to barclay on his 12th birthday

Oh my precious boy,

I’m afraid that this might be a bit sappy for your liking. Maybe when you’re old enough to want to read these it wont bother you.

I’m a weepy mess thinking about the woman I was when I delivered you so tiny and fresh 12 years ago. I wish I could go back to her and tell her what is not important and what is. I wish I could tell her to screw everyone else and just trust her heart. I wish I could tell her to cuddle you more and let the world fall apart.

Our journey together, my journey with my first born child, has been riddled with mistakes. You have been gracious to me no matter how much I have to repent for my anger. We have had to figure things out and it has been nothing but a jaunty dance. But we are doing it. We are figuring things out and I can’t help but think that all our hard work is going to pay off on a sweet couple of years before you leave the house.

First borns have a hard job but they also are the first to bring about the new phases. I thought long ago that I would hate new phases and leaving behind the babyhood, toddlerhood, or youth. But my goodness do I love each new phase with you. It’s like I am discovering a new layer of you every few weeks.

Barclay. You are the most beautiful creation. The most magnificent.

As an allergy ridden child with severe undiagnosed ADHD and a stomach that was always in horrible discomfort, I honestly thought that you might never not struggle. I could NEVER have imagined in my wildest dreams what a caring, mature, helpful, hilarious, fun, well liked, cool without trying to be, young man you would be. But here you are.

This year we found a medication that took you from striving to thriving. It did get rough there for a few months and I knew you were trying your best but man, medication has been such a game changer for all of us. I wish a thousand times over I didn’t wait so long for the relief it brings.

Also last month we tested dairy and found you didn’t have much reaction to it so we are all enjoying the freedom that brings. You had your first milkshake ever and it was a success! You still have to be gluten free but you have the best attitude about it.

This year you grew both physically and emotionally by leaps and bounds. You are the most responsible 12 year old I know. You’ve started taking care of the neighbor’s horse twice a day (and helping your siblings do it too). You got your first job helping a friend in her garden and you have saved all your money. I depend on you for a lot and you almost always come through. You are very tough and do a lot of wood chopping, fire building, engine tinkering, tool building. I’m just so proud of you. I tell anyone who will listen about how freaking dependable you are. I hope you know you’re so much more than just this though.

On a normal day one can find you draped over Grover and reading a book, biking, exploring, spending time with your daddy, baking, playing video games with Sullivan, and even dancing with Lucy Miller.

This year we found ourselves homeschooling after a disastrous try at virtual learning in the spring. I have loved it. You miss your friends, but have had an incredible attitude about learning. We’ve learning the most interesting things and you are there with rapt attention. I think we will look back fondly on this year.

My precious son, you make me excited for the years to come, not dreading them. I can see what a great man you will be, but for now you’re just the greatest boy. You get get more glorious by the minute. I love you so deeply, so widely, so endlessly. I will love you no matter what comes.

Your mama

to lucy miller on her seventh birthday

Oh my darling,

You. You are a flower that wont stop blooming. I think I’ve reached the cusp of how radiant you are and still you bloom. I CAN believe that it’s been seven years since they put you, so tiny and new, into my aching arms. I can believe it because I can barely remember my life without you in it.

This year the world collapsed. You went from being a thriving Kindergartner, speaking Spanish with all your amigos and loving life, to online learning that Mama baaaaarely did because she was trying to help your brothers. You love people and being isolated at home has just broken your little heart. We started 1st grade by homeschooling and you’ve done well…you’re a wiz at math and a lucky guesser at reading. Speaking of reading, your Jojo gave you lessons and taught you to read your first book. No matter how much you like homeschool, you’re always wanting to go back to school to be with friends.

This year you biked and roller bladed almost as much as you walked. I let you skate inside and you would do laps around the house while I did chores. I think you are too cute for words to even capture.

This year you’ve had LOTS of quality time with your brothers. LOTS of good and LOTS of hard. You are a scrappy little thing and hold you own like a boss when it comes to them messing with you. I secretly love it when you smack one of them if they’re annoying you on purpose. Don’t tell anyone that though.

You and I have so many fun things we play. We play salon in the bath, where you’re a mind reading hair dresser and I’m soon to be bride. You made up a secret language you call “Jesus language” and you speak it to me at night. You help me get ready for date nights with bated breath and you love anything sparkly and pretty. We went skinny dipping in our river, just us girls, several times…giggling the whole way. Carrying on the tradition of my childhood on the beach.

You can often be found in your daddy’s arms, nestled snug as can be. You both adventure a lot together and even came upon a family of bears once. Your eyes shone so brightly as you told me of the experience. He delights in you and I’m glad you have that.

You took ballet this year and even had a socially distanced recital at a park. You dance everywhere and you are GOOD AT IT. You are so graceful, keep the beat just right and have a flair for emotion. I well up with tears when you dance. It’s like watching art that lived inside of me.

This year we got to know our neighbor and she lets us ride her horse. You love taking care of Danny and you looooove Miss Judy. Some times you go a’ visiting without us even knowing. You carry on conversations like a little adult.

This year brought mighty power from you. I am determined to not crush it…after all one day you will be a 30 year old woman in desperate need of it. But I’m working on gently helping you harness it. You are a force but I want you to be a kind and respectful force. What a balance. I thought I would be better at it than I am.

Lucy Miller, the years with you have been so rich. I feel like it has already been a life time of wonder and desperate love. You are such a gift to all who know you. You are a gift to me.

Love

Your Mama

to sullivan on his 9th birthday

my precious valentine,

I feel at a loss of what to write this year. It has been an exceptionally hard year with you. In many ways I feel I’ve lost you to a dark place and no matter what, I cannot reach you most days. You’re hurting. You little heart has seen such heartache in its short time. You are the most sensitive of my children and so I think you kind of broke after all the hurt…not broke…cracked. I’ve held you tight many a times as you kick and scream at me, whispering words of truth and blessing over you. Oftentimes I’m just ugly back, and that breaks my heart. We are in really good family therapy, that the Lord provided, and I have hope that your feelings of belonging and the bond with your parents can be built up. It is agonizing to see you like this.

In-between the hard, your countenance shines like the full moon on the ocean. You are a beautiful child with deep, soulful eyes, full kissable lips, and a spark that lights up my soul. The glimpses I have of who you really are are enough.

One of the greatest losses this year was the loss of your twin cousin, Rainy who moved to Colorado this summer. You’ve grown up side by side doing everything together and now it’s like you are not a whole person without her. FaceTime calls and your short one week trip to visit hasn’t come close to filling in the void.

Not to be all doom and gloom, our year has also had many moments of joy and restoration. One of the highlights of the year was that the Lord provided that you could go to Camp Rockmont. Opposite of Barclay, you aren’t usually gung-ho about new experiences and being away from home. You were very hesitant but we gently pushed you out of the nest for 5 days. And what a 5 days you had! I couldn’t believe the boy I picked up compared to the boy I dropped off. Confidence had washed over you, joy was beating in your little heart and you were happy and dirty. You got an award for Strength and Gentleness-a small wooden button that sits on your dresser reminding you of that special time.

In the middle of the year, when hearts were trying to mend, Grover came into our life and has been such a therapy dog for you. I often see you laying nearly on top of him just breathing deeply and feeling content. You go everywhere with him at your heels and it is such a joy to see.

This spring we stumbled upon a house with some land and a creek. It was opposite of what I had ever thought I would want (we lived in my dream 1920’s house, downtown), but the fields of yellow flowers and the bubbling creek called to us and God opened door after door after door and we were able to move here. Anyone who knows you knows that water is soothing to your soul (as it is to your mama’s). You spent hours nearly every day of summer, knee deep, hunched over, catching fish with your hands. There’s a picture I captured of you here with your eyes shining bright and such a feeling of calm washed over you. It’s my very favorite picture I took this year. I am so grateful that you get to have this land, this water to sooth the hurt and restore the cracks.

Speaking of water, we spent days and days at Nana and Papaw’s lake and you fished non stop. You even got to go on a special spend the night with them and went night fishing. You are always smiling when you’re fishing. Your great, big, unabridged grin.

You are still very creative and always folding paper, drawing, molding clay, or whatever else you can find to do with your hands. You still go into a bit of a trance when you are working. Your own little world.

You are learning guitar right now and it is so soothing for you to practice and play. You are getting pretty good! You are surprising me with your dedication and your stick-to-it-ness.

You have grown so tall, I can barely pick you up (which breaks my heart!). Even though you’re such a big kid, you have such a little boy heart. You love being snuggled and rubbed. Sometimes things you say take me a back. I forget what a little boy you still are deep down.

You are tender. So loving towards little ones and babies. I often find you bent down, softly speaking to them, or wanting to help out with them.

I’ve experienced a lot of guilt this year for being so sick when you were five, for having to leave you over and over and over again. Our therapist thinks that break in bond could have a lot to do with your painful freak outs today. We are trying to build up that attachment from the bottom up. So often we sooth you, react to you like we would a five year old. I think it’s working.

Sullivan, I will never stop fighting for you. I will never stop loving you. You are a child of God, perfect in every way. I am proud of you. I am your biggest cheerleader. I can’t wait to see what this next year brings in your healing. I can’t wait to see the adventures you have, the confidence you’ll build, the ways you will change. You are a beautiful creation,

Mama