Nan is SEVEN!

 

Nan Louise,

I never really know where to begin these letters because I am always a little bit shocked that it is time to write one again. Didn’t I just finish your six-year-old letter? Your three-year-old letter? Didn’t they just lay you, fresh and wet and warm, on my chest? But no. Today marks seven years since that important moment, so I sit here with a new page open wondering how to capture you—our silly, helpful, wild Nanny Lou—into words on a page.

I am currently comfy in a hammock, the sweet April breeze making the sunshine feel just perfect. And I am thinking about what you will one day do with all these letters. When will you read them? What will they mean to you? Who will you be when you fold back their pages and unlock the key to who you were at this very specific moment in time? I know you’re going to grow into a uniquely beautiful young woman, and what you have to offer this world is going to be so fun to see unfold. But right now your dad and I have often said that we just want to bottle you up and keep your spunk and spirit and joy and light of who you are right now. In short: who you are at age 7, Nan, is nothing short of an absolute delight.

You’re currently finishing up first grade, and you have loved this year. You’ve grown as a reader, and now you are so excited to start to read your very own chapter books. You’ve also grown as a friend. When I asked you at the beginning of the year who your friends were, you listed 14 people as your “very best friends,” and then you said… “oh yeah! And me too! I am my own friend, too!” While I don’t get to watch you in the classroom or at recess, I know you make the most of every moment. I recently asked about one of your “best friends” and your response was very telling of how you view those in your life: “Mom. She’s just perfect.” You love people hard and your teacher frequently tells me how much fun she has had having you in her class (I used to be her teacher, and she was pretty fun too! So you’re a great match!)

You, Nan, are the best helper a mom could ask for. If I say there is a job that needs done, I can always count on your to be the first one to jump on it and stick with it. Whether it’s picking up sticks in the yard, folding clothes, or cleaning a bathroom, you are eager to help. You also notice when someone needs something without prompting, which is a beautiful gift God has given you. Just the other evening your dad laid down on the floor to close his eyes a bit after supper. Without anyone saying anything, you found a sweatshirt in the room and brought it over, folded it up, and put it under his head for a pillow. Later that same evening when we walked in the house, the sun was shining just right into the kitchen and revealing a lot of spring-time footprints. You quickly ran and got a rag, wet it down, and began wiping them all away. One night I fell asleep laying in your bed with you and you noticed I had goosebumps and took it upon yourself to cover me up. This isn’t typical, Nan. Not for a 7 year-old and not for a 47-year-old. It is a true gift and allows you to love people in ways that others never see. Thank you for not being afraid of hard work, for always being willing to lend a hand, and for noticing when others need care. 

You sometimes get nervous, or anxious, about things. I wish I could take it away for you, but you are learning how to navigate it well. I’m grateful you always share how you feel, and if you don’t feel comfortable doing something you let me know. I know that takes a lot of courage to communicate sometimes, and I’m proud of you. People who don’t get nervous about things don’t get the opportunity to be courageous as often, and it has been a joy to watch you get to be brave time and time again. Just last week you did something that had been causing you some stress—you came and told us you wanted to try to ride your bike. So your dad jumped right in and on lesson/day TWO you were riding up and down our street as fearless as could be. You may have been a little scared to try, but once you made up your mind you were so brave and quick to learn and quick to say, “Let go!” I know that is how you will face many things in your life—you may face them at your own pace, but once you’re ready you will be ALL IN. Swimming was the same way last summer. One day you decided you could go off the diving board and you never looked back. I know a lot of things make you nervous, but getting to watch you be brave it a true joy as your parent.

Your brother cannot wait, every.single.day, for you to get home from school because he knows, without a doubt, that you’ll play with him. Even if you don’t feel like. Even if you’re tired. Even if there is something else you’d rather do. You always will make time to play cars or build a ramp or play puppies with him, and he adores you for it. You are a wonderful sister. I actually have to have conversations with you frequently because you give things up too easily just to make your siblings happy. If you get a special treat at school, you will wait until you get home so you can divide it evenly and share it. If you’re picking something out at a store, you may choose one of your sister’s favorite colors so you can share it with her. I have to remind you that sometimes, it’s okay to eat your own treat or pick something you like. But just like seeing needs and being a helper to meet them, thinking of others and caring about them comes so naturally to you.

You love animals. I don’t know many seven year olds that don’t (I sure didn’t as a seven-year-old though ;) ), but you take any opportunity to be with a neighbor’s dog or cat. We recently helped out some neighbors while they were gone in caring for their golden retrievers. You jumped right in with them, crawling through their tunnel, throwing them balls, scratching their ears. I couldn’t help but smile as your golden hair blew in the breeze, exactly matching their coats. You’ve begged and begged for a pet of your own, but know that a puppy will probably never be in the cards (again) for you because of me. You’ve enjoyed your little betta fish you got for Christmas, but still wanted something more. It was so fun to surprise you with picking out a kitten for your birthday. This is a huge act of love from your non-cat-loving parents, but seeing how you care for others, we know you’ll be the best cat owner. Plus, it’s fun to blow our kids’ minds from time to time, and you were so surprised you didn’t say a word for awhile! Finally, after most of the day was gone, you said, "I THINK I AM JUST IN A DREAM! This can't be real life that I am going to have a cat!" 

Nan, you have always kept us on our toes. Whether it’s laughing about something you’ve said, watching a dance burst out of you, hearing you laugh, or, like recently, CUTTING YOUR FINGER WITH A MASSIVE KNIFE WHILE CUTTING A PIECE OF BREAD (!!!!), it’s never a dull moment while you’re around. You still say the funniest things, like when you sneezed while reading and said, "I just Bless You-d all over this book!" Or when my friend came over to show us her new puppy, and you determined we should go in the back yard because "it's more playful and stickish back there!" You say things like "I'm snuffy" or "My stummy is hungry." And once you were sitting on PopPop's lap and looked at him and said, "You have a lot of wrinkles... are you going to die soon?" He told you he had at least a few more years, then asked if you'd be sad. You said, "No. I'll still have Nini.... and pictures of you." You still wear your emotions one-hundred-percent on your sleeve (it doesn’t feel like a movie night if you don’t have tears streaming down your face at some point). You truly have the biggest heart and you’re such an important part of our family. I really thought we would be a family of four, and then your dad was insistent that we have more children. I am so grateful he led the way in that, because I cannot imagine our house without your redhead in it.

You still don’t have the teeth that you had to get pulled at age three, you weigh a little bit of nothing, your energy-tank is always full, and you are a friend to all. We're currently reading a book called "Astrid the Unstoppable" and she is referred to as "the little thunderbolt" and it often talks about her red curly hair as her "lion's mane"-- I am picturing you every time we read about her adventures, my little thunderbolt. God knew exactly who our number three child would be, and I am so glad it was you. We pray you look to Christ all your days, and shine his light brightly in this world.

And like I have ended every birthday letter: We hope you understand the why behind our no-s. We hope you feel safe in the boundaries we set. We hope you feel freedom in the wide open places we leave for you. We hope you see God in our actions and in our words. We hope when you leave our little home for good and go out on your own that you'll look back on this simple little life we had together-- chaos and mistakes and messes and all-- and see that it was grace that held us together; that you see that it was God's daily bread that provided it all.

 Nan Louise, happy SEVENTH birthday! There is nothing you could ever do that could make us stop loving you.

 

 

 

Blythe is ELEVEN!

 

Blythe,

As I sit here and watch the foggy, springtime mist roll through outside, I am thinking back to the spring you were born. It was already bursting with color, warm and green. The  new calves were tripping over their wobbly legs in the pastures as we drove to the hospital. I think of that often when I remember that time: how when I looked outside it was just halcyon days. But the reality was, bringing you home and becoming a mom-- physically, mentally, spiritually, in every way-- was so very difficult for me. I would look at your big brown eyes that seemed nearly too big for your teeny, perfectly round head, and wonder how I would ever manage to keep on doing all of it. 

And now you're 11. Eleven! And when I think back to those days I still remember the hardness of them, but it's funny because the bursting-forth-spring that was just outside our windows at that time seem to creep into the inside of those memories too. And now I know why: because it was you. You were our spring that God was bringing into our lives. You were the one that he was going to use to make dead things come alive and turn brown grass a brilliant green. You were the one that would teach us so much, as our first born.

I often wonder, when I see a tulip bulb erupting through the dirt, pushing its green leaves defiantly into the still-chilly grayness of March, if it knows the risk it's taking. Does that little flower think about how an early morning frost could snap its shoots, stunt its growth? Or does it just turn its face towards the sun and keep marching forward, hoping in the promise of warmer days? This may seem like a weird way to start your birthday letter, but I guess what I am trying to say, Blythe, is you and I have grown together these 11 years, and watching you experience life has made me less hesitant to throw out my own green shoots, even when I don't know if a frost will hit. Because you've shown me the joy of producing a flower is always worth the risk.

I know every year there is growth, but physically you have really shot up this year (and I know you will probably do that again this year!). I could hardly keep you in shoes as your foot just seems to keep sprouting. Your favorite thing to wear this year every day was a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Even though you have draws full of super cute clothes, the more comfy the t-shirt, the better. You still love to wear your cowboy boots but I think that's just because they require no work to pull on (you are the s l o w e s t at putting on your shoes! ha!). Actually.... you're pretty slow moving at most things you do. Most of the time I don't mind much, because it's just a result of how laid back you are. In a book I read this year an author described his daughter in a way that I thought explained you perfectly: You're wonderful to be on vacation with (great for conversation and slowing the pace), but painful to get out the door in the morning! ;) 

Speaking of conversations, your dad and I just adore getting to chat with you... and so do others. So often I'll get a text from someone at church, or a teacher, or friend, and they'll say something along the lines, "I just love Blythe. She's so fun to talk to!" And you are. You are personable with others and can carry on conversations in ways a lot of kids your age cannot. You're also incredibly knowledgeable about a hundred different things, so I never quite know where the conversation will lead! This comes, primarily from your love for reading. You read voraciously! You usually have 3-4 books going at one time, unless you're really immersed in a series you love. You like a good novel (who doesn't?!), but you also are currently really enjoying a lot of historical fiction, which has really expanded your understanding of so many cool events in the past. 

When you're not reading, you like to write, too. I have several drafts of stories you've started on the computer, and when I recently did a deep clean of your room I found notebook after notebook just scrawled all over-- some with outlines for entire book ideas. If they weren't plot lines or stories, they were drawings of inventions or games you wanted to create. Your creativity is astounding, and how you just jump in with both feet when you get an idea to make sometime is so fun to watch. I hope you never lose the spark to think outside the box. You're constantly making games for your siblings, or creating "monster truck worlds" for Sloan. You're a great oldest sibling for lots of reasons, but your creativity may top the list! 

You have recently started loving basketball, too. You got to play in your first league this year and you learned so much. You were timid at first, but you were always confident that you knew the plays and understood the game, because you always listen. Your coach commended you on how "coachable" you are, which is, I think, one of the most important skills any player can possess, because when you're older it usually doesn't matter if you can hit a freethrow, but it will always matter that you can listen and be open to ideas and know how to ask good questions. After the brief season was over, we keep finding you outside shooting, shooting, shooting. One day we even caught you running laps around the house to build up your endurance! Now that "March Madness" has started you are even more into the sport. We've loved watching you stick with things you weren't initially great at (layups), and become better and better. You also still seem to like to golf, and you are hoping to get back on the course with your dad this summer. 

A couple other new things you tried this year were hunting with a crossbow and a triathlon. You gave each a 10/10 review, except maybe that the bike seat got uncomfortable during mile two and three. Watching you race in the triathlon just brought the biggest smile to our faces-- your dad loved watching you do something he enjoys, obviously, but beyond that we just loved getting to watch you jump in to something brand new with your typical Blythe-attitude: "Why not?!" You swam like an absolute pro, smiled and waved when you passed us on the bike, and then found a new friend to chat with while you both decided to just walk the mile "run." Such Blythe moves, all of them! Ha. You decided you wanted to try it again this year, but said you maybe want to "train" a little bit before hand so you can actually run. 

As for hunting, we have discovered it is about the only thing that you don't mind waking up early to do (You have found a deep, deep love for sleeping in! That's my girl!). But in the woods with Papa, you don't mind being a little sleepy, bundling up against the fall-chill, and waiting patiently for a deer you may never see. You did get one exciting experience, where a pretty big buck quickly came by. You were drawn and read and he caught scent and ran. You said you only need one more second to get a good site and pull the trigger. You and Papa were both so wound up after that hunt, and you named the buck "December" and for Christmas drew a picture of it for Papa so you could remember that hunt. Even though it wasn't "successful" by most standards, I think you both found it very rewarding. 

You're still a picky eater, still love to play piano, still get to laughing so hard you fall over sometimes. In a few weeks you have to have 8 teeth removed to make way for some adult teeth and prep for braces in a couple of years. You're on the verge of so much, and can see it in you often. A pre-teen who is still a kid. A kid who is a pre-teen. It's a wild place to process things. And just like I talked about at the beginning of this letter, we're still growing in this together. I've never raised a teenager before. You've never been a teenage before. We will mess up. We will try again. And I am so thankful I get to do the entire process with you. 

When I asked you what you wanted for your birthday, you gave me a few ideas (a jump rope, a book... you're SO simple and easy to please), and then you asked: "Can I get dad something for his birthday early though? I want to get him tickets to a Phil Wickham concert that he and I can go to." Ever since you were little, your dad has sang you one of his songs. Over the years you've grown to love his music. So we found the closest concert and you made a card, and on your birthday gifted your dad the tickets. Blythe Kathleen, I love your heart. You pay attention to what other people like and you want to experience it with them. You don't require fancy things, but would rather just have quality time with someone. 

You're favorite color is red, you would eat Ramen for every meal if I let you, you want to shave the side of your head and have a funky hairstyle, you are a phenomenal friend, you are a wonderful student, you are a joyful and fun daughter. Not every moment is awesome-- we've had to have a lot of heart to hearts lately as you've struggled with patience and understanding with one of your younger siblings-- but most of the time you are exactly like the season you were born into: sunny springtime, bursting with new life, a respite from winter. Thank you for everything you are to our family. 

And now, Blythe Kathleen, I look in your still very large brown eyes, and I no longer wonder how I will manage to keep doing all of it... I wonder how we got to age 11 so quickly and I wonder how I will feel in seven short more years where most of the doing of it all is behind me. Thank you for flipping this script for me. Your newborn days were hard, hard, hard for me... but you were a light in the midst of them. You've kept holding my hand in this parenting gig, showing me how to have joy in the heartaches, to embrace the outside-the-box things, and how to keep trying new things. For you, Blythe, I would keep doing it all...forever. 

We pray you keep looking to Jesus for all of your days-- studying scripture, praying for the Spirit to fill you with love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. We pray you continue to bring light to darkness, as we see you do every day. We pray you know you can mess up, and still be covered in grace. And like I have ended every birthday letter: We hope you understand the why behind our no-s. We hope you feel safe in the boundaries we set. We hope you feel freedom in the wide open places we leave for you. We hope you see God in our actions and in our words. We hope when you leave our little home for good and go out on your own that you'll look back on this simple little life we had together-- chaos and mistakes and messes and all-- and see that it was grace that held us together; that you see that it was God's daily bread that provided it all. 

Blythe Kathleen, happy ELEVENTH birthday! There is nothing you could ever do that could make us stop loving you.