magnificent, as you continue to learn two different instruments, while having great vocal capabilities in both singing, and even more surprising and new- beat boxing. Watching you freestyle beat box with our pastor was one of the highlights in this year’s memory lane reel, that’s for sure. I love your sharp sense of humor and hearing you laugh hysterically when something hits you just right. Your collection of trivial knowledge is astounding and interesting to me all at the same time, and I surely see myself in you when you drop a random fact about a random subject at a random time.</p><p>I find an overwhelming sense of pride when you will drop whatever you are doing to help someone in need, whether it is running across the blacktop at school when you notice some random student drops their papers in the wind, or the way your hand flew up in the air at the call to sponsor a child overseas at the concert we went to a week ago. You offer a helping had, an extra dollar, a hug, a snack, and so many more things when you see a need and know you can meet a need. It’s one of the most beautiful things about your soul.</p><p>I know we’ve had our share of struggles again this year, as we do any year, but I love that it doesn’t keep us from having a great relationship overall. Sometimes, let’s be honest, you’re a little moody with me or I’m a little too uncool for you, but that’s okay. It’s all part of the journey. Sometimes, I’m also a little too crabby for you, and it’s understandable that there’s friction sometimes. It’s normal that we disagree on things like technology usage or privileges, and I know you think I’m too strict when I adhere to rules and consequences, but it all resolves back down to the fact that no matter what, we know we have each other, and our love is strong. Some days it’s hard. Other days it’s so easy and carefree. I’m thankful for each day, no matter what it brings, tears or laughter, no matter what. Do not forget it, and do not let me forget it, either.</p><p>I am so sorry that there are things that have happened this year that have caused you fear, anxiety, worry, or pain, especially at the beginning of the year on that day you begged me to see a doctor because I couldn’t stand or walk without crying or screaming out in pain. Then I was just gone, and you didn’t know if or when you’d see me at home again, and it was another way you were afraid that I would die, like Covid the year before. I know that it was a trying time for everyone in our lives, but that as the oldest child in the family, you felt a unique and special burden, while I was gone, and again while we were reunited at home and I was (and still am) healing. I know. I promise you, I understand, and I’m sorry that in some ways you may have felt cheated out of the carefree joy and freedom of childhood. I CAN promise you that even through it all, good things have come and will continue to blossom within you because of the unique circumstances and trials you have faced in your life. I can guarantee more and new trials will find their way into your life, but I pray that you’ll always have your firm foundation in faith, followed by family and love, to see you through. </p><p>I pray continually that you’ll always know you are treasured, loved, and wanted, not only by your Abba God, but by your mother, father, siblings, family, and friends. I know that you perceive your value to be less than some days, but I promise you, you’re worth more than all the gold in the world to many in this life. I pray that you are able to hear God’s voice and feel the Spirit guiding you toward goodness and truth, and your are able to grasp his mercy and grace and to share those things with your own self like you do to others. I pray that you are able to begin to clearly see your intellectual and creative magnificence, and that you embrace those aspects about yourself. There are so many great things ahead for you, and while I would love for you to stay this young just a little bit longer, I am quite excited to see your story continuing to unfold.</p><p>Thank you for being such a loving son and brother to your siblings, grandson, nephew, cousin, and friend to those around you. You really, truly, are a treasure to us all.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-J1gxSFfXPWI/YX8yN_J5jPI/AAAAAAAAO70/kIthluV2RNUUVR_HEJTrhMq1hgt1xK1VQCLcBGAsYHQ/s4000/IMG_20211001_150449725_PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-J1gxSFfXPWI/YX8yN_J5jPI/AAAAAAAAO70/kIthluV2RNUUVR_HEJTrhMq1hgt1xK1VQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_20211001_150449725_PORTRAIT.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Happy 11th Birthday, Spencer. Thank you for being my gift, for making me a mommy, and for helping me figure out how to continue growing as I go down the road of motherhood, one day at a time. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Love you always,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Mom (not Bruh)</div><br /><p></p>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07377902459097589452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5232323392621743480.post-79992302853065787812021-08-31T19:47:00.002-05:002021-08-31T19:48:04.378-05:00One Shy of a Decade<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Sy9RRMAXAwg/YS7NecP-V1I/AAAAAAAAMmU/H7yvMmFFtLouYk0vIy48y-nGjIk4NV2zgCLcBGAsYHQ/s4000/IMG_20210831_191234778_PORTRAIT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Sy9RRMAXAwg/YS7NecP-V1I/AAAAAAAAMmU/H7yvMmFFtLouYk0vIy48y-nGjIk4NV2zgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_20210831_191234778_PORTRAIT.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p>Dearest Collin,</p><p><br /></p><p>Today, you learned what a decade is. You love learning random facts, and were very excited to know that it means ten years, and that after tomorrow, you only have one more year until you are a decade old. </p><p><br /></p><p>Only one. </p><p><br /></p><p>That sounds so long to you. To me, it's such a brief moment. </p><p><br /></p><p>Tomorrow morning, in the early hours, you will become nine years old. </p><p><br /></p><p>I do not know where the time has gone. </p><p><br /></p><p>This has been yet another whirlwind of a year, filled with many trials and obstacles, as a family and individually for you as well. I feel like I've been living in a weird, timeless daze for 18 months, and my mind just cannot comprehend that another year of your life has passed us by. Quite honestly, I feel a little bit robbed, but I will try hard not to dwell on that. </p><p><br /></p><p> While in this timeless bubble I seem to have found myself in, I was blessed to have extra time with you and your siblings. Our world had to drastically slow down for quite some time, and although we spent a lot of time doing little, we invested a great amount of time being with one another. Sometimes, especially when feeling robbed of years together, that is a great blessing even when it's frustrating. I know that you all spent many days tripping over each other, lacking enough personal space, and being bored at home, but somehow, we all came out of it happier and stronger. It had been years since I had seen you and your brother play together as long and as well as you did this year. It had been years since you and your sister played so harmoniously, laughed so hard, and made so many messes together. It had been quite a while since I had received so many snuggles. So, even amongst all of the pain and loss that occurs with stressful times, I am so grateful. </p><p><br /></p><p>The end of last year in school was difficult, you were overwhelmed, and I wasn't sure how to help you. One day, something just clicked, and God lined up miracles to get everything lined up for you to have a more successful year this year. It's only been four days, but in those four days, the school staff and I have seen such a beautiful flourishing of your academic spirit, patience, persistence, and joy. </p><p><br /></p><p>I am so proud of you for pressing onward, even when it's hard and you are so very down on yourself, and growing stronger in the process. I am very excited to see the potential for the year ahead to be one of the best ever. </p><p><br /></p><p>Ollie Bear, I am so grateful for you- for your constant, undeniable (even when you're mad) love, your hugs, your snuggles, your goofy jokes and beautiful laugh. I find delight in the twinkle of your "Van Gogh Hazel" eyes that look like a glorious painting. I love that I have found myself understanding the complexity of your mind even more deeply, and loving you even more fiercely in the process. The world is a better place with a mind like yours in it, I promise. </p><p><br /></p><p>I am proud of the protector spirit inside of you, you, sometimes to a fault, will stand up against those who try to bring down those you cherish. I love that you care about the littlest ones and the "least of these" in this life. Your spirit is so fierce sometimes that I have to temper you down, but the passion and love that drives you is incredible and it's something I hope you never lose.</p><p><br /></p><p>I love watching your imagination fire in your play. I love that you still love dinosaurs and know so much about them. I love that you love to share knowledge.</p><p><br /></p><p>This year, I pray that your confidence grows. I pray that you realize you hear Jesus, maybe not audibly, but in your heart, and even over the noise in the "race car brain" that's always running inside of you. I pray you continue to find restrain and self control, patience, and resilience. I pray that you are able to hold fast to the truths and good things that make you who you are, and let negativity and lies crumble to the floor. I pray you never lose your curiosity and find exciting ways to keep learning things. I pray for another year of your snuggles and we can hold onto your "little big" side just a little bit longer. I pray that your relationships with others blossom and form strong roots. I pray that this is your best year yet. </p><p><br /></p><p>I hope that you forget about that "wasssuuuuuup" commerical we saw at the baseball game with your grandpa, and stop scaring me with that greeting when it's quiet and I'm focused. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vnhUy4ggbBY/YS7NnDGq1eI/AAAAAAAAMmY/krm4KSgClRQL16Se-D_TSK5KXdBr8D3QwCPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210831_191258531_PORTRAIT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vnhUy4ggbBY/YS7NnDGq1eI/AAAAAAAAMmY/krm4KSgClRQL16Se-D_TSK5KXdBr8D3QwCPcBGAsYHg/s320/IMG_20210831_191258531_PORTRAIT.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>I love you, little bird. I'm so glad that you're mine. </p><p><br /></p><p>Always,</p><p>Momm-o</p>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07377902459097589452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5232323392621743480.post-37446630870113567202021-04-14T19:50:00.002-05:002021-04-14T19:53:55.736-05:00Little Miss Seven<p> Darling Norah,</p><p>You told me this morning that you can’t believe tomorrow is your birthday. Honestly, I’m finding it hard to believe it as well. This past year certainly pulled us all through the wringer, and while we’ve joked about it not “counting,” it most certainly does.</p><p>A year ago, as you reminisced today, I was “so super sick” and we “were stuck all by ourselves,” but it was also such a blessed birthday. Countless people sent or dropped off treats, balloons, and gifts, and your eyes sparkled with such joy.</p><p>This past year has helped sculpt us all, and one of the ways it affected you was helping you to be even more cognizant of the little joys and small victories in long, trying, isolating days. There have been so many times you have pointed out to me the ways that things are good or better, and it’s such a refreshing lens to look through. I love seeing those moments through the lens of your vision.</p><p>This year has also brought out some of the most generous and caring attributes of your personality and really let those facets shine. I remember the excitement at Christmas as we walked through a store where you chose gifts for a little girl across town that we didn’t know, with such a twinkle in your eye. You could not wait to surprise her with blessings to help make “her Christmas amazing.” You secretly mailed money to some of your favorite people, “just to be nice” and “to do a good thing.” When I told you about the groceries we were planning to bless someone with, you came up with an entire additional list of things that they needed, because kids need treats sometimes, even if it includes six flavors of Jell-O. You make me so proud. When we made tie blankets with the women’s group at church last fall, you loved it so much and were so inspired that you asked if we could “make a bunch” to donate ourselves. With the help of family and friends supplying so fleece, we ended up making a stack of blankets that was taller than you. You blow me away.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zJJnlNtZKp4/YHeN3XaAGBI/AAAAAAAAHe0/3pbtQCpH0ocHuyj5k9aOyk8gJPNu4FIiACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/0B1B4A64-4ED6-4629-95CA-460988370FD6.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1448" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zJJnlNtZKp4/YHeN3XaAGBI/AAAAAAAAHe0/3pbtQCpH0ocHuyj5k9aOyk8gJPNu4FIiACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/0B1B4A64-4ED6-4629-95CA-460988370FD6.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>You’ve made sure to remind me through the year how great it is that I’m here. I know you and your brothers spent a long time worrying about me during various scary health struggles, and you are always cognizant of the fact that things could have turned out very differently. You admit that the times made you sad, but you are more aware of the fact that things are okay, and that you’re just happy that things turned around. Your optimism is inspiring on days I struggle to be that way myself. You’ve stepped up and been so incredibly helpful during my recovery, even though I know it occasionally irritates you to “have to be helping,” and I am incredibly grateful for you and your brothers during this challenge, because I know it’s hard on all of us, but you have all been quite gracious and patient in the situation.</p><p>Sure, over the year you’ve also gained a little extra sass, spice and spunk, and maybe a few decibels in your volume register, but you’ve also gained such resilience and intelligent along the way. I’ve loved watching you really blossom in reading, and seeing you bounce back up quickly and determined when things don’t quite go your way. </p><p>There’s been a lot of inconsistencies and change through the year, and you, my dear little lady, have shown such strength. I know that your strength will continue to grow, and that you have such amazing things in store for you. I cannot wait to see you take on the world, although, I wouldn’t mind if you slowed down just a little bit, and we can enjoy these younger years before they vanish with the wind. You and your brothers are all growing up way more quickly than I would like, and my heart aches a little bit looking at how the years have gone by so swiftly. The days may be long, but the years are short- or something like that. I’ve been told that so many times, and this year, it’s proven more accurate than almost any year before it.</p><p>I have loved watching your creativity bloom as well. Sure, you make a lot of little messes (and some giant ones, but who am I to judge because I make crafting messes too) and I feel like I’ll forever be finding scraps of paper, sequins, clumps of yarn, or bits of vinyl everywhere, but it excites me to no end to know that you seem to follow in my footsteps creatively, and although I will likely never run out of tiny little “notebooks,” it is absolutely wonderful to see the things made by your pretty little hands.</p><p>I love hearing you worship. More often than not, the songs that come through your voice while we are sitting at home or driving in the van are worship songs, and it makes my heart soar. It makes me giggle when the boys want to listen to Kids Bop, and you beg to change it to a worship station. When I look over and see you singing in church, it nearly takes my breath away. One of the most powerful moments that helped get me through my hospital stay was watching you sing and dance to worship songs in your dad’s basement. It lifted my spirits so greatly and brought me enough peace to rest a while. It was such a great gift that you didn’t even know you were giving me.</p><p>Another thing I’ve absolutely loved watching bloom is your relationships with your little girl cousins. They all have such joy in their eyes when they see you, and you are so patient and understanding with them, but also so incredibly excited when spending time with them. It’s so beautiful to me to watch those relationships form, because my cousins were also some of my very first and closest friends going up, and although there’s a few years in between me and my cousins, and a few years in between you and your cousins, I see the foundation for those lifelong friendships forming, and it blesses my heart immeasurably to watch you all flourish as you do.</p><p>The past year was filled with a lot of “missing out on” and “missing people” and I’m so sorry that life played out that way, but I am thankful for the many hours and days we all were able to spend together, even if sometimes it stressed us out. I am also so grateful that things are turning around this year, and more typical things are beginning to occur, and we can get back to some of the old traditions and joys that we have longed for over the months. </p><p>I am so thankful that this year, you can walk outside our doors and be greeted by many who love and care for you. I’ll miss seeing your delight all day long as you are celebrated and cherished at school, but I’m so very happy that I get to share you with the world again. You are a ray of sunshine in many people’s cloudy days.</p><p>Norah, I pray that this year you continue to flourish outside these walls, but also within them. I know God is moving in your heart, and I pray that you can continue to overflow to those around you, and it magnifies greatly. I pray you continue to have courage and tenacity in all situations, and that you really can feel how invaluable you are in this world. I pray you always not only feel beautiful, but know in your mind that you’re beautiful inside and out. I pray that you have confidence in who you are in all situations. I pray that you always take the honest road, and keep truth at the forefront- I know that is something that is hard in a world like ours, but I know you have the strength to do so. I pray that you touch the hearts of others and continue to show kindness and compassion. I pray your heart never hardens toward those around you. I pray you know how very loved you are. I pray that you can continue to change the world around you, and that the world around you does not change who you are inside.</p><p>I am so proud of you, little lady. </p><p><br /></p><p>I can’t believe you’re going to be seven in the morning.</p><p>You think you love me most, but it just can’t be true. No one on (other than God, as you point out frequently) can love any one more than I love the three of you. I know, we debate this at least once a night. I love that about you, too.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vvFxwtuJuZc/YHeM-FJDX8I/AAAAAAAAHes/A3WVg4s667Q0NqQfl2xY2cursqKX0nv-gCLcBGAsYHQ/s1227/79F5CEDC-D8D6-42FF-9710-3D0E35632F99.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1227" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vvFxwtuJuZc/YHeM-FJDX8I/AAAAAAAAHes/A3WVg4s667Q0NqQfl2xY2cursqKX0nv-gCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/79F5CEDC-D8D6-42FF-9710-3D0E35632F99.png" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Love, Mom</p>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07377902459097589452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5232323392621743480.post-84227596383878692192020-12-25T22:12:00.008-06:002020-12-25T22:37:06.245-06:00That Christmas changed me.<p>One year ago, on Christmas Eve, I was asked to open up the Christmas Eve service at my church. I surprised myself by saying yes without thinking about it, and even more so by following through and speaking in front of a large crowd of my church family.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-izW8LJ58TmA/X-avGXmMJ8I/AAAAAAAAHbA/P5uV73I8qIM9TMXJrJqt6Aue639fNcXEgCLcBGAsYHQ/s724/B6A8C396-649E-482B-B807-8A8C4299EB8E.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="724" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-izW8LJ58TmA/X-avGXmMJ8I/AAAAAAAAHbA/P5uV73I8qIM9TMXJrJqt6Aue639fNcXEgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/B6A8C396-649E-482B-B807-8A8C4299EB8E.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Just a few days ago, I saw a post online that reminded me of that night and what I tried to express verbally about how my approach toward the meaning of Christmas has changed over the years. Since I read the online post, I have been thinking about it again, as I do every year, but maybe just a little bit more this year than in the past few years. This year has definitely given more time for thinking about things, hasn’t it? I have been revisiting my own experience with the meaning of Christmas so frequently since then, feeling the compelling need to write it out, that I do not fully recall the details of what I read that prompted this self-reflection in the first place. <div><br /></div><div>It has been an exceptionally long week, it feels like, and I am past the brink of exhaustion, but now that my children are sound asleep and I am sitting in quiet stillness beside the lights of our Christmas tree with remnants of gift opening still scattered a few places throughout the living room, I feel compelled to try to express the thoughts of my tired mind through my fingertips before I can drift off to sleep. My spirit feels awakened and like there is so much to say, I just hope that it flows out in somewhat coherent formation.<br /><div><br /></div><div>Christmas is such a profound time of year. In the Christian faith, the meaning of Christmas centers around the arrival of God here on earth, as a tiny human baby, ready to live a life for us, to die for us, so we can live forever. It’s about true love. It’s about blessing. It’s about giving. It’s about family. It’s about all of these monumental, incredible, overwhelmingly good things.</div><div><br /></div><div>It’s also about sacrifice. It’s about saying yes to the most encompassing love you can feel, birthing a true miracle, knowing that it is a gift for you, but knowing it is to be given as a gift for all of mankind, for all of your life, and for all of eternity.</div><div><br /></div><div>I can hardly fathom that, even knowing what it is about.</div><div><br /></div><div>I can remember the first time that all really penetrated my heart, though.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was a decade ago. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was a barely lit room.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was the middle of a quiet night.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was with a tiny, almost 8 week-old baby boy on my bosom, and a dog at my feet.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was a gut wrenching, tear producing moment in the middle of a cold winter’s night.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was the moment that I feel I saw what Mary saw, the night she held Jesus in her arms in that stable, half a world away from where I was, centuries before I ever walked the earth. </div><div><br /></div><div>I had my miracle son in my arms.</div><div><br /></div><div>I felt so selfishly grateful that I knew I was not in Mary’s shoes, having to sacrifice my son for the world. I wept as I imagined what her life was like. I tried to fathom what it would be like, to grow my son inside my body, and years later, have to watch my son’s body be beaten and broken, the life tortured away in front of the masses, the weight of the world’s sins upon his back as he bled and died for all of those who loved him, those who did not know to love him, those all around the world. At the same time, I realized that it was possible that, loving and living a life for Jesus could mean that some day, however unlikely it seems, my son may end up sacrificing himself for the love of others in this world. I prayed it would never happen, and I could keep him for ever and always until the end of my time. I felt relieved to know that it was never God’s plan for me to fill Mary’s shoes.</div><div><br /></div><div>However, I admired Mary. She had the most amazing strength, and I bet she did not realize how strong she was. </div><div><br /></div><div>Yet, also, I pitied Mary. She watched the most brutal and prolonged murder of her blessed baby boy and knew she had to allow it to happen.</div><div><br /></div><div>I thought about how she spent her son’s entire loving him, nurturing him, and devoting herself to him, in a way no mother had to prior nor ever will again. She knew from the moment she conceived him that he was sent for the world but her momma’s heart would have had no idea what that entailed. She knew she was going to be sacrificing her body, her heart, and her soul for her son, for all of humanity, and despite knowing the details, she said yes. She had the most incredible, willing faith.</div><div><br /></div><div>I know that Christmas is not about Mary. But I also know that thinking about Mary that Christmas changed me. </div><div><br /></div><div>Holding my own son in my arms that night brought such a deeper meaning to the gift of true love, blessed upon the world, born to save us all. I saw the true meaning of Christmas in my own baby’s eyes.</div><div><br /></div><div>I believe that processing and understanding the depth of this realization will be a lifelong process for me. Every year, I believe I understand a little bit more. It is a gift given to me by my journey through motherhood. I have heard commentary about how magical and joyful it is to experience Christmas as a child, but how much more magical and joy-filled it is to experience children living out the wonder of Christmas. I think there’s truth to that, but I definitely contend that the meaning of Christmas is what changed most for me having my children to experience Christmases alongside.</div><div><br /></div><div>Knowing that Christmas is about the true love born as a baby, given for the restoration of our eternity and relationship with our Heavenly Father is something I try to instill upon my children. I know it gets lost often in the merriment of giving and receiving of gifts, the chaos and clatter of paper and packages, the fawning and fighting that may go along with an abundance of material blessings all in one grand swoop, but I try. Knowing what I know, recalling that night a decade ago helps guide me through exciting, yet sometimes stressful holiday moments, and helps me take some quiet moments to center my heart back where it belongs, not in current circumstances where children maybe had a little too much Christmas excitement for the day and are emotionally exhausted and physically fried, but in my gratefulness for the gift only our Heavenly Father could give, and the thankfulness for that young mother, eons ago, who said yes to a calling and gifted her most treasured blessing, her miracle, for me.</div><div><br /></div><div>I pray that someday, my children are able to more fully embrace a deeper, truer meaning of Christmas. I know that they know it’s about Jesus being born for us so that he could die and bring us to God. But, perhaps, one day as an adult, they too will be able to feel the depth and profound meaning of Christmas in a child’s eyes, if they do not have that opportunity while gazing into their mother’s as children themselves.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have had my share of monumental type Christmases in a wide variety of ways, each of which had a lasting impact on my memories and emotions, shaping my life story and sculpting me into who I am.</div><div><br /></div><div>That Christmas ten years ago changed me in ways I am still discovering.</div><div><p><br /></p></div></div>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07377902459097589452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5232323392621743480.post-26850270605101666072020-12-06T20:54:00.004-06:002020-12-06T21:09:53.183-06:00NMW<p> No Matter What</p><p><br /></p><p>NMW</p><p><br /></p><p>Those are my initials. </p><p><br /></p><p>Actually, years ago, my dear cousin, my Bean, Tarah, pointed that fact out to me. She said when she saw the phrase “no matter what,” she thought of me.</p><p><br /></p><p>In church this morning, Pastor Brent Parker gave an amazing message about peace. I recommend it to anyone right now, and it’s accessible via <a href="Http://www.churchatthegate.com">Church at the Gate’s website</a>.</p><p><br /></p><p>In the midst of the message, he used the phrase “no matter what” and it latched my attention, hook, line, and sinker. I actually picked my phone up from under my chair and wrote myself a note- “NMW + Peace” is all it said.</p><p><br /></p><p>Peace, no matter what.</p><p><br /></p><p>Peace, NMW.</p><p><br /></p><p>This world has been shaken this year in countless ways. We are living through something that I believe most would think, we were completely unprepared to live through.</p><p><br /></p><p>Because of the chaos and the uncertainty we all face right now, the world as a whole is struggling. There’s upheaval and unknowns and it is unsettling for many.</p><p><br /></p><p>The world needs peace.</p><p><br /></p><p>It was a timely message, in that it’s December, it’s advent, and we are preparing for Christmas.</p><p><br /></p><p>Christmas is the celebration when none other than the Lord of Lords, the King of Kings, the Prince of Peace, inhabited the earth. He born himself among us, to walk alongside us, to show us the goodness of God.</p><p><br /></p><p>Then, he gave His life so that we could be with him, always. We are with Him now, in each and every moment, and if we allow Him to, He is with us in each of our hearts. He is our spirit and soul. </p><p><br /></p><p>The world is searching for peace right now. They’re looking for it- as a thing. </p><p><br /></p><p>And, as Brent pointed out, peace isn’t a thing.</p><p><br /></p><p>Peace is a who.</p><p><br /></p><p>That Who is right here, right now, every moment before, every moment coming up, every miniscule space of this gigantic world. Peace is all around.</p><p><br /></p><p>I know, to someone who doesn’t know the Prince of Peace yet, it all sounds silly. It sounds like something that cannot possibly be true. It sounds like something to research and try to prove as reality instead of just going all in and believing. It sounds too good to be true.</p><p><br /></p><p>But it is true.</p><p><br /></p><p>We can have Peace, NO MATTER WHAT, because Peace has us and is just waiting for us to accept Him.</p><p><br /></p><p>No matter what, NMW has Peace. While I know I have it, every moment of my life, because I have Him, I also know the reality of the situation is sometimes, it doesn’t feel like it. I’ve found that’s usually because I’ve forgotten to look for peace as a who, and have started striving again for peace as a thing. It’s easy to fall back to that, though it gets less frequent with time. </p><p><br /></p><p>I’m still learning this. It’s a lifelong journey, and the destination is not the goal, it’s the process we take to arrive there that has the most meaning. It’s what grows us the fullest and roots us the deepest. It’s what softens and expands our hearts and our minds. When we finally arrive at the destination, we will understand that much better. </p><p>Honestly, when I realized my Peace is a who, I can see CLEARLY that I've been walking this year, this lifetime, out in Peace all along- even when it didn't seem like it.</p><p>I write this not only to you, but to myself, as a reminder. This year has been incredibly difficult and I’ve spent days lacking peace as a thing. Thankfully, I’ve been blessed with a family that has been so firm but gentle, and overwhelmingly loving, when they steer me back to my Peace as a who.</p><p><br /></p><p>I pray that in this Christmas season, you can join me in preparing and accepting the Peace that’s been here all along since the figurative beginning of literal endless time. I pray striving ceases, and acceptance abounds, and from that acceptance, Love will overcome the world before our eyes.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-io_m1Iqi4Ws/X82ZUM_g_oI/AAAAAAAAHaE/0f0T0g6viSkNsd_54yMVP-RXCSV2VRGFwCLcBGAsYHQ/s984/07A0AABF-2DF7-47D6-AF25-915230E9048A.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="947" data-original-width="984" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-io_m1Iqi4Ws/X82ZUM_g_oI/AAAAAAAAHaE/0f0T0g6viSkNsd_54yMVP-RXCSV2VRGFwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/07A0AABF-2DF7-47D6-AF25-915230E9048A.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>“Our faith in Jesus transfers God’s righteousness to us and he now declares us flawless in his eyes. This means we can now enjoy TRUE and LASTING PEACE with God, all because of what our Lord Jesus, the Anointed One, has done for us.” -Romans 5:1 (TPT)</p>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07377902459097589452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5232323392621743480.post-6070051796604931362020-11-08T13:10:00.005-06:002020-11-08T21:01:39.228-06:00Let the words flow from my mind through my fingertips<p>I love to create. I love photography, painting, coloring, crafting, crocheting, singing, wood burning, and so many other random ways of seeing something come into being by the work of my mind and my hands.</p><p>I love writing. I love writing beautiful words in script, I love writing notes and letters, I love writing down my thoughts and sharing them with others when applicable. I have kept a journal or a blog of some kind for most of my life. </p><p>Last year, it was spoken over me that I would speak in front of people. I saw that come to life shortly after, giving a portion of my testimony in front of the women’s group at church, and then by opening up Christmas Eve church a couple of months later. But, as I’ve said to multiple people, I write more fluidly than I speak.</p><p>This year, it has been spoken over me that I would write more. I haven’t been sure of how that would come to fruition, but I have seen myself writing more and more, whether it is comments in online Bible study and church services, social media posts, little notes, digital artwork, or blog posts, I have been slowly seeing more words flow from my mind through my fingertips.</p><p>It’s even been spoken over me that I should or will write a book some day. Time will reveal that, I’m sure, although I cannot even begin to imagine what I would fill an entire book with.</p><p>This morning, I watched church from home once again, still recovering from the after effects of my second positive Covid test and infection at the end of September. Today, our pastor and his wife, again, spoke over me in regard to releasing writing. Then, to my surprise, the service was about creativity and how we are all crafters in our own ways. We all bring things to life.</p><p>As I sat and listened and reflected on my own personality and my love of making things, often times to bless other people, I remembered the weekend prior to getting sick again. </p><p>I attended a women’s conference at my friend’s church- the Enough Conference. This year, it was focused on being equipped and empowered, and reflected quite a bit on the pandemic we are currently living through. Multiple times, it was asked, “what are you afraid of, what’s holding you back?” The premise is that we are all living through a scary, overwhelming, unknown time in our lives, but we are surviving and overcoming it all. If we can get through these days, what is keeping us from our purposes?</p><p>I recall, that weekend, wondering what my purpose is. What am I supposed to be bringing to this world right now? If I was created for such a time as this, what am I supposed to contribute to this time? </p><p>Those questions lasted a few days, until one night, I laid in my bed, and the words “empowered” and “equipped” kept circling around in my mind.</p><p>Years ago, I wrote poetry, frequently, in my bed, in the dark, with my pen on the paper and unable to see what my script looked like until morning. I would let it fly from my fingers without criticism until I refined it in the daylight.</p><p>That night, I pulled out my phone, and with very little editing involved, I let the words glide onto my screen. </p><p>I love music, especially worship music. I sometimes think of my own testimony as a worship song, although it’s not really put to an audible melody. After I wrote these words, I thought of them as worship as well, although they too, lack an audible melody. I haven’t been sure of what I am supposed to do with these words, so they’ve been sitting in secret for almost two months. </p><p>This morning, I felt it was time to release them. I wrote this as a reminder to myself on the days and nights I wonder, questions, and struggle. I have spent many hours searching, and sometimes, I search for so long that I see right past the beautiful, simple, wholesome answers that God provides.</p><p>Perhaps you’re out there, much like I was, and have been multiple times, wondering what your purpose is in times such as these. Perhaps, you wonder who you are inside. Perhaps, you wonder what your value is in this world. These words are for you, too.</p><p>Let me assure you, you have a purpose, you are a beautiful, treasured creation, and God has a plan for you. There’s something only you can bring to this world. You too, were created for such a time as this. </p><p>I pray you know that you are cherished, important, and Loved.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W3w5pE06uUE/X6hAVybYrrI/AAAAAAAAHYY/CTMNiYHbONsybTGea-yR_HI_4BOX-6dlQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2711/4EAAA7D8-E594-41CA-801B-C2C48F3AC3EC.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1160" data-original-width="2711" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W3w5pE06uUE/X6hAVybYrrI/AAAAAAAAHYY/CTMNiYHbONsybTGea-yR_HI_4BOX-6dlQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/4EAAA7D8-E594-41CA-801B-C2C48F3AC3EC.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> You tell me that I'm a masterpiece-</p><p>A wonderful creation, I am unique,</p><p>And I know in my heart it is true,</p><p>Because I put all of my trust in You.</p><p><br /></p><p>But some days, I find myself confused.</p><p>I pray and wonder “what should be my use?”</p><p>I try to read between the lines</p><p>Of the words you write over my life.</p><p>I peel the layers off the canvas that you paint,</p><p>And inspect each imprint on this clay,</p><p>Just to see if I can figure out who I'm supposed to be.</p><p><br /></p><p>But, when I'm finally still and breathing in </p><p>Your Spirit floating like the wind,</p><p>And soak in the gentle melody </p><p>you composed for only me,</p><p>I realize it's so simple, I don't need to keep searching.</p><p><br /></p><p>I'm your beautiful, beloved one,</p><p>The sparkle in your fiery eyes,</p><p>The one you sent your son to guide </p><p>Into your safe and steady arms.</p><p>I am chosen and I am equipped,</p><p>Empowered for this time I'm living in,</p><p>And nothing I can do will change </p><p>The way you feel about</p><p>Who I am:</p><p><br /></p><p>Fearfully, wonderfully, beautifully, carefully, joyfully, perfectly made.</p><p>I am your Love.</p><p><br /></p><p>I will not live a life of fear,</p><p>Because the weapons that I need are here</p><p>Inside my heart, soul, spirit, and my mind.</p><p>The battle rages all around,</p><p>But with you the end of war is found.</p><p>Death has come knocking at my door.</p><p>I will not cower in its shadow anymore.</p><p>Your breath of life fills me to overflow...</p><p><br /></p><p>When I'm finally still and breathing in</p><p>Your spirit, floating like the wind,</p><p>And soaking in the gentle melody</p><p>You composed for only me,</p><p>I remember...</p><p><br /></p><p>I'm your beautiful, beloved one,</p><p>The sparkle in your fiery eyes</p><p>The one you sent your son to guide </p><p>Into your safe and steady arms.</p><p>I am chosen and I am equipped,</p><p>Empowered for the time I'm living in,</p><p>And nothing I can do will change</p><p>The way you feel about me,</p><p>What you see when You gaze upon me,</p><p>The person I am called to be,</p><p>Who I really am-</p><p><br /></p><p>I am your Love.</p><p>I am made to Love.</p><p>So, let me Love.</p>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07377902459097589452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5232323392621743480.post-40881601108252369902020-10-31T21:06:00.004-05:002020-10-31T21:19:25.697-05:00Our first decade together<p> Dearest Spencer,</p><p>This is it, the end of an era. Tomorrow, when you wake up, you will no longer be nine. You will be into the double digits, never to go back. Tomorrow, you will have been alive and breathing on this earth for ten full years.</p><p>That’s a decade, you know.</p><p>Tomorrow, we will have made it through our first decade together. You and I, we’ve always been a special team, you know. You made me a mommy, and we have learned this life together for 10 full years.</p><p>Ten! It’s such a huge milestone, don’t you think?</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FzkgjaggEw4/X54XaQlyjTI/AAAAAAAAHXo/3PtgRLX256Aqh_oiIlPVv2k4J1TwmyY4QCLcBGAsYHQ/s1848/88218107-E628-4469-9EDC-B41AEF934A70.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1224" data-original-width="1848" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FzkgjaggEw4/X54XaQlyjTI/AAAAAAAAHXo/3PtgRLX256Aqh_oiIlPVv2k4J1TwmyY4QCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/88218107-E628-4469-9EDC-B41AEF934A70.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>It’s so hard to wrap my mind around that number. I can see each year represented by one finger on my hand. But from here on out, that will no longer be possible. That’s so many years, buddy! We can no longer hold them on our hands.</p><p>I remember sitting in our apartment, ten years ago tonight, knowing the next morning you would be on your way into this world. I was filled with such nervous excitement. I couldn’t imagine the world with you in it. I couldn’t wait to see your face and get to know you.</p><p>You know, there were actually years when I wasn’t sure if God was ever going to allow me to be a mommy. It was a struggle to get there, but God is so good. You were the answer to that prayer I prayed so many times, and you’ve been an answer to so many prayers since then.</p><p>I could not imagine for even a moment just how incredible life would be the moment I first held you in my arms. I couldn’t imagine what it would really be like to be your mommy, and now there’s no moment I would want to ever try to imagine what it would be like if I wasn’t.</p><p>Ten years. Ten! It’s quite exciting though, don’t you think? It’s been an absolute joy watching you grow into the young man you’ve become. Yes, it’s been stressful at times, for both of us, since we are always still learning together. I am the oldest sibling in my family too, so I know how it can be sometimes. I try my hardest to get it right, but I know, because I’m human, sometimes, I get it wrong. The best part about it is that you’ve always loved me and forgiven me when I haven’t quite gotten parenthood right. You’re human too, and you get mad at me sometimes and say things that aren’t the nicest, but I know deep in your heart that you are so grateful for me. You’ve said it in so many ways, so many times, by the little notes you leave me that bring me the happiest of tears, to the way you cover me up with blankets if I fall asleep on the couch when I’m not feeling well. You show it in the way you ask the Alexa to play my favorite songs, and walk by with a smile telling me “this one’s for you, mom.” There have been more times than I can even count where you just walk by or sit next to me and tell me you love me, or that I’m the best mom in the world. When I feel like I’m failing, I look at you and your siblings and see how beautiful and strong you are, and I know that failure must not be true.</p><p>This year has been hard. I know that the trauma we have been through together, with me being so sick for so long, took it’s toll on your heart. I am aware that it was incredibly hard to watch your mom be asleep for almost days on end, or unable to walk across the room without struggling to breathe. I know how scared you were that I might not make it through a day or a night. </p><p>And, quite honestly, I’m sorry that you had to go through that. I’m sorry my body wasn’t stronger and that it was such a hard time to get through. I’m sorry for the days I was unable to be the best mother, to be a mother you truly deserved. I’m sorry for the way that it made you grow up just a little bit more, a little bit sooner than either of us would have hoped. I hope that you know that every time I’ve apologized for being grumpy or rude, that I was sincere, and it broke my heart a little each time that I was not the greatest mom that there is. </p><p>But, I tell you what- the way you have faced this journey has made me so incredibly proud. I have seen you become such a strong young man, seen the love you have for not only me, but your siblings, the way you helped make sure I was okay and they were okay. You are a wonderful big brother, yes, even if sometimes you and your siblings fight or say things you don’t mean, and you are a magnificent son. God knew what he was doing when he placed us together for this life.</p><p>I hope that you know that I love you with my entire heart. I love your siblings with my entire heart too, of course, but you had my heart first. </p><p>This year has shown me so many ways that you have become a creative and independent young man. One of my favorite memories was just a couple of weeks ago, walking along in the woods, watching you take pictures with my camera. You brought me the utmost joy watching you in your element. I love taking photographs too, but as a momma, there’s something even more special watching your child develop that interest. I hope that someday we can go on a photography journey together, just the two of us.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--eQ1oKkx5-0/X54X-XZYWdI/AAAAAAAAHXw/KL7PnxgRkuwVx92NM-wGvtJYoGuatihuACLcBGAsYHQ/s960/CB07DD2C-6179-43A9-90EE-EAF499E4B99C.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--eQ1oKkx5-0/X54X-XZYWdI/AAAAAAAAHXw/KL7PnxgRkuwVx92NM-wGvtJYoGuatihuACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/CB07DD2C-6179-43A9-90EE-EAF499E4B99C.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>I am also so proud and amazed by you and your new interest in playing the viola. I have told you before that I remember being younger and teaching myself the guitar, and being nervous to let others hear me play, so I completely understand that side of you. When you let me listen to you, my heart just swells with joy, and I see such greatness inside of you. No matter what happens, no matter how long you decide to play that music, I will hold these memories in my soul forever, and treasure them the rest of my days.</p><p>Spencer, you are such a brave, smart, funny, kind, compassionate, strong-willed young man. I know that there are struggles you have, but I know they are things you can and will work through. </p><p>I pray that in the coming year, you really begin to see, feel, and honestly believe just how great a person you are. I know that you know God holds you dear, but I hope you really, truly feel your value to Him, to your family, to your friends, and to the world. I know that it’s easy to be hard on yourself and to think negative things, and I just pray that you are able to see that those negative things that come into your mind some times are not true, and that you are in fact all of the good things I have declared just now. You can do hard things. You will do great things. You will leave this world a better place. I just know it.</p><p>I pray that as you are older, you find it in your heart to not take offense if others say or do things that affect you in a negative way. I pray that you are always quick to forgive, able to see when you may have not been the kindest or have caused offense, and quick to apologize for those situations with utmost sincerity. In a world that is full of confusion and chaos, it will get you far in life, and you will stand out among the crowd genuine and sincere. I pray that you are able to continue to see the good in others and find ways to help when someone needs it. I have seen you do this so much this year already, and I just hope that that part of you continues to strengthen. I know it’s hard to do the right thing sometimes, but I pray that you’ll hear God’s voice and feel Him help you along in those difficult situations.</p><p>I love you, Spencer. I love your hugs and snuggles, tucking you in and kissing your forehead. I hope we can hold onto them for at least another year. I hope that, despite the many bumps in the road that have gotten us to this day, that you have had a wonderful first decade with me. I hope you can look back on each year that you have memories, and see that you were loved. I hope you can see that you’ve had joy and laughter all along, despite the days of tears and heartache. I pray that the good will always outweigh the not as good memories in your mind. </p><p>I cannot wait to see what this next year brings for you. There are beautiful things on your horizon. </p><p>Thank you for the decade of love, grace, mercy, and memories.</p><p>You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I am so glad you’re mine.</p><p>I love you.</p><p>-Mom</p>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07377902459097589452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5232323392621743480.post-81475067782620058092020-10-24T21:07:00.005-05:002020-10-24T21:34:19.620-05:00The RavineYou find yourself teetering the cliff of darkness, pulled away from falling inward by focusing upward instead of down into the pit. As long as you know where to look, you will be safe.<div><br /></div><div>Sometimes, you have to remind yourself every couple of seconds to look up instead of down, and it’s an exhausting battle for your focus. It is so much easier to look downward when the weight inside your mind feels like a bushel of stones. It’s such a heavy burden to carry sometimes.</div><div><br /></div><div>You realize how close you could be to falling, as a slight falter in your footing knocks a pebble, and as you listen you cannot hear it reaching the bottom. You realize the cliff is much higher than you can comprehend and if you topple, you do not know if you will ever quit falling. </div><div><br /></div><div>Sometimes, you don’t see yourself at the cliff until you’re in that balancing act, having slowly wandered on your way, led there without necessarily realizing it until you’re already at the brink, or maybe you have been traipsing about endlessly, trying to navigate through thick and murky fog, only to realize where you’ve ended up as you are flirting with the gravity lurking before you. You know that you’re one small misstep from falling, so you try to keep your body still while your head spins around to ascertain where exactly you are in relation to where you began. </div><div><br /></div><div>How did you get there? What lured your steps this way?</div><div><br /></div><div>You look up again. You know where to look. You position yourself the slightest degree, and plant one foot firmly in front of the other. You know where you belong. You will not succumb to the ravine.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NeWyVuZJ53s/X5Td0018m1I/AAAAAAAAHXE/zddiP_gm4KgimB39HofwjY8bedkrixIPgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/01DAF7AC-9DDC-42FF-814D-EFC594D76DBD.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1047" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NeWyVuZJ53s/X5Td0018m1I/AAAAAAAAHXE/zddiP_gm4KgimB39HofwjY8bedkrixIPgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/01DAF7AC-9DDC-42FF-814D-EFC594D76DBD.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Sound familiar?</div><div><br /></div><div>When I wrote that the other night, I saw the ravine as just a dark pit of endless negative thoughts. I have experienced that ravine before and I have fallen continuously into it for days on end sometimes. I have always been able to find my way back to where I am centered and focused, thank the Lord.</div><div><br /></div><div>Admittedly, it’s been a rough year for not only myself but thousands of others. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have found in my own life experiences, mentally and emotionally, my nights can be much tougher than my days. As I lay awake, alone in the dark during those night-time trials, I can feel my spirit weighted down when my thoughts start plummeting.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have faith in God. I know He is always with me. Always. In fact, I have been blessed with visions or dreams of Him alongside me living out my day to day life. </div><div><br /></div><div>But, I am human, I am broken and made whole, but I still struggle sometimes.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lately, it seems more than I have in months or maybe even years past (and I have had quite a collection of rough years). I think a lot of it has to do with the loneliness of isolation and quarantine during a pandemic. I have spent months inside these walls with my children.</div><div><br /></div><div>While living in isolation, the first two months, I was more open and honest about my thoughts and emotions. I was more willing to talk about what I was thinking or feeling at any given moment. I was more aware that if I was becoming closed off, I should speak out. I wrote more for myself and publicly. I talked on the phone more, even though I have a hard time staying focused on phone conversations. I cried to more friends.</div><div><br /></div><div>This time, it has been much harder for me. I found myself thinking, “here we go again” and not wanting to burden or bother anyone. I found myself reaching out to people less and less, and as the pandemic surges all around all of us, I don’t even know that I realized it was happening and I certainly did not expect anyone else to notice.</div><div><br /></div><div>It’s been tough. </div><div><br /></div><div>But I’m aware of it now, and that’s step one. Step two is opening up about it and inviting someone in. </div><div><br /></div><div>I want you to know that in the world we’re experiencing right now, whether you believe in God and hold fast to Him as I do, and know He’s always right there and catching your tears even if you don’t feel or see Him, </div><div><br /></div><div>Or you don’t,</div><div><br /></div><div>That it’s okay to admit when you’re struggling. </div><div><br /></div><div>It’s okay to get help.</div><div><br /></div><div>It’s okay to ask others to help you see the joy inside of you. It’s okay to have others to help you find your hope. It’s okay to ask others to help guide and anchor you.</div><div><br /></div><div>Don’t let your perceptions of yourself and the perceptions of the world stop you.</div><div><br /></div><div>I also venture to say it’s okay to call a friend who you think might be struggling even if they don’t see it themselves. Sometimes, you will crack that heart wide open and the first steps of the journey can begin.</div><div><br /></div><div>“In his kindness God called you to share in his eternal glory by means of Christ Jesus. So after you have suffered a little while, he will restore, support, and strengthen you, and he will place you on a firm foundation.” 1 Peter 5:10. (NLT)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07377902459097589452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5232323392621743480.post-5246178571798566082020-10-17T14:57:00.006-05:002020-10-17T15:07:32.265-05:00I will celebrate me.<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Today, I turned 37. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This past year, as many know, has been quite a year. I’ve had “quite a year” multiple years in the recent past, where I find myself, on my birthday, reflecting on the year and on birthdays past. There’s been some real long journeys, many trials, plenty of struggles, and even more perseverance.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PdD7jSfJ2-8/X4tG1miu29I/AAAAAAAAHWU/VC39nJU6HS4NQ5-erofjHcfxDVpsporagCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_20201014_122651440_HDR.jpg" /></div><div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: left;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rx82gmH0QlQ/X4pZlihuY6I/AAAAAAAAHWE/PC7LLGJEoqwBfYXuiYFA9OGxbZJ4lgn0wCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_20201016_213829.jpg" /></div><div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">This past year has seemed much longer than most years before it, with six long months being spent battling covid-19 and some of it’s lasting effects on my body. If yo know me well or have seen me in “real life” over the last six months, there’s a good chance you’ve noticed. I try to take it on with a smile, but some days are just tough. This past week, especially has been a tough one. As much as I would like to try to explain why that is, the truth is that I just don’t really know. I believe realizing the loneliness that I find myself living through is a portion of it. Knowing that people out there love me, but cannot be around me, is a difficult thing, especially on a birthday. Time drags on, for certain, when you spend weeks and months in isolation. Having my children around during isolation and quarantine (for endless weeks this year) is a blessing, but also, if I’m being honest, can wear on a person when you’re all four stuck within the same walls day after day.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">As I have been reflecting on this past year of my life and what it has transpired to be, I remembered, back in February, at a women’s conference at my church, that during personal prayer, dear friends spoke over me that perhaps, this year is a year to be still. I might slow down and see what God is speaking to me, pray over and wait to hear what plans He has for my life. I had no idea that only two months later, I would be in for one of the longest “still” journeys I’ve had in my life.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I’ve spent hours in prayer, in worship, in tears, in conversations with God, in online Bible studies, online church, trying to be in touch with his whispers and songs to me. Looking back, I can see the quarantine has been a blessing when it comes to being still.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It’s been a lonely year, too. I have voiced before multiple ways it’s been hard on the body, the spirit, the mind, and how strange the world feels to me during this pandemic. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">As life would have it, not only was I infected with covid-19 in March, but I because ill again at the end of September, testing positive for the virus yet again. Because the wear on my immune system was fairly intense the first time, again, it took weeks for the fever to subside, and guidelines for quarantine have us home again. I join Norah in having a quarantine birthday this year, meaning there aren’t parties (not that I have birthday parties, but she enjoys them each year, or need fanfare and celebratory events) or hugs from family and friends. Thankfully, the weather was great this morning, and we were able to quarantine out in nature a while. Norah woke me up with a “Happy Birthday” yell in my face and presented me with a book filled with art she created for me as a birthday gift from her heart. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">As I continued to reflect on my year, it hit me hard last night, that despite the isolation of my birthday this year, one thing is for certain- this is a birthday worth celebrating. I was very sick at the beginning of the year, and there was potential to be quite sick again on my birthday today. God carried me and my children through both of those storms, and I am here, today, to turn 37.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Another dear friend text me earlier today, when I was opening up about this past week and how it was hard on me in various ways. She said “ask Papa God what He thinks of you.”</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">So, as we walked along the trail, struggling a little for breath, pressure building in my chest, I asked Him.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">He reminded me that I am an Overcomer. He treasures me, because I am worthy, I am important, and I will do amazing things with my life, even if I don’t always see it. I have more days ahead to live out His love.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">That’s something else to celebrate. I told the same friend last week, “I get through stuff.” It’s what I do. And God always has been faithful to help me find the peace, the joy, the light, even in dark parts of the journey. This past year was no different, and this next year will be the same.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">So, today, I am taking a few quiet moments to rejoice in my own birthday, to celebrate another year well lived, and to embrace the quiet joy I find in my spirit amidst the valley we are making our way through. I will celebrate me, because I am worthy of celebration.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1D6MKv81AVk/X4tGtZ2rHcI/AAAAAAAAHWQ/J9LRt1TAc2E6zUd_4hyQGuSN54Q6kGMxwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_20201017_143048.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1D6MKv81AVk/X4tGtZ2rHcI/AAAAAAAAHWQ/J9LRt1TAc2E6zUd_4hyQGuSN54Q6kGMxwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_20201017_143048.jpg" /></a></div><br /></div><br /><p></p>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07377902459097589452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5232323392621743480.post-67857984588564503002020-09-07T19:42:00.004-05:002020-09-07T19:42:58.733-05:00Beauty from Ashes<p>“He will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair. In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks that the Lord has planted for his own glory.” Isaiah 61:3 NLT</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mnMWIFwVZFo/X1bSuafMjlI/AAAAAAAAHQA/hqSqFiepgQkI5YMBN2RtRmb4-14qi1M5ACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_20200901_112844.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mnMWIFwVZFo/X1bSuafMjlI/AAAAAAAAHQA/hqSqFiepgQkI5YMBN2RtRmb4-14qi1M5ACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_20200901_112844.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p> If you know me personally, you are likely to know that on March 31, 2020, I tested positive for COVID-19. I have yet to write a detailed post on that, although it’s been on my mind to chronicle my journey medically because the stories are still helping others to fight that battle. It was a long journey. I was sick with a fever and persistent symptoms for over six weeks. I had COVID-19 turn into pneumonia, and shortly after returning to work for a handful of days, I came down with bronchitis which knocked me down and out for another two weeks. I battled almost all of the symptoms, and while I was fortunate enough to be able to fight the illness off at home, there were a few nights I was not sure I would survive it, many nights I could hardly sleep, multiple nights I was quite scared because I could hardly breathe to walk a few steps, and many, many nights after I would wake up in a panic unable to breathe, or feeling like while I was sleeping I was also suffocating with a lack of oxygen. I had terrible, migraine like headaches for weeks on end, body pain like I had never experienced before, and so many more issues. I was contacted a week or so into the illness to ask if when I recovered I would be willing to donate plasma with COVID-19 antibodies (convalescent plasma) and I said definitely. But they said I needed to be recovered first. I tried multiple vitamins, supplements, antibiotics, and rescue inhaler just to keep on going. My kids were terrified many nights that I was going to die. They thanked God that I didn’t almost every night for multiple weeks.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Rs45RwIwl6g/X1bS_j9RpUI/AAAAAAAAHQI/0g7Z-bnSGFcK0Du2u24Dn5lej-D0ua4kQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_20200404_175410860.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Rs45RwIwl6g/X1bS_j9RpUI/AAAAAAAAHQI/0g7Z-bnSGFcK0Du2u24Dn5lej-D0ua4kQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_20200404_175410860.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>After the six weeks of fever, I realized I still had shortness of breath, cough, headaches, body aches, exhaustion, fatigue, joint pain, muscle pain, nerve pain, and it felt like I was going to have a heart attack more often than I care to remember. I was considered recovered, but also not considered really recovered. Every time they would call I would still be coughing. That was the main thing in their mind. I had to stop coughing and I had to be done with the shortness of breath.</p><p>In the middle of July, I had another follow up appointment. All of my bloodwork came back within normal ranges, with kidney function levels at the very cut-off for the low end of normal range. But, I still had fevers. I still had nerve pain. I still had chest pain and shortness of breath. My heart was constantly racing when I was awake.</p><p>My EKG that day was fine so I wore a Holter monitor for 24 hours to see if it would catch the tachycardia and palpitations I felt.</p><p>It did, but I wasn’t considered “bad enough” to need further testing. I was placed on a beta blocker for the tachycardia (my heart rate exceeded 150 for normal daily activities) and an anti-convulsant for the nerve pain. I was still coughing, exhausted, in pain, with random spikes in fevers, and always, always tired.</p><p>In the middle of August, my cough seemed to mostly disappear. It’s now the beginning of September and my cough is very rare. I actually only notice it when I over exert myself, or when I miss my dose of beta blocker. When I miss my beta blocker dosage, the tachycardia and palpitations come back. I still have nerve pain, every single day, usually now located only in my hips and legs. It’s tolerable because I’m used to it. It’s definitely less on the medication, but it hasn’t disappeared.</p><p>I am still exhausted so easily. My muscles are still rebuilding and hurt and ache. I still get headaches pretty frequently, and I have some days with really intense brain fog where I feel like a fool. I rarely wake up in a panic that I am unable to breathe, but I always sleep holding a pillow because I can’t handle the pressure of my arms crossing in my sleep. I have random days were there are minutes of blurry vision I for no reason. I already said it, but I’m always tired. Last week I napped every day and still felt exhausted. My blood levels are still normal and so there’s no documented “reason” for any of it, other than lingering effects of a long battle with Covid-19.</p><p>I still have healing left to do, but I am so thankful that I am where I am after what feels like an eternity.</p><p>However, last week, after months of battling, because my cough was finally considered to be gone, I was able to go into the hospital and donate convalescent plasma. I was nervous that day because I haven’t been inside a medical facility without a fever in months. My heart rate was always way too high, and so was my blood pressure, and I was not sure if I would pass the vitals check that day. Thanks to the beta blocker, I was able.</p><p>It was going well, but about halfway through, the needle pierced through both sides of my vein. There was an instant bubble and blood leaking, and I had to stop early. I was able to fill a few bags almost halfway, which is better than nothing at all. I am still recovering with quite an unsightly bruise with some swelling and pain, but I will gladly do it again if and when I’m able.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aP6k5Cqzff4/X1bTHOpL2MI/AAAAAAAAHQM/yjEVBIe3_u4r1cGhgh0-5C9rDzb-92pHgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1564/IMG_20200907_191503.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1564" data-original-width="1564" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aP6k5Cqzff4/X1bTHOpL2MI/AAAAAAAAHQM/yjEVBIe3_u4r1cGhgh0-5C9rDzb-92pHgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_20200907_191503.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>I had said from the beginning of my battle, I just hoped something good would come from my journey. I wanted to bring hope. And now that I am closer to healed than months before, I am hopefully able to take my fight with the taunt of death and give someone the hope for life.</p><p>Finally, beauty from the ashes.</p>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07377902459097589452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5232323392621743480.post-60656213166081681272020-08-31T20:51:00.003-05:002020-08-31T20:57:46.167-05:00It's great to be eight.<p> Dear Ollie Bear,</p><p>Here we are, again. I feel like this birthday came so quickly this year. I believe it’s because the last six months were a lotta bit crazy.</p><p>Here we are, regardless. Tonight is your last night being seven years old. “It’s great to <i>almost</i> be eight,” you told me tonight. I presume tomorrow morning, it will be “great to BE eight” for real. Eight years ago this evening, 12 days after your due date, I was not-so-patiently waiting for you to be placed in my arms after being induced in the afternoon. You came after midnight, with your umbilical cord tied in a stacked-double knot. I think I say that every year, as it is a fact and an image that will forever be burned in my mind. You’ve been a resilient little miracle from the beginning, you know.</p><p>Oh, my dearest Collin, this year was one for the books. Over the course of the last year, you have grown immensely, not only in stature, finally breaching four feet tall, but emotionally and socially as well. Despite your first-grade school year being cut short, meaning that your time in the classroom with your absolutely phenomenal blessing of a teacher came to a close earlier than any of us wanted, you finished first grade filled to the brim with knowledge and beaming with pride. I was beaming with pride right alongside you. You have approached the second grade school year, just two school days ago, with confidence and calm, despite a chaotic world around you.</p><p>I have to admit, little man, I am incredibly proud of you. I have seen you transform right before my eyes in ways I find it hard to describe. While you still have a firecracker spirit, your reservoir of calm has begun deepening in your spirit. You have grown in your ability to pause before reacting, and although it’s never perfect for anyone, you’ve grown leaps and bounds in your impulse control. Just recently, a teacher at daycare boasted to me with pride in her voice about how another boy hit you for seemingly no reason, and instead of being upset, lashing out, or getting even, you simply told him it was not okay and you walked away. You even told her about how you were going to give the boy another chance to play with you soon, because he could be a good friend. I had tears in my eyes hearing the story. </p><p>As you have been all of your years, you are such a caring boy. You have a gentleness in your soul that shines brilliantly with younger children. You have loved babies for as long as I can remember, but you’ve also come to love toddlers, taking little ones by the hand and playing with them, just because you can. You have done the same with preschool aged children as well. You are really maturing in your relationships. I know there’s still growth to be gained upon and progress to be made, but you have come so very far from the struggles you used to have. I am excited to see what the coming year brings.</p><p>The level at which you read amazes me, as well as the speed at which you pick up knowledge, even, or especially when, it seems like you’re not paying any attention at all. The amount of information in your brain must be coming up close to an encyclopedia worth, I am fairly certain. </p><p>Your sense of humor brings me such joy. You are such a funny guy. I love the witty little things you say and the ease at which you say them. I think we are similar in that way. You keep me laughing and smiling, even on hard days where we struggle. You’re also clever in your problem solving, which is sometimes quite comical as well.</p><p>I covet your hugs. You have always been one to hug with such energy. It’s like your love just has to be shared. </p><p>I love that your getting bigger, but in some ways you still remind me so much of how you’re little. You still adore dinosaurs and playing in water. You love to read. You also have grown to love video games, and are becoming quite good at playing them with your brother which is a little new to me still. In that way, you’re growing up to be a big kid, I know.</p><p>I realize this year, as it was for your sister’s birthday, is one unlike any other. Fortunately for you, we are no longer in covid-19 isolation, so your birthday, unlike your sisters, can be spent with people outside our walls. However, this pandemic has changed some things about the way in which we can celebrate. It makes my momma heart sad to know that I cannot come have birthday lunch with you at school. I hope tomorrow, you enjoy the little surprises and funny card I sneak into your lunch box. I hope that your friends enjoy the suckers we are sending, instead of cupcakes or other non-individually wrapped treats. I know that hugs are probably going to be more scarce this year due to social distancing, but I hope you can still feel the love and celebration of others around you. I hope you can begin to understand the great joy you bring to others’ lives.</p><p>Oh, Ollie, this year I pray that you continue to grow in patience and calm, that your impulses continue to be easier to control, and that you are able to embrace your emotions in a healthy way. Emotions are a gift from God, you know. They’re good to have. </p><p>I pray that you make dear, lasting friendships. I pray that you see your immeasurable value in this world, on a large scale, but also in the smaller scale. I pray you realize you carry light, joy, and love with you wherever you go. I pray that you never feel discouraged, or if you do, to realize that you’re a warrior, and overcomer, brave, and worthy. </p><p>I pray that every day you find reasons to smile, to laugh, to run and play. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lbpuMrFhbkA/X02o1uHkY_I/AAAAAAAAHPY/qzdA3hN9J28HC3CRgkQFjE_zQ-yUun7gQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1564/7DED1CAB-8CAD-42D6-9DFD-F98ED55F42FF.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1564" data-original-width="1564" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lbpuMrFhbkA/X02o1uHkY_I/AAAAAAAAHPY/qzdA3hN9J28HC3CRgkQFjE_zQ-yUun7gQCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/7DED1CAB-8CAD-42D6-9DFD-F98ED55F42FF.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>I pray that you never doubt that you are loved.</p><p>I pray you feel God with you every single day, and see Jesus alongside every step you take.</p><p>I pray that you always know what a resilient little miracle you are.</p><p>I pray you always know that your brother and sister are in your corner and they love you with all of their hearts.</p><p>Sweet boy, I am so thankful God placed you in my arms at 2:11am, nearly eight years ago. I am so blessed to be your momma. You make me a stronger, kinder, more patient woman. You teach me so much about unconditional love. </p><p>You are, alongside your siblings, my greatest treasure. </p><p><br /></p><p>You’re the best things that ever happened to me. I am so glad that you’re mine. I will tell you that, every night we have together, as long as I am able.</p><p>Happy birthday, in the morning, Collin.</p><p><br /></p><p>I love you,</p><p>Mom</p><p><br /></p>Nicolehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07377902459097589452noreply@blogger.com0