Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Ian: Birthday Letter at Age 9

To my baby boy (sorry but you are still mommas baby boy;)

On September 19, you turned nine years old.  Yes, I am a month late writing your birthday letter too, I had to keep things fair. Nine years ago you made your entrance, very quickly and 2 weeks early at that, as if you were impatient to meet us.  You are the baby, currently and have made it very clear that you are ready to hand that title off to your little sister.

Here is just a little of you at Nine:

You love sports. Any kind.  But you are never without a baseball or football in your hands.  Even just sitting you subconsciously are throwing one ball or the other in the air, over and over.  Nothing has been broken yet, and I have given up on "No balls in the house", I found myself repeating it every five minutes.  So now the rule is "no throwing the ball in the house".  I'm anxiously waiting to see what is going to get broken first...

You are always on the go.  Unless you are sleeping you are moving.  Although I love this about you and your dad, sometimes it just wears me out.

You collect baseball and football cards.

School is not your favorite, but it's ok because of P.E. And you pick out your clothes every night.  This is surprisingly important to you.  You are very adamant about what looks good together.  but ironically would wear nothing but shorts (as in no shirt, no socks, no shoes) if I let you, even if it was 10 degrees outside.

You do still want to be babied in the morning.  (sorry it's true)  You want to climb in my lap and fall back asleep, and if we don't have time you are a bit of a bear!

We love you to the moon and back.  We hope we have the energy to keep up with you as you explore life with such passion.
 Birthday Wake Up Rolls

Birthday Party Fun with friends

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Post Office Blues

This. Is. Really. Hard.

I mailed Isabel's care package #3.  I pulled into the post office parking lot, reached over and grabbed the little package and wham, tears just started to poor.  Yep, sitting in the parking lot, I held the package close to my chest, and just cried.  Blah.  I didn't mean to cry, and where the emotions came from is completely beyond me.  It took me a good five minutes to collect myself enough to walk in the doors, looking like a hot mess at that.  Those who have been through this process can verify how crazy and unexpected some of these emotions are.  I find it difficult to put into words.  We desperately love this child, worlds away...who doesn't even know us.  But we love her.  

Climbing back into my car, I gripped the steering wheel and prayed for peace.  Words from the book of Jeremiah flooded my mind, "Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you."  God gently whispered into my soul, I loved you before you knew ME.  The love you hold for this child that I have placed in your heart, is just a small measure of the love I have for her, and of the love I have for you.  How does one understand the love of God?  We can't.  It's impossible because our emotions rise and fall, based on circumstance and the essence of our humanity.  God's love is constant.  It is the same, Yesterday, Today, and Forever.  He loved us when we didn't know him, at the times when we kicked and screamed with rage against him, at the times when we doubted and turned away, at the times we couldn't understand how the experiences we were going through would make us stronger in the end.  He must ache sometimes.  Ache the way I do to hold my child, only even more than I can fathom.  Ache when we reject His love.  Peace did settle over my heart, as I prayed, that God would help us to be a mirror of that love.  For Isabel surely, when she perhaps rejects us at first because she can't possibly know or understand our love, but also for those we encounter from day to day.  Those who don't yet know the love of my Jesus, who already loves them and patiently waits with arms open wide for them to come into the shelter He has built for them.

God is teaching us so many things along this journey.  But I still ache.  I still love her with the exact same fierce passion I feel when I look into the eyes of my sons.  I so long to be near her, perhaps explaining why I burst into tears while staring at the cold red brick of the Post Office.  It's just too much at times.

This. Is. Really. Hard.

Care Package #3: For our little princess:  I made an album with our pictures and hers throughout, maybe seeing us all together will help things click.  I put a few shiny bracelets and a pink dress inside a little back pack from Brave (my fave Princess flick!) Yes it all fit flat in the ziploc...I just forgot to take a pic of it!