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

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)

A Familiar Loss of a Different Kind

On Monday, morning, October 9, 2023, my dear friend, Buffy Sue, passed away unexpectedly in her home.

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.

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.

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.

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.

This momma group is where I met Buffy Sue.  

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.

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.

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.

That’s when I realized, in a way, I had never really met her, either.  Well, not in person, anyway.

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.

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.”

He was stunned.  He stared at me for a moment before he said “that is so tragic and I am really sorry, mom.”

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.

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.

“We really were friends,” I said, trailing off a little.  

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?  

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.

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.

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.

He told me I was a really great friend.  He wiped away my tears and reminded me he loved me.

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.

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.

I always find that I need to write.

This time, it was a little different.

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.  

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.

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.

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.  

I know you’re singing with the angels, Buffy, love.

Until someday,

-Me

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

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.)

From Seven to Eight

 Miss Norah, my darling girl,

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. 

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.

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?

"I love you." I will say.

"I love you most." You reply. 

"Not possible!" I respond. 

"Yes it is!" You always exclaim. We argue this little conversation daily, and seeing you go today felt the same. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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!  

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!

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. 

I am so thankful for you, baby girl. Thank you for bringing so much color and sparkle to our lives. 

Happy 8th birthday, Norah. I cannot wait to see your 8 year-old smile tomorrow. 

Love you most,

Momma

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

I'm not who I was...

Thirteen years ago tomorrow, at 22 years old, I became a wife. It was a beautiful summer day, surrounded by so many family and friends. My dreams were coming true, and I was going to spend my life with the one who I felt God had chosen for me. We were going to do life together until we breathed no more.

I was legally married for nearly 10 years, and those nearly 10 years brought me so much joy, beautiful children, and cherished memories.  I look back on them and have so many memories where I could laugh until I cry. I have so many memories where I felt such love and joy that I did cry. And I have so many nightmarish memories that I try not to think about or I know I will lay in bed and cry until my eyes swell.  For the most part, honestly, I would say that it was worth it. I was blessed with the treasures I desired since I was a young girl, and that makes the entire journey worth living through.

The last few years of the marriage really brought me nearly a life's worth of stress and trauma.  There was so much darkness, too many surprises, and tons of huge mountains the children and I had to climb.

 Every year, now, I see the date come and go, I reminded of both the beautiful and the terrible memories that marriage brought to me. It's like a silent movie real that plays a rerun in my mind. This is my third year seeing August 5, my wedding date, as a divorced woman.

Each year, I look at my children and remind myself they were the best gifts ever given from that marriage and I am so grateful that God blessed me with the marriage that made their mommy. Each year that passes, I look back, and I see just how much stronger I am, how much wiser, how much more empathetic, how much braver, and how much more resilient I am than that young woman.

As the years carry on, I must say, on my wedding anniversary, I am able to look back and see that I'm not who I was, not entirely, but rather, how God continues to form me day by day, into the woman He always knew I would be.  I don't feel like I fully know this woman yet. Some days, she seems like a stranger I haven't really met. Many days are a blur, raising three young kids in a busy world, but I've been told this new woman is there and she's the one taking control of my life. I may still shed some tears, knowing my life is not like I had dreamed, walking down that aisle in my pretty white dress 13 years ago, but I think that's to be expected and likely very normal, even if my story is a little less than ordinary.  What I do know is that on my wedding anniversary, each year, I can look back and see a life lived with God, great friends and loving family standing by my side every step of the way.

This year is a little different, because after 26 months of near silence (again), my former husband is back in my life. It's been a few months in the making, but God has called me to allow reunification between he and the children that he willingly walked away from (again) in 2017. I've been pretty quiet about this, trusting my prayers and what I feel God has called me to do, instead of soliciting much advice.  I believe I am doing what is best for my children. On the eve of the anniversary, I ask for a gift this year, not for me, but for the children I was blessed with through this marriage.

Please pray for healing in their hearts. Please pray for healing in their dad's heart.  Please pray he will be a dad to them for real and forever. Please pray for patience, peace, and guidance for us all as we navigate this season with hopeful expectation and obvious reservation.

The silence resumes.

I wish I wasn't writing this.  I contemplated not writing this.  But, I felt like not writing it was harder than writing it now.

I gave it a month, even though, I was pretty sure, one month ago today, almost exactly to the minute, I felt I knew what was coming.  I prayed against what felt like the inevitable at this point, but I prayed knowing that prayer does work, not always, but sometimes.  I know it worked once in this situation.  I guess, in my heart of hearts, I know God is a God of miracles, and prayer could bring radical change again.  Yet, at the same time, I'm being practical, and releasing my breath and realizing that for now, this is reality.

You see, for some reason that I fail to understand, one month ago tonight, my children's father disappeared from them, again.  He came back to them on December 26, 2017.  He walked out on them again, almost six months later, to the date.

I wasn't in town, but he had plans to see them with someone I trust dearly.  Up until a few hours beforehand, he was still planning on seeing them.  And then.. he just didn't show.  I reached out to him to find out if he was okay (the bitterness inside me, truthfully, swelled up and I asked him if he was dead), or what had happened.  A few days later, feeling it was the case, I asked if this meant he was done and walking on out again.  No reply to either.  I tried two more times, the most recently, last night.  I pointed out that today marks a month.  There is still dead silence.

I know he is out there.  I know he's active online, and while I can't be certain his phone works or he hasn't changed his number, I know he knows my name, and my phone number hasn't changed in years.

There's silence.

He's abandoned them again.

I find myself quite emotional this week.  I have known all along this was a distinct possibility, but I threw it all in and allowed him back in the children's lives, with the mentality that no matter what happened, whether he was here for good or gone again, we would get through it.  We already walked through hell in regard to this, and we made it through, because of God and his blessings of support.  I knew it would be "easier" this time, as "easy" as something like this could be for four hearts that aren't jaded and cold.   

But that doesn't seem to make it better.  

I'm currently at a point of both thankfulness and despair, pride and humiliation, hope and hopeless.  The part of me that has Christ dwelling inside has a positive spin on it, but my more practical, emotional, momma bear side is angry and negative.  It's a battle.  Yes, I'm going through a battle.  

But, I'm a warrior. I have to remind myself of that even though I feel like laying in my bed and throwing a toddler inspired tantrum.

As I said, I knew it could all fall apart.  But, truthfully, I thought it would be either right away, or years down the road.  

I didn't think he would get bored with his children this soon.

Is he bored with them?  I don't know.

I wish I could understand how someone I "knew" so well for so many years could be this way.  I wish I understood what, in a matter of hours, changed his entire plan.  I wish I could decide if he was incapable of making good decisions, or just chooses not to. I wish there wasn't silence.  The silence, again, makes it even worse.

People have started noticing and asking me about his involvement in their lives and our lack of discussion on the matter.  I am hoping that these questions continue to be directed solely to me, not in the presence of my children.

My children, heaven bless them, are starting to notice his absence.  I don't know if they noticed or felt it right away, because they've been very normal, happy, and truthfully haven't asked about him or mentioned him until this week.  Actually, so far, our three-year-old daughter is the only one who has.  But, I feel it's coming with the birthdays and milestones up ahead.  I am at a crux, wondering if I should confront the issue head on and prepare them, or wait and see when they're ready to talk about it.  I don't really want to assault them with the realization if they haven't come to it on their own yet.  

Also, this probably goes without saying, but... please do not speak ill or negatively of their father in their presence at any time.  Whatever their opinions are to be of him, those need to be formed by their own minds, through their own experiences.

I am so torn, right now, emotionally and faithfully. I want to find comfort, knowing that God will get us through, provide, restore and heal our hearts, minds, and souls.  But I'm a bit angry.  I'm not angry at God, because I know their father has free will, and is choosing his own path away from his children and away from God.  I know this.  I know in my heart that I did do the right thing letting him back into their lives, even though it hurts to be where we are now. I know God wanted me to forgive him.  I know God wanted my children to know their father again, for our daughter to create happy memories with him, because up until now, she had no recollection of her own and relied solely on her brothers or word of mouth from other people who knew her dad.  I know God wanted to show my oldest son that He does in fact listen and answer prayers.  I truly believe that his reappearance in our lives last year was God ordained, and for good and not harm.

I try not to blame myself for the fallout.  In the past, I've been so good at taking the blame, from their father, for things like this.  I KNOW I didn't cause the heartbreak that's to come by allowing them the opportunity to have their dad for a while.  I KNOW that is on their father.  But that's something I have to remind myself every time he crosses my mind, because I also know the enemy wants me to take it all back on myself.  I did open the door, but I did not cause him to walk back out.

I know that my children will know I tried.

But it doesn't mean this doesn't hurt.  It hurts my heart for my kids. 

It hurts so much. It feels like I'm being crushed again, admitting this all "aloud."

I pray that my children's minds and hearts will be protected from severe trauma if their dad really is gone for good this time.  I pray that they'll still believe in God, in his miracles, in the power of prayer and that this does not negatively affect their faith and relationship with Jesus.  I pray they'll still feel overwhelming love and know that they're surrounded by it even if their dad walked out on them again.  I pray that someday, God will truly, wholly restore their father.  I pray that I will be able to forgive him again.   

If you pray, please do.

I found myself, tonight, as I sifted through my thoughts, trying to find scripture to calm my heart.  This is the one that spoke to me the most.  I'm trying to just do what I am often (but not always) able to do, and find peace and solace in my Father's words and promises.

But, I'm not perfect, and it's hard.

I know we will be okay.  And I know I need to give it all to God.  But, I think I also know that my imperfect, human side may still need to cry about it, talk about it, and maybe need a hug or a shoulder at some point. Maybe.  Or maybe not.  Guess we will see.  But, I think that's okay, too.

Breathe. Overcome.

Overcome, overcame, overcomer... this is a trio of words that two friends consistently call me, or refer to as my words.  I hear them say this, I feel where they're coming from, but I don't always see it or feel it as truth.  

Here's a little story of the last 18 hours or so, and how I went from feeling defeated and overwhelmed to realizing that I really am an overcomer.  I apologize in advance if at the end it really was hard to follow or see the point.  But, I just need to type.

I never really chose these words as "mine" but they keep coming back again and again.  Now, yes, I have a relationship with God, but as many, I often have times hearing what he's trying to say to me.

I wrote recently about doorways, and how I'm closing one door from the manipulative marriage I was in, and moving forward to whatever is beyond the next door.   I have been through fires and trials, and somehow, I'm still able, most days, to laugh, smile, and relish in the many joys that God bestows upon me.  

Some days, though, I still falter.  I grapple with negative thoughts, fears, and worries.

This past week was a week filled with the grappling.  I've stayed up late mulling over the what-ifs and fearing what may or may not come in the future.  It's been EXHAUSTING.  I had a beautiful reprieve yesterday when I was able to spend a few hours with some long-time friends, allowing my children to play with theirs, and to voice some of these issues and talk through them without children in ear shot.

But for some reason, when I left their house last night and my children fell asleep in the van, they came flooding back, more intense than before.  Fears like... "if I were to die on a weekend, how long would it be before someone was wondering where I was, and how long would my children remain scared, hungry, tired, and alone."   

Now, this fear has plagued me since I first had a baby, and my husband worked overnights.  It would fall into the background from time to time, but it's always been there.  

When I finally returned home, the children were all still asleep, and I had a text from one of my friends who speaks "overcome" to me.  She was asking how I was, and my fingers flew across the keypad on my phone as I emptied my heart to her again.

I had been only half-clinging to God throughout the week, and more clinging to myself, my mind, my strength, my fears.  I knew it even if I couldn't say it.  But, then God reached out and grabbed me, and brought me back to Him.

She called, I didn't answer the first time, but she called again, and I laid down my pride and I answered.  She talked with me, let me cry, and prayed with me.  When she was done, a song I cling to that comes to me often at the perfect time, started on the van radio.  It was the first song I think I heard the entire drive home.  

"Lord, I need you.  Every hour I need you.  My one defense- my righteousness..."  It hit me, as it always does, like he was calling out to me to call out to Him.

She suggested I listen to one specific song when I got home.  I never got to it, unfortunately, because the three children all woke up very upset, and I went through and extensive bedtime routine before getting them to sleep.  At that point, I opened my Bible, which I have admittedly neglected this week, and began reading where I left off.

I laughed to myself as I realized God was showing me what just happened in the van, (as it has many times before) and how it's been His plan for me all along to have that sort of thing happen when I need it most.  As my friend says frequently, I'm not meant to go at it alone, after all.  It happens when I start feeling like I'm crumbling, I find a friend or two that build me up.   I sat there, amazed, though I shouldn't have been, I'm sure, by the verse.  I prayed then that I could be that person for someone else who may need it.  I still pray that.  I've always prayed that, actually.

I digress.  I then began apologizing to God for not trusting Him through the week and worrying so much about things I can't control, that He has under control, and things I can't begin to work on yet while I'm still before the next door in my journey.  I felt a sense of relief, and started sobbing. 

God often speaks to me through music, and right before my friend text me to check on me, I started humming a melody.  It took me only a few moments before I realized what song I was singing.  It's an old favorite called "Breathe on Me" by Jennifer Knapp.

The key lyrics that came to my mind were:

No temptation seize a man that he can't overcome.

Who am I to be fallen?

Crack your back on a slab of wood

come freedom, nail it down, I come crawling

I come crawling.

Come trickle down and save the world

two hands that I can't see

come breathe, come breathe, come breathe on me.

Split rib water, blood and bone,

come now, come Calvary.

Come breathe, come breathe on me.

Testimony come now quickly, whisper in my ear

Celebration

Peace at last not far away, 

empty sheet, a borrowed grave

Salvation

Come freedom come.

Exhausted, I fell asleep on the couch.

This morning, when I woke up to Norah in my bed, stealing my covers, I realized she had slept better last night, than she had in weeks.  She only woke up once (yes, she still sleeps like a newborn).   I went to church, excited as I am every Sunday for that last 8 or so months.

Two songs brought me to tears.  The first was the song that my friend suggested I listen to last night but never did, "Great Are you Lord," by All Sons and Daughters.

She even quoted it to me last night, "It's Your breath in my lungs."  Another breath related word.  Breathe is another message I find myself getting often because I really forget to breathe in the right air sometimes.  

The second song, talked was "No Longer Slaves" by Bethel Music.

You unravel me with a melody,

you surround me with a song

of deliverance from my enemies

til all my fears are gone.

I'm no longer a slave to fear,

I am a child of God.

As I mentioned, I have been dwelling on fears.  Last night, when we prayed, we prayed that be broken.  And here it was, again.  That, and the first line... that's totally me.  I already mentioned that also, God speaks to me through song quite often.  I find he speaks to me through song, through a few close friends especially, and through the Bible readings when I get over myself and my need to do other things with my time and sit down and read it.  I'm working on it.

Today, the message was about overcoming offenses.  I immediately flashed back to a book, "The Bait of Satan" that I had borrowed from my friend and read a few months ago. When I read that book, I felt such a release.  I forgave and moved on from offenses I had been holding onto at the time.  It was such a blessing.

I had said to my friend last night that I wasn't sure what else was burdening me, and we prayed I would see it so I could release it.

Well, there it was.  As soon as I saw the title of the sermon I knew.  I had latched on to new offenses since then, and I needed to overcome them.  A fresh freedom is what I needed.

So, I listened, reflected on the book and the message.  And when the pastor prayed, I released again.  I still need to work, I will admit, because some offenses run deeply. But, I truthfully don't want to hold onto them.  So, I'm working and praying on it in the days ahead.

He mentioned this verse:

This verse, for a few months, has been the screen lock on my phone.  "I have overcome the world."  I see it daily.  Today, I realized I have been seeing it, but I haven't been really reading it.

After church, my other friend said to me again, something along the lines of "how'd you like that?  It was your word again."

It was. 

I sit here, this afternoon, my children with their aunt and uncle a few hours so I can clear some of the clutter from our apartment, and I feel much lighter, not totally.  I still need to figure out what else is burdening my heart and work through it.  But, I'm sitting here with clearer mind, again, seeing my words.

Overcome.  Breathe.

I can do both.  I have done both.  God's done the overcoming for me and He's the air I breathe. 

And my weary heart is going to be okay.