Thursday, August 29, 2013

To my freckle faced boy,

For over two weeks, ever since you meet your teacher, you have been counting down the days until you officially became a kindergartner.  You and I went shopping together for your school supplies and new clothes with a break for lunch at your favorite restaurant, Bugaboo Creak, where the animals talk and the food tastes great.  We went to orientation two days before school, I think it made those last two days of waiting feel like 100 years to you as you left glowing with pleasure and excitement.


The day before we did some last minute things including a dry run of our morning schedule.  You were up at 6:45 to the sound of your new alarm clock that quacks instead of beeps.  We even timed the drive to drop Daddy off at work and then you at school.  Mornings are a bit tricky as we only have one car.  But we finished this practice run with breakfast at one of our favorite pubs.


While you were counting down the days for school to start I was trying hard to hold you loosely, and simply savor those last few days knowing that this next step was a forever change in our family.  It's true that you can always do school here at home with me as your teacher, but it was so much more then that.  While you were celebrating Corduroy the Bear's birthday during the orientation I was sitting in I found myself working hard not to cry as my mind ran down memory lane.  Not so long ago you were in my belly squiggling all around.  With each kick I fell more in love you.  We were one for nine months and then on a spring evening you made your debut as your own person. I felt like my heart was being ripped out that first time I let another hold you.  This week I find myself with these same feelings, for five years I've been with you and now I'm handing you off to another for a time.


But before school started after everything on your to do list was completed you asked if you could go check your mouse traps.  Between the two traps we found three mice and you made sure we let them go.  My same old boy just stepping into a new season, a season that while we walk it together we walk it in a way we never have before.


You know how to love me well.  You so kindly let me take pictures, I think you knew how my guts were in a knots over this day, so without even a question you posed for me as many times as I asked you too.  Again as we went into school you stayed close to me, and I'm pretty sure it was for my sake not yours.

My favorite first day of school picture.
Child, you have birthed me into motherhood.  No you are birthing me into motherhood with each new season.  I'm so glad it's you that gets to teach me and grow me in this way.  My rational, logical boy who is patient most often.

Your brother took this photo and it turned out to be my favorite.
You are an amazing five year old.  God is going to grow us both this year.

I love you,
Momma

Thursday, August 22, 2013

How am I you ask?

I'm sad, a high school friend died today.
So young.
The father of five.
His wife now a widow...

Oh...
I'm scared to tell you what happened.
You don't know it but you two are so close...
Yes, even though you never met...

He died of cancer.

He was diagnosed, a week maybe two, before she was.  He had the same treatments, was on the same schedule as her at least until his was interrupted with pneumonia.  Even still he went home and began the treatments again.  Last Friday he spiked a fever. After being admitted into the hospital he, in the white hospital bed, and his wife beside him heared the doctor say, the cancer had spread to his blood, his bones, even his heart.

But yours and her story is different. Her doctor said, once she gets through all these treatments she has almost no chance of this sickness returning.

So young and God has given her another chance at life.  A gift not many others have.

God said yes to you, friend.  He only had cancer in one muscle.  She had cancer in every single bone, and still God said, "heal her tiny body."

Friend God loves you.  God loves her.

It's important that you know this also, God loves this Father and his children too.

They have also received a life changing gift.  Sadness is a strong emotion, but they have been given a gift of an emotion that is still a stronger one; Joy, never ending always living; Joy.  Today friend he lives, in pure joy and holiness walking with his Creator, your Creator, baby girl's Creator.  Only hours ago his wife, now widow, mother of five, now single mother knows this Joy.  Yes, even the widow knows this Joy.  It runs deeper then her grief.  It is always abounding and she knows it.  She trusts it.

I know these things to be true because she told me so.

This God of Joy loves the widow, as much as he loves your baby girl.  Someday friend may you and baby girl also know this Joy, this forever living Joy.  Someday friend I hope we sit and talk deeply in heart changing ways about this Joy.  Someday friend I hope you meet this father and his widow.  Someday I hope that the four of us sit with the Creator talking about the sickness of 2013, the one that took him from his family, but was spewed from her body.  When we have this talk may we fully see the Joy that was given everyday that year.

Remember, friend you are loved by the God of the the heavens and the earth.

Tuesday, August 20, 2013

A fresh page willing the Master to write His love story.

 1. The moon shining through the bathroom window.
 2. Taking my husbands hand as we walk life.
 3. Motherhood.
 4. Crickets chirping me to sleep.
 5. This house.
 6. Acres and acres of land.
 7. A job I love.
 8. Tattoo of grace, a pillar, a reminder saying, "never forget."
 9. Perfect Grace that has no end.
10. Friends to love me.
11. Bewilderment.
12. Rejection.
13. Deep heart wrenching pain...
14. And still Joy.
15. A failed garden.
16. Garden fresh veggies from a friend.
17. Seasons ending.
18. Surprises of what is to come.
19. The labor pains a mother has as she is being birthed into the age of school.
20. The excitement of a small boy as he counts down to the start of 13 years of learning.
21. A visit to the doctor to find there are no broken bones.