Happy (late) birthday, Aaron!

As we celebrated our risen Savior yesterday, our family also celebrated the birth of our first son. Nineteen years ago, God gifted us with our second Maundy Thursday baby, the second time in two years that we spent Easter in a newborn haze. So I love when the calendar rolls around so that one of our two spring babies gets to celebrate life on Easter! (Yes, spring is a busy birthday time at our house!)

Although a day late, I wanted to say happy birthday to my buddy, my little man who now towers above me! We couldn’t be more proud of the man he is becoming. It’s all by the grace of God. We love you, Aaron! 

21

My daughter turns 21 today. It isn’t that this makes me feel old, knowing I birthed my first child over two decades ago. It really doesn’t. In so many ways, I still feel 21 myself, even though I know I’m much older than that. :) 

So why is it that I’ve been ignoring this milestones birthday for my eldest child? I’m not sure, exactly. But whatever my hidden angst over my daughter’s birthday, I can truly say that I am amazed at all God has done in and through her. I never imagined when I held that little girl in my arms so very long ago—with her wailing to be out of my arms!—that the Lord would use her to effect such lasting change in my own faith and character. And I never imagined how tight a hold she would gain on my heart. 

I love you, baby girl! Enjoy your  21^st birthday!

Birthday Blessings

I used to get all worked up about birthdays. The first spiral of angst would involve the fact that my years were inching upward. I was so distraught the year I turned 20. I thought my life was over! 29 was another bad one, just the anticipation of the following year of 30. 

As I fretted over my life slipping away, I also worried that I wouldn’t be celebrated on my birthday. That no one would make me feel special. That I wouldn’t feel loved. Validated. Remembered. My expectations skyrocketed, leaving those around me trembling that they wouldn’t do enough or wouldn’t do it right, that I’d fly off the handle, tossing out accusations that had no basis in reality.

Thankfully, the Lord worked on those things and I’ve been in a whole new place for about ten years. No longer do I lament the rising number on my birthday cake. Nor do I have any expectations for celebrations of any kind, for I know the people that love me love me every day, not just one day a year. And I know that the celebration of my birthday is really my own personal celebration of Jesus, who knew me before the foundation of the world, who gave me breath and life, who made me a new creation, and who is even now working in me to will and to do His good pleasure.

But a funny thing has happened in that place of contentment over birthdays. The celebrations--big and small--have become so much sweeter than when I depended on them to fulfill an empty place in me. Now I cry when my friends lavishes on me a gift I didn’t expect. Or another friend spends time choosing something a token that shows how well she knows me. I could go on and on. Unexpected blessings at every turn, raining down and soaking me in the way I’d always desired, but no longer need. Because my God is good like that. 

The Final Seventeen

I haven’t been a terribly sentimental mother. I don’t get teary-eyed when my kids move from one stage to the next. But then again, I haven’t enjoyed any stage so far as much as I’ve enjoyed the high school years— although so far the college ones are looking to be a very close second. 

But today my baby boy turns 17, and it hurts my heart just a little bit. Why 17? I think because it goes along with that junior year, which I’ve always told my kids is the best year of high school. (Out of the doldrums of being the “younger” ones, but not yet completely into the pressure of choosing a college or of being conscious of every “last” of the senior year.) 

17 seems to have put behind it much of the drama of the early teens. It has been driving for 2 years— one with an adult, one on its own. 17 is just shy of the I-don’t-need-you-because-I-know-everything stage of 18-21. (Of course you can enjoy those years when you don’t see them on a daily basis!) All in all, 17 has been a bit idyllic with my kids, or maybe I have just seen it that way. 

So as this last year of 17 begins, I feel a little sad. This time next year we’ll say good-bye to 17-year-olds forever. We’ll be the parents of three adults. A good, new place to look forward to, but with a twinge of nostalgia for the days that were 17. 

Happy Birthday, Mr. Man!

I knew this baby was special the minute he arrived in the world, with his round face and—gasp!—blond hair. Add the blue eyes and dimples and he was irresistible. He grew into a stocky, serious toddler, then a tall, lanky teenager with a very dry wit. He’s the one who takes care of us all—and the one we all adore.

Today he turns 18. Happy birthday, Mr. Man!

Happy Birthday, Baby Girl!

Can it be twenty years already since I first welcomed a baby into the world? Apparently so, for my daughter turns 20 today.

I’m so proud of all she is becoming and I’m so thankful that the Lord used her in my “becoming” process, too. For truly we have grown up together. I wouldn’t be who I am today without the experience of parenting her—of loving her, disciplining her, falling on my knees to plead with God on her behalf. I can now embrace the choosing of Joy as her middle name, for she is a joy to watch as she follows hard after the Lord and after her dreams.

Happy birthday, baby girl! You are very much loved!

Happy Birthday to My Husband!

I met him when he was 19 years old, a confident college junior with plans to attend law school and practice constitutional law. A dreamer wanting to change the world.

Today he turns 45, has been practicing law for twenty years, and after nineteen years of pro bono constitutional work, his favorite branch of the law is now his full-time job. And he still wants to change the world.

His hair is graying a bit—and thinning—though he won’t admit to either. He’s battled eye issues for a year and isn’t as fit as he knows he should be. But he’s a more sensitive and compassionate man than that brash 19-year-old. He loves the Lord and his family more deeply than ever. And he serves others with joy and without complaint.

Happy birthday to my sweet husband. I look forward to many, many more years of loving you.