Fourteen again

 Oh, my Ollie Boy,

Tonight is the last night of the year in which you were thirteen.  As is always the case, it doesn't seem possible, but I've learned to trust that it is and to try to savor more moments as they pass, like they're a currency in savings I need to hold onto forever.

This past year has been a year of incredible growth for you, and not only physically, now that you are almost the exact same height as me.  I laugh to myself thinking back to tiny little Collin, who was asked what he wanted to be when he grew up, and he answered "tall."  You're almost there now, with a lower voice and darker hair, and while you felt like it took forever, it seemed to happen in a flash in my momma eyes. 

You've grown emotionally, mentally, and spiritually as well.  While getting older does present challenges, especially with emotional regulation, I have been impressed with your ability to handle it, most of the time.   Your "race-car thoughts" and instant reactions have slowed, and your ability to process a moment has increased.  You recover from hard moments so much easier, and are much wiser in your age.  I have loved watching you and your brother become great friends, and you and your sister strengthen your bond as well.  It has been wonderful to watch you all enjoy things together.  

I am so grateful, though, that even with all of this growth, you're still attached to me.  I love that you want to be around me, are not afraid to hug me in public, say "I love you," and just generally spend time together even if the world is watching.  You have sown your roots into family traditions, expeditions, and memories, and to see you grounded in love for your family (both nuclear and extended) leads me to believe that you will always feel that we are your home and your safe space, which is what I've wanted for you all along. 

I know sometimes you still worry about not fitting in or that you won't find your space and your people in this world, but I truly believe that you will, and that it's happening now.  In many years past, changes and upset have thrown you off, but now, you're able to rely on consistency and confidence in ways you had not before.  It's beautiful to watch my prayers be answered in that way.

Your sense of humor and sense of exploration still continue to amaze me.  You're wise and well-spoken, and you've become more in-tune with the world around you.  I love that things that fascinated you when small continue to as you continue to grow, and that the intellectual and adventurous appeal of paleontology, archaeology, and other sciences still have a hold of your heart and mind.  One of my favorite memories of your thirteenth year was visiting the archaeological dig with you, and seeing how incredibly focused and excited you were walking around, observing, interacting, and asking questions.  Not many people I know look at a pile of dirt and debris and are excited by it in the way that you are, and it's one of the unique and treasured things about you that I hold dear.

Over the past year, you've become more in-tune with your own mind and personality.  I've watched you learn to advocate for yourself in ways you haven't before, and put words to things that cause you to struggle.  You have been able to step back from the heat of a moment to process situations before reacting more than you ever have.  You truly have grown so much.

It's been a delight to watch you grow into your role as an older cousin, taking responsibility and care for your younger ones, being firm in redirection sometimes but also full of joyful play.  

We joke lately about you being a cat whisperer, and it's a joy to watch cats from various places seek you out, crawl up into your arms, and purr, especially if they're not usually a cuddly feline.  They can sense the gentleness in your soul. 

Of course, there's always room for growth in some of the weaker spots, like working hard to control which of the thoughts in your brain sneak through your lips, but even that has been steadily improving with your maturity. Thank you for always taking redirection knowing that it's stemming from a place of love.

I know that you aren't excited about your last year of middle school, but I pray that you embrace it and continue to find your footing in the space, hold onto friendships you've made, and really connect with your peers.  I know you are excited for archaeology club in high school, and I hope that continues to be your goal for your middle school graduation.  I pray that you are a good role model and mentor for the younger kids in school now that you are in the oldest class.  I pray that you treat people with respect and kindness, regardless of how connected you to feel to them.  I love seeing the smile on your teachers faces when we walk the halls together, and the care that they have for you, reaching out to me periodically with anecdotes or questions.  People truly do invest in you, buddy.

Collin, I pray that you never lose your sense of adventure and exploration.  I pray that your bravery continues to develop.  I pray that you always feel loved and appreciated, seen and heard, and never that you do not belong.  You do.  You were made and placed perfectly into this family and our entire support system.  You are treasured more than you realize. 

Thank you for loving deeply, fiercely, steadily, and wholly.  Thank you for never hesitating to give a hug.  Thank you for saying I love you regularly.  Thank you for bringing a new perspective into many situations. Thank you for always standing up for those you love, no matter what.  Thank you for being a fierce protector.  Thank you for bringing joy into my world.  

You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I'm so glad you're mine.

-Mommmmmmm

The last dozen years

 

Hey there, Girlfriend.

As you drift off to sleep, one last time, as an eleven-year-old ball of feisty, fiery, fun energy, I sit here, trying to let my brain convince my heart that it's okay to let go of yet another age and move on to the next one.  For some reason, this time, I feel a little less ready to embrace the change.

The next time I see you (unless our cat decides we need a pre-midnight waking) you will be twelve.  It's the last dozen years' milestone in our little family.  It is the last year before you become a teenager and all three of my children are in that age range.  It just doesn't seem possible.  

I need to remind myself not to jump that far ahead yet.  We still have a year, after all.

Norah, watching you grow over this last year has been a wild ride.  You bring me such joy, and I love seeing your personality, independence, intellect, wit, compassion, bravery, and maturity develop.  You are balancing between a kid and a young woman, already.  There are so many times I find myself feeling like you are wise and mature beyond your age.  

Navigating this age is a a rollercoaster, I know.  We have talked many times about how difficult it is to be a girl your age, with emotions, feelings, thoughts and more all feeling so overwhelming and chaotic.  Friendships feel easy and natural one day and strained the next sometimes, and it triggers introspective hours, worry, and tears.  It doesn't usually take long to realize it's all going to be okay, and things fall back into their happy normal place. But it's exhausting.  I know that you will mature and bloom through it all, and you will come through it knowing what really makes you a treasure to your friends, and your friends to you.  There is so much to be learned in the trials of pre-teen years, and I pray that you take it all with grace and humility, and that nothing but beauty comes forth when this part of the journey is through.

I have many prayers for you this year, as I always do. I pray that you continue to find your strength, your bravery, your calm, and your voice.  I pray that you feel successful, and that you know that you know you are smart, capable, and creative.  I pray that you have success not only academically but socially, and that you continue to be a beacon to others and a positive role model to your peers.  I am always so overwhelmed with pride when I hear adults talk about you and the ways that you make your surroundings a better place. 

I pray that even on hard days, your beaming smile shines through and you find a way to laugh and sing.  I pray that on the best days, you are able to capture moments in your mind and can look back on them in the many years to come. 

I pray that you continue to find things that ignite passion and that you continue to try new things and develop new interests.  

I pray you always care about others and can continue to see those who often feel overlooked or forgotten because that's a beautiful gift from Papa God. 

I pray you never lose your playfulness.

I pray you are always able to see good in the world even though sometimes that feels overwhelmingly difficult.

I pray you always hold on to hope.

I pray you always know that God is with you.

I pray you always know you are deeply loved.

Thank you for blessing me with another year of laughter, singing, creating, exploring, snuggling, and the thousands of other moments we shared.  I love when we are able to spend time together, even if it's something simple like goofing off as we drive through down on errands.  Next time we get coffee, I'll let you order for me.  Don't let me forget.

Thank you for making me a better momma.  Thank you for loving me even when I'm cranky, or you're cranky, or we are all cranky.  Thank you for arguing with me about who loves whom more.  Thank you for never letting me forget that I'm goofy.  Thank you for all the help you provide in so many ways.   Thank you for being authentically you, all of the time.

You're the best thing that ever happened to me, and I'm so glad you're mine.

Happy 12th Birthday, Boo.

Love you more,

Momma

When You're Fifteen...

 Spencer, 

I don’t think that the 15th birthday is considered some monumental milestone, typically, but for some reason, in my heart, it feels like a major birthday somehow.  Perhaps, it’s because I know what you’ve been through all these years, and seeing you, a wise, caring, humorous, generous, and loving young man, feels like more than just a dream come true. 

I know YOU don’t always feel that way about yourself, but lucky for you, I’m here.

“Cause when you’re fifteen and somebody tells you you they love you, you’re gonna believe them…”

It’s a song lyric. While I know the song isn’t about parental love, as I powered on my iPad to write to you, as you drift off to sleep after an exhausting week, that lyric burst into my mind.  

I love you.

I hope you believe it.

The end of that song goes “But I’ve found time can heal most anything, and you just might find who you’re supposed to be. I didn’t know who I was supposed to be at fifteen.”

I pray that for you, my wonderful son. I believe there is absolute truth in those words.  

I didn’t know who I was at fifteen either.  I do now.

I am your mom.

I am your friend.

I am your safety.

I am your champion.

I am yours.

As you know, I dreamt of you forever. I hoped for you for decades.  I’ve told you more than once, and I will tell you again- you were the miraculous answer to my deepest prayers.

You’re everything I imagined, and so much more…

…and to see joy in your eyes brings me elation that I cannot describe.

Like tonight, when unexpectedly, you were given a gift I’m not sure you dared to dream for, and held your guitar in your hands.  When I handed it to you almost two weeks ago in the guitar shop, I just knew it had to be yours.  I knew I had to make it happen…

..and it did.  The guitar that is years older than you, but somehow was made specifically for you, is yours. And such beautiful moments happened shortly after, when you sat down with your uncle, your siblings, and your cousins, and musical memories formed, filling the room.  I watched you playing, singing along with them, with tears in my eyes.

I know it doesn’t probably feel like it yet, but right in front of me, I’m watching you find who you are. I love who you are.  Quite frankly, you’re one of my very favorite people on this planet.  

The teenage years are complex, no doubt, but I love the general, genuine ease of our relationship.  I love that we can laugh together, cry together, be quiet together, be noisy together… be…. together, and there is no conflict or strife, even on harder days.  It’s a God thing, no doubt.  

When you read this, you will officially be fifteen.   As you go about your days this year, I want you to know I’m still always praying for you- for healing your hurts, for increasing your joys.  I pray that you find deep, meaningful friendships, and people you can call your tribe.  I pray that your interests and passions expand and deepen. I pray that the music you create is rooted in your soul and brings fire to your spirit like it does when I hear you play.   I pray that your sense of humor never fades, and your smile only brightens.  I pray that you feel anchored in who you are and never feel lost in this crazy world.  I pray that you believe only the truth about who you are and not the lies that the enemy wants you to latch onto.

Thank you for the hugs, every day.  You know you hug me more than anyone else in the world, right?  I love it, more than you know.

Thank you for making fun of me and keeping me humble.

Thank you for all of these years.  

You are loved, more than you’ll ever know.

You are worthy.

I’m so glad you’re mine.

I love you.

Forever and ever, amen.

Mom

Tween

 

Hey, Girlfriend,

Here we are... at yet another transition.  I didn't google it or anything, but in my mind, this birthday marks the transition from big kid to tween.  Is that how it goes? Tonight, you go from ten to eleven.  It really isn't that much older, but it feels like a big transition somehow.

Norah, you are one of the greatest humans I've ever met. You are full of spice and spunk, laughter, and love. You radiate joy with your smiling eyes and your bounding laughter.  You are SO, SO loud, I like to think your joy carries far beyond who can see you in front of them.  I hear from so many people that they see your light in your smile, in your dance, in your eyes.  It makes me so proud to call you my own.  I try not to get too full of myself, but I like to think that my goal of raising good humans is coming to fruition with each year that passes.  

Sure, now that you're becoming a tween, you're also... a little... well, you know. Emotions happen.  We struggle some days, but our communication within our little family is pretty top-notch most of the time, so we get through even the biggest rollercoaster days. 

We are all learning a little more about empathy and grace these days, I think.  We all work as a team to try to remember to pause and not react, and when we do react, to react with kindness and understanding. It's a wild ride watching all of my littles go from three kids four and younger, to three kids entering their teenage years.  So many people talk about how teenage years are hard, and I know that's true, but so far, for the most part, I am enjoying this phase of life.  It's been so fun to see personalities change and emerge. You, my daughter, are also my friend, and the person I spend the most time with outside of work.  You still think I'm fun and hilarious, and you seek me out more than anyone else I know.  I know that we have had talks about how I'm still trying to navigate that, being a somewhat independent person, and that your need for me, your desire to be around me frequently, to have my eyes and ears on you, is a sign that we have a great relationship.  I tell myself it must mean I am a good mom.  I am truly blessed when you (and your brother) reaffirm that.  I promise that in this next year, I will try my best to slow down and be in those little moments with you, the ones you crave even though I don't necessarily understand it (within reason, of course).

But really, you're my daughter and my girlfriend. I love our coffee & smoothie dates, cruising in the car singing at the top of our lungs, laughing about ridiculous nonsense.  I love that our sense of humor is similar and our sarcasm is complimentary, so we can tell when we are being silly snarky with one another.  I love that we can (usually) read each other's expressions and know things without words being spoken.  I love sharing a room with you and I find it utterly fascinating you feel the same way.  I didn't expect it.  I love creating with you. I love watching TV with you. I love fighting over the affection of our cats with you.

And that's just me. You are so many things to so many people. Your brothers are blessed by you and your love for them even when you don't get along.  I know you would each stand up for the others when time gets hard.  I've seen you have each other's backs when it feels like others turn away. Your besties are blessed by you and your silly inside jokes, dances, and hand-shakes.  Your teachers are blessed by you and your sense of community, compassion, and inclusion.  Your cousins are blessed by your unconditional love that surpasses all geography and ages.  Your aunts, uncles, grandparents, and chosen family are blessed in the same way.  Animals all over the place are blessed by you and how your excessive energy can be calmed in an instant so that a furry friend will seek you out almost anywhere we go. You are full of empathy and compassion. You see the unseen.  You have a creative, unique, problem-solving mind that brings goodness to this world.

You're a treasure- a mutli-faceted gem.  

Having once been a pre-teen (I didn't know the word "tween" when I was younger, shocking, I know.. the [late] 1900s were really something...) I know that the next few years are going to be full of self-discovery, conflict, and resolution.  Your sense of self may be challenged in unexpected ways. You may cry a lot of tears over a lot of things, both inconsequential and significant, and it all really does matter.  Friendship lines may blur and change, but I pray you'll remember to always be a good friend to those around you.  I pray that you never harbor hatred in your heart. I pray that you embrace forgiveness, but also firm boundaries to protect your heart.  I pray you are able to tune out the lies you may be tempted to believe about yourself, and hold firm to the truth.  I hope that you are always able to know when to be serious and when to be silly, who to joke with and when, and that it is a rarity to hurt another person's feelings. 

You are brave. You are strong. You are fierce.  This world has thrown some really big stones your way, but you've knocked them down or climbed over each one, and not a single thing can break you if you hold onto who you really are inside. I know it. 

Girl, you're going to move mountains and change atmospheres.  I can't wait to see it.

Keep sprinkling kindess. Keep splashing sunshine.

I love you.

More.

Most.

(Your brothers too, even though you don't always like them, and I have to remind you they're also my favorite people. We'll keep working on it.)

You dazzle me.

YTBTTEHTMAISGYM.

Hahahaha.  I hope I got that right.

But yes, "it's possible."

Always,

Your Momma

Another Dozen Years

 Dearest Ollie Bear,

I wonder how long it will be before you ask me to stop calling you “Ollie Bear.”  I hope that you never do, but I understand that as you get older, things like that may be less acceptable, so I’m holding on to that nickname as long as I can.

As you lay in bed tonight, wrapped up in your blanket, with Mr. Cuddles and books strewn about your bed, you look so young, but so much bigger than I remember you being not all that long ago.  In the last year, you’ve not only grown taller, but more patient, focused, and mature.  I’ve watched you deal with complicated situations and heated emotions with more grace than ever before.  I’ve seen you kneel down to the eye level of younger kids and help direct them in clear, loving, rational ways.  I’ve seen the amount of impulses you act upon decrease in number as the days wind onward. You’ve walked long, difficult roads, for many years, and come so very far.

Mister Collin, you bring such depth and variety to my life, but also the lives of countless others around you.  This year, you’ve started middle school, which was an emotional transition for both of us.  You’ve left such a lasting mark on the hearts and minds of so many in your days, however, that there were emotions and questions and anecdotes and memories shared with me by so many of the elementary teachers  and staff that you left behind as you go forward on the new journey.  Watching them all hug you on the first day of school this year, as we took your sister to her final elementary year, brought tears to my eyes.  They trickled down my cheeks after I watched you step out of the car and walk bravely to the new school where you will meet an entirely new set of people to leave a mark upon.  I pray that it’s a positive, beautiful mark, and that you can touch their lives as you have so many teachers and staff before them.  I get such joy hearing all sorts of Collin stories.  You really liven up this life.

You are such a smart dude.  The amount of information you are able to bring to us is incredible, and listening to you and your older brother discuss more complicated topics than you have in the past makes me grin in the other room as I listen in quietly.

I’ve enjoyed learning new things about you over the course of this last year.  Just recently, I found out your favorite song is “Everybody Wants to Rule the World,” by Tears for Fears, which intrigues me greatly.  It sure does bring a smile to my face to see you run to the room the song is playing from and do your little bee-bop dancing as you sing along.  I really have no attachment to the song and could go my life without hearing it again, but then I wouldn’t have those moments of watching the joy it brings to you. I love that you found an interest in playing the trombone in the school band last year, and that you’ve become quite a talented artist, bringing your unconditional love for dinosaurs to drawings I find throughout the apartment and car. 

You still have such a quick sense of humor, but also a clever set of problem solving skills that have become quicker as days go by.  It’s been another fun thing to watch you really tap into. 

You’ve become braver over the last year and really been more open to trying new things.  It’s been a joy to watch you realize new loves, likes, and even dislikes.  The world is such an expansive place and with so many experiences to immerse yourself in, and I love that you’re willing to approach it in ways you haven’t in the past. I love that you realized you love steak… and bacon- lots of bacon.

I love that you’re almost always up for some kind of adventure (even if it takes a little coaxing) and that you still let me take your picture even if you don’t really want me to.

I love that you still love to hug with full force and wreckless, loving, abandon.  I love that you still like to snuggle me.  I love that you still rest your head on my shoulder as we sit on the couch.  I love that you remind me you love me.  I love reminding you the same.

Collin, I can’t wait to see what your next year brings.  The first dozen have shown developed a love in me like no other and helped me see the world through so many different lenses and filters.  You’ve taught me deeper patience and understanding.  I have seen you bring those same gifts to others in all areas of your life. 

I pray that your next year is filled with life-altering and personality-solidifying experiences, but I mean that in the best ways.  I know you’ve had enough heartbreak and trauma in your first twelve years.  I (perhaps unrealistically, because we know how the world can be) hope that only great and beautiful things fill this next year of your life.  If, by chance, some less than wonderful things happen, I hope you can find the beauty in them, at least looking back at them, if it is hard to as you go through.

I pray that you make life-long friends and supportive, positive relationships in middle school. I hope you find your niche and your people and that you sense safety in those spaces and communities.  I pray that your mind is enriched greatly by all the new things you will learn and do. I hope you love your middle school years.  I hope your year twelve is the best one yet.

Thank you for being a beacon of unconditional love, not only for me and your family and friends, but even for many who have “wronged” you or caused heartache in the past.  Recently, we were discussing a person that, at the time, was incredibly difficult to continue interacting with, and you remarked how they were a good person.  It stopped me in my tracks and I tasted the bitterness in my spirit and realized that you were right, they are likely a good person, even if our experience with them was pretty wretched overall.  

I hope you can continue to easily forgive others and to not hold grudges that weigh on your heart.

I love you, my Ollie Bear- more than you’ll ever know.

Happy Birthday, Buddy.

You’re the best thing that ever happened to me and I’m so glad you’re mine.

-Mom

First-teen

 Dearest Spencer,

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.

Tonight, you close off your first dozen years and you will wake up as an official teenager.

Not kid, not pre-teen, but a teenager.

Wow.

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. 

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.

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.

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.  

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.

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. 

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.)

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.

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. 

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.)

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.

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.

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.

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.  

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.  

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.  

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.  

Love you more,

Mom (not Bruh)

The Middle Eleven

 My dearest Collin,

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?  

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. 

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.

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.

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!

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.

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. 

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.

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.

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.  

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.

I pray this a year unlike any other, and you really, truly, get to know how wonderful you are.

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.

You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and I’m so glad you’re mine.

Love you more,

Mom

Washed by the Water

Growing 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. 

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.  

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.

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.  

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.

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. 

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. 

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.

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.  

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.

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.

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?”

I could almost envision it in my mind.

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…”

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.

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.

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.  

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.

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.

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.

I was ready, too.

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.  

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.

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.  

It was a perfect morning.

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.

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.

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.  

 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.

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.

It was a perfect family baptism.  

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.

(Thank you to my friend Jolynn of Beloveds Design Photography for capturing baptism photos, including the one I share publicly here.)

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!)

The last single digit..

 Miss Norah,

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?

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

I pray that you hear the truth Jesus has spoken about you, and you hear his whispers regularly. 

Baby girl, not so much a baby, but yet, always my baby, 

I love you. 

You love me more...

But as I've told you, that's not possible. 

Happy birthday, Norah B. 

Love,

Momma

Our first dozen years.

 Dearest Spencer,

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.

You are awesome.  I hope you know that.  Deep in your heart, I hope you believe it, because it’s absolutely true.

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.

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.

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. 

 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.  

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.

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.

Love you always, no matter what…

Mom (Bruh.)

Our first decade together

 Dearest Spencer,

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.

That’s a decade, you know.

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.

Ten!  It’s such a huge milestone, don’t you think?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.  

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.  

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.

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.  

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.

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.

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.  

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.

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.

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.  

I cannot wait to see what this next year brings for you.  There are beautiful things on your horizon.  

Thank you for the decade of love, grace, mercy, and memories.

You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I am so glad you’re mine.

I love you.

-Mom

It's great to be eight.

 Dear Ollie Bear,

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.

Here we are, regardless.  Tonight is your last night being seven years old.  “It’s great to almost 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.

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.

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.  

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.

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.  

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.

I covet your hugs. You have always been one to hug with such energy.  It’s like your love just has to be shared.  

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.

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.

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. 

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.  

I pray that every day you find reasons to smile, to laugh, to run and play.  

I pray that you never doubt that you are loved.

I pray you feel God with you every single day, and see Jesus alongside every step you take.

I pray that you always know what a resilient little miracle you are.

I pray you always know that your brother and sister are in your corner and they love you with all of their hearts.

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.  

You are, alongside your siblings, my greatest treasure.  

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.

Happy birthday, in the morning, Collin.

I love you,

Mom