Happy #5!

Five. 5. V.

No matter how you put it, it just seems so big. 

How do I even put into words what your life has meant to us? Five years ago our hearts overflowed with joy as we welcomed you into this world. We had NO idea .. let me repeat, NO idea how your arrival would change our lives. We mostly just hoped we could keep you alive, but we weren't so confident about that in the beginning. We did not know you would be born wide awake and we would never sleep again. Or how you would go full speed from sun up to sun down and all the hours in between. We didn't know you would be a walking encyclopedia and google would be the only way I'd be able to answer your questions. We didn't know your feelings would be big - not just sometimes, but all the time. There is no way we could have known how you would grow to have a servant's heart and an immense love for God's creation. 

Your dad and I still take turns lying next to you every single night as you fall asleep. You don't have that fresh newborn scent to you anymore. Most nights you smell like a mixture of sweat, bugs, and dirt - the Heavenly scent of a little boy. Your hair isn't as fine and soft, but my fingers still run through it just as easily. You're pretty picky about how your head lies on my arm these days, but I'm figuring it out slowly.

You can build a 750 piece lego set in a few hours, occasionally turn into a fire-breathing dragon, make a mean pirate 'arrrgh', and drive your sister to tears one minute and have her laughing the next. You could read all day, still pick papa as your best friend, and love playing all sports.

My prayer for you remains the same - that God will surround you with people who will lead you to Him, that you will always be yourself and let your light shine to those around you, that you will know how truly loved you are, and that you will walk the path God has designed for you. I won't pray for an easy life because I want you to taste God's sweet redemption, and when you stumble and step off the path I pray you rely on Him to pick you right back up where you left off. I pray that in times of pain and heartache, you're eyes always look up.

Five seems big because for most kids it means Kindergarten and that's your first big shot out into the real world. Your dad and I decided (with a whole lot of help from the Lord) that it just wasn't the right place for you right now. You will be home with your sister and I next year, and I couldn't be more thankful for that. I pray you learn and grow this year and fall even more in love with the world around you. Even though I'm not sending you off to the big school, it's stilla beautiful heartache I'm feeling as I watch you spread your wings, make new friends, and walk a few more steps ahead of me. You need less of me these days, but I'm still your home base. At the park you prefer to find kids your age instead of asking me to go on some adventure with you, but I don't mind watching you be kind and imaginative from the bench. You play a lot more on your own now because as hard as I try, I just can't dive as deep into your world as you'd like me to. At the end of the day, though, you are still asking for mama to sleep with you.

You're always quick to jump in and help me out. Sometimes when I hear, "How can I help, mom?" I want to cringe a little bit knowing it's going to take 5,000 hours longer, but I always let you help because I never want to squash that big heart of yours. You are the first to run to the side of someone who is hurt. You set the table and clean up milk spills. You put your laundry away and clean up your toys (sometimes!)

I'm blessed to be your mom. Blessed beyond words. Some days I'm not sure how I'll ever survive your big feelings, your constant need for adventure and challenge. You and I are so much alike so when your stubborn is on full blast, I just want to throw in the towel. But I don't because I know the qualities you possess that are challenging to me are the same qualities God is using to mold you into the person he has destined you to be.

You are going to do great things, Trice. I don't know what (I pray not play pro football like you think), but I know that your light will continue to shine bright. I know that there are hard days ahead. You will start to notice when kids are mean.. and kids are SO mean. You will fall down and sometimes you will fail. But through it all, you are going to learn and grow and bloom.

.. and me? I'll be right here cheering you on, praying for you, and soaking up every last bit of  these days while you are still my little boy.

Happy Birthday, big guy! I can't wait to see what 5 has in store for you!

Love,
Your Number One Fan

My Mama Heart Cried Today

"I don't think this park is for 4 1/2 year olds. I need harder things to climb. I will be 5 this summer, you know."

Those words cut deep into my mama heart. It was a beautiful February day, and I decided we would enjoy an hour or so at the park when I picked Trice up from preschool. I took them to the least muddy (but still plenty of fun puddles) park which is also the park that is best for kiddos Eliana's age. As he slung himself over the rocking horse, climbed to the top of the play set in 2 seconds, and made it halfway down the slide just by sitting down at the top, I couldn't help but think back..

March 29, 2013

Trice was just shy of 7 months old. It was a gorgeous day, much like the weather we've had recently, so we threw jackets on and headed to the best tiny human park in town. We documented every moment of the process (which kind of makes me sad because I couldn't tell you the first time Eliana went to a park - I'm pretty sure it was the day we brought her home from the hospital..) Papa went along, of course. 

..and it was magical..

and then there he was in 2014..

..and 2015...

I knew before we went to the park that day that those words might be coming. I'd noticed the last time we were there that he really HAD outgrown that park I loved so much. So many memories - the park we ALWAYS went to when his best friend Syd still lived here because it was within walking distance of their house. All the picnics. The time he climbed the tree and fell out. The million times I'd climbed through the tunnel with him. 

Part of me  just hoped I had more time. I often find myself wishing I had more time, but I'm careful not to let my wish for more time interfere with the time I do have. 

I'm the kind of person who reads all those sappy articles about how when your kids grow up you'll wish you had spent more time with them and less time cleaning, etc. and cries because I don't want my kids to grow up but not because I'm not cherishing the moment. I would say I genuinely cherish 99.9% of the moments - even the tough ones - because I feel it.  I KNOW I'm living the best days of my life. I KNOW it's going to fly by. I truly do enjoy the time I have with these sweet blessings God has entrusted to me. 

And the other day when he climbed out of the bathtub by himself, I wondered when the last time was that he needed me to lift him out. When we headed out for a walk and he hopped on his bike and took off down the trail I wondered when the last time was he rode within arms reach in the stroller. As he set the table and drank out of a breakable glass, I wondered when the last time was he used a sippy. And most recently he's been sleeping all night in his own bed. Pretty soon I'm sure I'll wonder, "When was the last time he came to find me in the middle of the night?"

Watching your kids grow up is the greatest blessing - it's the way it's supposed to happen - it's natural and apparently impossible to keep them little forever. I get it. I embrace it. I'm amazed by it. I'm grateful for it. 

But today.. my mama heart cried. 

Death without a Funeral

The last few years of my life have been filled with an incredible amount of grief and loss - so much that one would wonder how I keep going with a smile on my face. To be honest, there are days I haven't felt like I COULD keep going. There have been days heartache and tears have won, but through it all - I have never doubted His plan or love for me. 

At a Jason Gray concert this summer, I heard a song that described these losses perfectly -- it is called "Death without a funeral" and you should listen to it. 

"When there's nothing we can bury in the dirt
No place to lay the memory of all the things that were

No way to feel the closure, no ending to the hurt

It's a death without a funeral."
Jason Gray, Death Without a Funeral

There was no funeral when I lost family member after family member to divorce. There were no heartfelt sympathies sent my way when I finally had that best adult friend I had longed for my entire life only for her to move away and for us to slowly drift apart. There was no goodbye when I watched someone I love dearly be captured by addiction. There was no sorrowful music when my mother walked out the door and out of my life for a few years. 

I would never downplay the finality of death. These "deaths" I have experienced can't compare to the pain and suffering of losing someone completely - as in no way of ever spending time on Earth with them again. All of these people are still here; they just aren't with me. I can watch their lives continue on, but I won't be a part of them. In some of these cases, I am still a part of their lives but the relationship I have with them has been changed forever. 

..there's no healing without grieving..

I've had my share of funerals over the past few years - some that were hard, very hard. Some that brought peace because suffering had ended or their "time" seemed to fit in with the cycle of life. Knowing that those who have left this Earth are safe in our Savior's arm is the hope I cling to on the days I miss them so much the tears won't stop falling. 

But the "deaths" that have been the hardest are truly those that came with no sympathy cards, no meals at my door, no prayers and well wishes, and no goodbyes. Those are the deaths that force me to make a choice each morning - to choose to continue breathing without people I love. But more importantly, those are the "deaths" that constantly remind me of my Savior's love - and that He is truly he only one who will never leave or forsake me. He will be with me now and forever - long after all the things of this Earth of gone. My family and my friends may not stick around - but He will be with me for all time. People around me will make poor choices - but I wont carry the burden. My heart will ache, and I will long for the relationships that were so near and dear to me - but I wont be so caught up in the "what might have beens" that I fail to see the glory of what is.

...when you see me, I'm still breathing - though a million things have died inside of me.. 

So while I continue to grieve the loss of several loved ones who remain on this Earth, I look forward to an eternity in Heaven where there are no tears, no pain, no suffering - where I can wake each day and not feel the loss of those I love dearly and where I pray each missed moment and memory we didn't get to make will seem like so insignificant compared to the beauty of 

The Little Ant Who Could!

A few months ago I saw a post on Facebook that basically said we shouldn't kill bugs. I was having a weak moment and decided we weren't going to kill bugs anymore. Let's just remember that Nick and I are so afraid of bugs that we will pay the other one to deal with them or just run around the house screaming until someone gives in and gets the job done. In college, I'd use my roommate's shoe to kill bugs because I didn't want their guts on my own shoes. So this was quite the drastic change.

I got out a little styrofoam cup, drew a spider on it, and it became our insect catcher. Any time we saw a spider, instead of freaking out, screaming bloody murder and climbing up the walls waving my arms madly, I started acting amazed. "WOW! You guys, come here. You have to see this!" My kids, at first, looked at me like I had lost my mind. Probably because I had. Soon we were marveling over spider webs and their intricate designs. Now we count their legs. We count spots on ladybugs. We chase crickets while they hop. We compare sizes. We watch them do their work.

...and when we are done marveling, we catch it in our cup and we take it outside because while we love bugs (love might be a bit of an overstatement), we think they belong in their natural habitat.

I quickly saw a change in how our children value life - even in the creepiest, crawliest form. They now crowd around and talk about cool things they noticed about the spider or they'll name him or guess if it's a he or she or a mom or dad or baby (ALWAYS a baby if you ask Ellie!) They try to figure out where the spider or bug is headed -- usually to papa's house. We read more books about bugs, and we talk about the importance of different bugs - like how the spiders catch the ants in their webs. They are appreciating and seeing the beauty in even the tiniest of God's creations. Not only did I see a huge change in them, but I saw a huge change in MYSELF. I find spiders all the time now, and I really don't freak out which is a pretty huge accomplishment.

Anyway, life went on. Bugs are cool now. I didn't think this was anything big or significant. But then this happened -

Our sweet little girl creates an ant Heaven underneath her chair at the table every.single.time she eats. After one meal, there are enough crumbs to feed a colony of ants for at least 100 years. So we get to deal with that in the summertime. Wanna come over for supper?!

One day Trice yelled, "MOM! Come here! You have to see this!" That usually means I'm going to rush to his side only to find out he wants to show me something super important like a tiny piece of dust. This time he was crouched down staring at something on the floor. So I crouched down, too. And then Ellie crouched down because she really likes to be like us. And he told me, "The ant is carrying a crumb." And he was - a rather large crumb. So we spent the next 20 minutes watching the ant crawl from one side of the kitchen to the deck door to take the food out to his family. We read that sweet little ant "Charlie the Ranch Dog" because.. well, because, Ellie. He'd get lost and turn around and the kids would cheer him on and tell him not to give up. We talked  about perseverance and how heavy that crumb had to be for that tiny little ant but how he didn't let his size define his potential. We talked about how he NEVER gave up - he was going to finish his task even if he got tired, even if he got lost, even if he got scared, even if he really didn't want to carry that crumb anymore. He had to be strong because his family depended on him. When he finally made it outside, my kids cheered as if that ant had won a gold medal at the Olympics. It was a REALLY big deal.

Fast forward a couple weeks..

We were at a music festival and Trice really wanted to go with me to get lunch. It started raining on us on the way to the food vendors so we turned around, ran back to our stuff, and grabbed our rain gear and headed out again. We ordered food for everyone, and there was no way I could carry it all and our umbrella and ponchos. Trice insisted he could carry his walking taco, and I wasn't about to argue with him. We took off and about halfway there I could tell he couldn't hold it much longer, but he didn't complain. I stopped him and said, "Remember that ant in our kitchen who carried that GIANT crumb all the way to the door?" He nodded with a big grin (because I'm pretty sure that moment is etched in his mind forever). I went on to say, "Let's pretend we are just like that ant and we are trying to carry these big pieces of food back to the rest of our family. We have to keep moving even when they get heavy and our arms get tired and even if it starts raining. We might get lost in all these people, but we'll keep trying to find our way." He smiled even bigger and said, "YEAH! Let's be ants!" Trice weaved and bobbed through the people and was determined to make it back. I watched that taco slip further and further out of his fingers, and I really thought this was going end in a disaster. When we finally reached our spot, he sat down exhausted but not defeated. He made it. His walking taco made it. And then it down poured on us - but that's a story for another day.

And then a couple months later this conversation took place -- "Mom, you know the other night when I was trying to get the dive stick at the bottom of papa's pool and it was really hard to get?" .. "I remember." ... "I was just like that ant. I never gave up until I got it! Do you remember that ant, mom?" .. "Oh yes, I remember that ant."

All it takes is just being intentional. I could have just hollered back at Trice, "Be there in a minute." I could have said, "Ewww.. an ant!" and squashed it. I could have said, "Oh cool!" and moved on. And there have been plenty of times when I have chosen that route - including a few times that same week. I'm so thankful I didn't just miss this moment. Instead I embraced it - I put down what I was doing and stepped into their world for a minute and painted a picture for them I really think our family will use again and again in hard situations.

...off to squash.. er.. save some bugs!!

Watching our tiny ant friend work so hard to get food to his family!