Happy Birthday, Harry!!!

Harry Beau,

Today is your 4th birthday and oh my goodness has it been fun to walk these last few weeks with you. I think this year may be the first one that you understand what’s going on and the anticipation that has been building in your precious self has basically spilled over today. You have proven yourself to be most kind and generous with your sister, since her birthday comes first and you have been such a great little

Hype man as she waited for her day alongside you. But today is your day and we are so excited to celebrate you (as well as all the Easter festivities and rejoicing!)

You are just the sweetest little human these days. We’ve turned your car seat around and I don’t know if you’ve always talked non stop in the car, but your voice now fills the car from the minute we open the door. You notice everything. You observe and deduce and I love hearing you work through how this world works - some of your assumptions are brilliant, if not slightly askew.

You have officially entered the “does this ________ make me fast?” stage and I have to say, I’m here for it. Do those clunky crocs that look like Lightning McQueen make you fast? You bet, son! Do you need different fast shoes for riding scooters than for running in the yard with your sister? Absolutely! Do your pants with the hole in the knee slow you down? For sure! Are you allowed to be so fast in the house? No sir, you are not.

Your demeanor is such that pretty much everyone falls instantly and madly in love with you. I thought for a while when you were smaller that you would outgrow the endless grinning, but honestly, it’s what the world needs these days and I think God saw fit to make sure it stays. When I asked you about your friends at school, you gave me the cutest nicknames. When I asked if you had a nickname, your eyes disappeared under the weight of your grin and you said “I’m, Sweet Harry” and let’s be honest, no truer words have been spoken about you my dear boy. I can’t wait to see what your charm and giant heart do for the Kingdom of God as you grow and mature in your love for your Good Father.

Now that you’re 4, you get to finally start playing all the sports you’ve been begging to play. I’m not ready for the ways that will make my heart melt. And I don’t think your daddy is ready for the challenge of teaching your basically left-handed self. But that’s ok, because I know you will be gracious and joyful through it all.

So, my dear boy, I pray that you will continue to spread happiness wherever you go. And that as you learn more about the ways God loves you, that the huge heart He has gifted you (and us!) with, would explode for His kingdom.

Happy 4th Birthday, little man. We love you!

Mama& Daddy

Happy Birthday Audrey!

Audrey Nole,

Today you are 9 years old. You’ve been counting down for weeks and we’ve all finally made it: You’re 9 and you feel so big. Sometimes we get glimpses of you feeling little, but mostly, you just seem like a not-so-miniature teenager or adult. It’s been really fun to watch you figure out your interests and gain confidence in who you are. You’ve performed in 2 musicals this year: The Jungle Book and Finding Nemo and you were such a joy to watch. You bring light to every space you occupy, including the stage.

You are a kind friend and cast mate. You are an excellent student, except for when it comes to doing your math homework. You are constantly creating, whether it be art or stories or performances. Your brain is always coming up with ways to spark delight in those around you.

You’ve made your dad and I so proud of the way you live out Jesus’ love towards your friends. You are truly a joy to send out into this world because we know that the world will be made better for having you in it.

I can’t wait to see what this next year holds for you and for us. You’re becoming a very beautiful young lady and it is our pleasure and treasure to call you daughter.

We love you. Happy Birthday!

Love,

Mama & Daddy

9 Years in Heaven

I just put little man down for his nap and the house is quiet. Big sister is at school, the sun is shining, and by some miracle, the dogs aren’t even being whiny. There is a good chance that the next 2 hours will be wholly mine - a space to reflect, to grieve, to cry if necessary, during an otherwise busy life where the hard work of grief can often get brushed under the rug until space is made or something falls apart. This quiet, on this day, is an enormous gift. How deep the Father’s love for us, How vast beyond all measure…. If you continue on in that hymn, the verse says “that he would give his only Son, to make a wretch his treasure” Today, in my sun-filled living room, I feel like his treasure - even amongst excruciating loss.

9 years ago we said goodbye to my sweet mama. Well, we said see ya later, because I fully intend to meet her in heaven when God calls me home. It hasn’t been the most fun or happy or wonderful 9 years. There have been lots of firsts and plenty of hard. Each of us who lost her has felt the pain of it differently and specifically in each new season or start/end of an adventure. Weddings and babies. Graduations. Home purchases. Parenting. Even the relationships with each other. Because if you knew my mama, you know that she was a joyful (and sometimes crazy) glue that brought and held together so many broken people. I’m often amazed at how good she was at being the matriarch of our family. How her intense desire for family outwit all obstacles in her path. She trudged forward in pursuit of a Jesus centered, family centric community for her children - and our eventual spouses and families. We are spread all across the country, and yet we are close as ever. Aligned along that Jesus line that she worked so diligently to weave into our family story.

I’m sorrowful today, because the hole she left in our family is one we cannot patch or fill. But, thanks be to God, today I am not wrecked. I miss that woman more moments of more days than I even probably realize, but I’m held together and sustained by a God who is making all things new.

So as I remember her on this day, I’m so incredibly grateful for the effort and priority she placed on pointing her kids toward Jesus. Because knowing that at any moment today or any day, there will be dozens of texts exchanged and laughter shared, from our 4 corners of the earth, makes this grief and this day so much less lonely. I know that God is sitting with me in it. His provision is unmatched. His kindness in sharing this day with my siblings and their spouses is the kind of thing that makes a wretch feel like a treasure. Praise the Lord for his goodness and mercy.

Another Birthday has Come and Gone

Another birthday has come and gone. Another year in the calendar that flew by. I even found myself doing the math over and over. He can’t really be 7, can he? Has that much life really happened? Because in so many ways, it feels like I was sitting in that dark NICU room as the nurses took his body and placed it back in the bed. I don’t even remember what that looked like. My heart had been ripped out of my body and my adrenaline was fading. I kissed that sweet boy for the last time, and then I made the long walk back to my hospital room. I kissed Adam and Audrey goodnight as they went home (to normal life, because what else do you do after the worst day ever?) and then climbed in the bed and just… I don’t know actually. I think I cried. I probably threw out a few f bombs. My nurse didn’t quite know what to do… and then I wrote the words that would share my grief, my anguish, with all the people that had been praying for our miracle.

“Our sweet George Mason has gone to be with Jesus. His life on this earth was short but he has impacted so many people and will forever be remembered as a fighter with attitude. He has showed more people about Gods love than most of us could even dream of reaching. His fight for life in the womb was an inspiration to myself and Adam and we are so grateful to have gotten 38 weeks to learn about his personality and 16 hours to enjoy his sweet smile.

His big sister got to snuggle with him and he passed very peacefully in the arms of his parents. We have very heavy hearts tonight but we are so very thankful for a Lord who will see us through this. A Lord who will give us the strength to get through each day. A Lord who loves our little boy more than we could have ever imagined.

We love you George Mason, you will forever hold a special piece of our hearts. “

Those words popped up in my memories on Facebook this weekend. I haven’t read them in years. I had no idea when I wrote them what it would be like to live without him. I didn’t know what I meant when I said that we were thankful for a Lord “who will see us through this” because in that moment I couldn’t have fathomed what strength would be provided to survive each and every morning. But man, did He show up. Through the tears and the anger, through the pain of c-section recovery, through the soft toddler hand on my back as I cried “it’s ok mama, I miss Joooge” too”

I’m thankful that people around me in those early days encouraged me to write. I’ve shared most of what I’ve written publicly, but there has been healing even in the words that never leave my notebook. It has been my cries for help, for strength, for understanding. It has been my hope as I look back at all the ways he has answered prayers. The ways that people have showed up, loved on, and walked with us through this journey of motherhood to a child in heaven and to children on earth.

This year’s birthday was really really hard. I didn’t want to face that it was here again. I struggled with how to celebrate and even how to mourn. I don’t know what a 7 year old boy would like. I don’t know what he would be in to, what he would look like or act like. I can’t imagine his personality like I have in years prior. This year it just felt like a big huge gaping hole of “things you don’t know about your son for $400, please”

So I started and ended my day with tears. I sobbed in the shower, over my coffee, in my leftover pizza, and over the snickers pie that we made. My living kids blew out the 7 candle and I held back tears because that was easier than letting them loose… because it would have been hard to recover. 7 years old. I really can’t believe it’s been that long and then it also somehow feels so much longer. It is my prayer that no matter how hard his birthdays can get, that I will always allow myself to sit in the grief and process. I pray I never run away from the hard parts of his story, because the healing and growth that has come from them are quite mind blowing. The reliance on my Savior is real. I cannot live out the rest of my days without His strength and His refuge from the harshness of this broken world.

”See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him. Dear friends, now we are children of God, and what we will be has not yet been made known. But we know that when Christ appears, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is. All who have this hope in him purify themselves, just as he is pure.“

‭‭1 John‬ ‭3‬:‭1‬-‭3‬

Tomorrow is George’s Day

Tomorrow is George’s day. I’ve had so many things on my mind and to do list these last few weeks, that I’ve pretty much stifled any feelings or anticipation. It’s easier that way, most times. But whether or not I’m ready, February 10 always arrives and leads us into February 11th and then all the rest of the 365 days that make up a year.

I’ve struggled a lot this year with facing his day. I haven’t wanted to think about it much. Heck, it’s tomorrow and I haven’t even gonna grocery shopping for dinner or birthday supplies. I just haven’t been able to bring myself to give anything beyond moments of consideration to it.

But tomorrow won’t wait. And because my God is a good God, he has brought people around me in this season and in the many that have led up to it, to take off the mental load. To plan for dinner or to send a text remembering our sweet boy. To check in on me, on us, as we face this day. Because it’s not all bad. Grief is here because we lost someone we love, but it wouldn’t have been lost love if there hadn’t been love in the first place. And that, my dear friends, is the greatest gift God has given us apart from our salvation.

”If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.“

‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭13‬:‭1‬-‭13‬ ‭NIV‬‬

64...

Today she would be 64. It’s been a day like most any day. Full of parenting responsibilities and my typical couple of hours in the car. It has felt entirely normal - except for an inexplicable fatigue. Just barely making it through the day.  And then I looked at the calendar…

I’ve been waiting for this day for weeks. Dad’s birthday was 2 weeks ago. Text him, and then the countdown is on. Two weeks. Fourteen days. Life happens. It goes on, because the world doesn’t stop spinning and my heart doesn’t stop beating even though the calendar says it’s a rough day. Its entirely unfair and yet it is what it is.

I’ve learned in almost 9 years, that this is just how it goes. You prepare your mind and your heart for the days that are supposed to be rough. They always are, but never as much as you think. You also know, either by experience or just intuitively (or possibly both) that time heals so many wounds. So today, on her 64th birthday, she’s in heaven and I’m carrying the weight of missing her - almost unexpectedly.

Each day that passes, each birthday that we celebrate without her, is just one day closer to my own entrance into eternity; family reunion at the pearly gates?! It makes it both easier and harder: to know that this life is fleeting, both because I’ve taken a science class or two, but because I’ve watched close loved ones leave this earth. I held my mom’s hand in March of 2015 and told her it was ok to go home. I sat and watched as we waited for her last breath. Each one a bit of a surprise, as they grew further apart and shallower with each passing moment. I thought that day was going to be the hardest day of my life. It was, until 2 years later in February I had to do the same thing with my son. This broken world can be so cruel sometimes.

So even though today has been pretty normal as far as life goes, today (and every day for that matter) is anything but normal. Its a reminder of what is lost - to me, to my siblings, to my dad, to my kids, to my siblings’ kids… Audrey was doing an examination of a poem earlier this week and she was trying to explain what it meant to her. The poem was about a mountain sitting high above the plains - and as she talked about what this poem stirred in her, she said it meant hope. Because memories are created (in this case at a special place like this mountain) and even when the rocks crumble, you hold on to the legacy and you never forget. And then she said, “Like my Grammy. I never knew her, but I know her”

I wish on so many levels that she had been able to meet my mama. Vicki Vincent loved big and hard. She would have been the most amazing grandma and would have cherished that role for however long she was blessed to own it. She never met Audrey… but Audrey is so much like her, its as if God left a small piece of Vicki for this generation to know and love.

Happy Birthday, Mama. I hope that you’re rejoicing with a chorus of angels and I hope that your hands are still high in the air as you sing every note off key. Boy, do I miss you.

To Him Who is Able…

I don’t get to see sunsets from my house anymore. Honestly, I don’t get to see many sunsets in general these days. They always seem to be during those moments where motherhood or housekeeping call most readily. Mix that with a tree lined property along the west facing windows of my kitchen, and the sun usually disappears from view by mid-afternoon; even though it’s light and warmth linger much later.

I miss the days of feeling God so closely in the sunsets as I rocked babies to sleep or cleaned up the last remnants of long Utah summer days. But God knew that. And when we moved to Tennessee He gave me a front porch perfect for viewing the most incredible sunrises. Over the trees that line road, peeps the most saturated orange and pinks, purples and navy. As the sun wakes the sky, my porch gets a front row seat and my heart feels the exact same nearness of God that it always has when the days have come to a close.

Todays sunrise was almost blinding as it pierced the darkness with an orange-turned-magenta that I’m not sure I’ve ever seen before. And as I closed up my prayer journal, the view of that hot pink and orange sky poked through the leaded glass of my front door and drew me immediately out to take it all in. Never mind the cold or the pajamas - that sky was for me. It was a precious gift from the Lord; the God who loves me deeply and cares for me, even when it feels like he’s far away. A reminder that he isn’t far away, but instead, right here with me in the midst of the chaos and decay of this sinful world. In the depths of the hurts and pains and sorrows, he sits with me. He foreordained this life. There’s nothing he hasn’t laid into place and allowed. There’s nothing to fear and no troubles he will not surmount.

I needed that reminder today. That no matter what I am facing, God is near. Much like the sun that hides behind the western trees yet still provides light and warmth, my God is near and still provides refuge and strength. New mercies every morning.

I’ve been studying the book of Jude. It’s such a short book - 25 verses. But it starts and ends with a reminder to its readers of who they are to God and who God is and always has been. One of the things that has stood out to me has been His able-ness. You see, I’ve always been told and come to know, that God keeps his promises. That what he has laid out for us in salvation and the following sanctification, he is going to follow through with and make good on. His coupon of redemption is not a fraud. It’s real. It’s bought and paid for. It’s legit. But in the final 2 verses of Jude, after he reminded his audience of the battles they were already beginning to fight, he ends by lifting praise:

“Now to him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you blameless before the presence of his glory with great joy, to the only God, our Savior, through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, dominion, and authority, before all time and now and forever. Amen.”

‭‭Jude‬ ‭1‬:‭24‬-‭25‬ ‭

To him who is able… God didn’t just SAY he created the heavens and the earth. He didn’t just SAY that he sent his son to save us. He didn’t just SAY that he was the beginning and the end. He WAS. He IS. He ALWAYS WILL BE. He followed through and did it - will do it. He didn’t just make promises to gain followers and then ask you to give your credit card information, your first born, and your mother’s maiden name. No, he made promises and then kept them, because he is ABLE.

I have never felt more convicted and simultaneously comforted by a single word as I did when I read that. God is keeping me from stumbling. He is presenting me blameless (without sin! what?!). In the presence of his glory and with great JOY. He loves us and cares for us that much. Ouch. I don’t even have enough will power to do motherhood or marriage with great joy every day - and yet God is over here sacrificing his own son so that he can save me.

There is a new battle starting in our family. One that I may or may not share the details of in time, but I’m thankful for the Word that can carry me into the fight - because I would most certainly land straight on my face, to be devoured by the tricks and lies of the enemy without Him who is able.

Happy 3rd Birthday, Harry Beau!

Harry Beau,

Today is your 3rd birthday and what a sweet day it is! You are now, and have always been, one of the most jubilant people on the planet. Your smile takes up your entire face and your eyes completely disappear - you almost glow when you begin to grin. It’s a gift to all who know you.

Your life started in a weird age. One of isolation and fear, but God knew what He was doing and you are so perfectly fearless and outgoing. You’ve actually never met a stranger and call all humans your friends. Whether we are at the grocery store, the park, or any place in between, if there are other people there, you will assume they are your friends and you will treat them as such; the kindness and willingness to spread big love that comes from such a small body, is one we should and could all be jealous of.

You’ve got a wild curiosity about you. Everything is “what’s this?” and “where’d that come from?” You are bold in most situations and even climbed right up in the dentist chair like you owned the place, despite never having done that before. You surprise people often with your willingness to try all sorts of things. And you scare me a bit when you attempt stunts that even your big sister is hesitant about. You got a swing set for your birthday and as Daddy and I were talking about what types of swings to include, we both agreed that you’d be “big boy swinging” in no time. It’s hard to believe, but it’s definitely true.

You LOVE Mickey Mouse and your first trip to Disney World was this year. It was a wonderful success. When you saw Mickey in our hotel, I think you could have gone home and considered the trip perfect. But when you realized how fun it was to ride all the things, you couldn’t get off one ride fast enough to run to another. You are most certainly a thrill junky!

You’ve taken quite well to Tennessee this year. You even have the slightest hint of a southern twang when you talk. It’s going to be so fun to watch your speech and vocabulary grow - and see if the south rubs off on you more or less than your Floridian mama. Just this morning you were running around the yard barefoot and shirtless in the “beast cape” that you got for your birthday. A blue velvet cape and a bright yellow dump truck was the perfect image of who you are these days. Too bad my phone was completely MIA and there is no visual record of any of it.

Your daddy and I are looking forward to what this next year brings to you and are so thankful for the gift of joy that you have been to us and this world. We pray that you will grow to be a strong and tender hearted man of God and that the joy with which you came into this world would never be burnt out of you. That your light would continue to shine bright for the Lord and that when the day comes and you have a family, that you can lead and shepherd them with humility and grace. Happy Birthday, little man. We love you!

Love,

Mama & Daddy

Happy 8th Birthday, Audrey Nole!

Audrey Nole,

Today you are 8 years old and what a wild ride it has been. You constantly amaze your daddy and I with your creativity and big dreams. You are always coming up with ways to do things better or more efficiently. One of these days maybe you’ll have an idea that gets you famous. We can’t wait to cheer you on, either way.

You have the sweetest heart for your friends, are growing more patient with your brother, and are just generally a delightful little lady. It makes my mama heart proud when other people talk about you. God is shining bright through your smile and tender heart.

Over the last year you have discovered “Bewitched” and it’s so fun to watch with you and hear your takes on what life was like “back in the olden times” like you always tell me. Your Grammy sure would love to have watched Samantha twitch her nose with you. I hope you get that rotary phone that you think is all the rage on day! It’s also just so nostalgic to put myself back into my childhood of watching that very same show with my mama. Something special we can share between multiple generations.

I know that moving to Tennessee last year wasn’t high on your priority list, but you’ve blossomed so beautifully here. Your daddy and I have always told you that God gave you a special gift for making friends and you truly do. You’re doing great and Tennessee looks good on you - even if you do miss the snow.

Daddy and I are so torn between the desire to watch you grow and mature and become a young lady, and wanting you to stay little just a bit longer. That’s the hard part of being a parent, I guess, but we are so thankful for every day that we’ve gotten to call you ours and been granted the privilege of being your mama and daddy. We will continue to pray for you and watch as your heart grows a fire for the Lord and His kingdom. We can’t wait to see what the next year brings and what adventures we will have to add to our storybook of your life. Happy Birthday, Audrey Nole. We love you!

Love,

Mama & Daddy

8 Years in Heaven

Today is the first heavenly birthday for my mama that we aren’t in Utah. I’m not sure if that makes things better or worse or harder or easier or anything, but it’s a reality that I can’t seem to push out of my mind. Perhaps being so close to the place where she took her last breathes made me somehow feel closer to her. Or maybe going to the places that her and I had gone in those months before she died kept a piece of her alive. Maybe it was none of those things, because today hasn’t been any different than years past. Yet, somehow I’m aware.

I think about all the things that she has missed in our lives. The births of 7 grand babies. The death of one. The wedding of her son and in a few months the wedding of the last one. The moves, job changes, life happenings of 4 kids and their families. Even though it’s only been 8 years, it feels like she’s missed the best 8 years; and that makes it the worst.

I’m thankful that her arrival in heaven meant that she isn’t missing all of these things. Her body was made new and whole. It’s those of us who loved her while she was on earth that get the privilege of doing all the missing. Knowing she won’t be here for the big and small things that make up life, that’s hard for me, for us, but it’s not hard for her. She’s in the place that she is meant to be. Hands held high, worshipping her Father, singing Holy, Holy, Holy, with the heavenly hosts. Maybe part of being made new and whole means she’s also no longer off key. But even so, if you knew her while she was alive, can’t you just picture her in worship? That somehow makes today (and every day) a little easier.

Love you Mama.

Happy 6th Birthday, George Mason

Every year, I have tried to be faithful in writing a letter to each of my kids on their birthdays. It started as a way to grieve all the things my sweet mama was missing in her grand daughter’s life. Then it became a way for me to capture the highlights of the year and place them somewhere I wouldn’t lose them (because the internet never loses anything, right?). As time has gone on, and I’ve continued to write, I realize that perhaps my kids will actually read these letters one day. That the moments I took to sit down and remember would actually hold value to more than just myself. I don’t presume to think that any of my offspring will be overtly sentimental, but there is something special about preserving the small details. And so, therefore, I continue to write. Whether they ever get read beyond the day they were written, doesn’t ever seem to particularly matter.

But this year, something is different. I find myself longing to write a birthday letter to George Mason - he would be 6 today - and yet, I’m mostly at a loss for words. Not because I’ve forgotten him or because he’s not worthy of writing about, but because for seemingly the first time, it is very, very hard to consider who he *would* be instead of who he is…

I woke up this morning, after a long week (I’m going to make a mental note that when his day falls on a Friday, I need to be kind to myself for the whole week prior) and looked out the window to catch the last rays of the sunrise. I do this most mornings. It’s calming. Grounding. I can start my day in awe of God’s kindness to us by the way he is so generous with his creativity and majesty. And as I looked out the window, the most brilliantly yellow daffodils lined the walk; in stark contrast to the other February looking landscape. Tennessee has had a wild winter and those little buds came out of the earth far too many weeks early. And yet, despite it being February, despite having an ice storm just last week, the brightest yellow buds were showing off. It was such a perfect display of how this day feels. The grey and brown hues of the end of winter and it’s somber slumber are so starkly contrasted by the green and yellow of the first blooms. There are 365 days in each year, and while all of them hold both heavy grief and live giving love, only this day, February 10th, holds them in such clear display. I weep for what we lost on his day and I rejoice for the hope we have in Jesus as our son’s savior.

We mourn because this world is broken. We miss the little boy who would be 6. We daydream of the could have/should have/would haves of a life known only for 16 hours. And we celebrate, as if he were right here with us - every February 10th, since they first one, has ended with the Happy Birthday song. Every February 10th, we methodically and meticulously decorate a cake. Every February 10th, we get to re live and re love that very first one. Still with such vivid clarity, it both hurts to know it’s been 6 years and also feels like it was only yesterday.

I’m thankful for the little things in our lives that can remind us of him. The unexpected texts from friends near and far, saying his name and remembering his day. The precious ways that Audrey Nole plans out our birthday theme. The curious ways that Harry tries to participate - this year I’m almost positive he thinks we are having a birthday cake for his favorite little monkey, Curious George. I’m thankful for the memories we have made each year as we take the time to create a cake for the little boy whose residence is in heaven. For the ways that it allows my mama heart to serve him and be with him, even if only for a moment or two. I’m thankful for the people in our lives who have come alongside us in this hard part of our story. Who have loved us well. Who have shared and carried the weight of this little boy’s story with us.

George Mason,

Today you would be 6 years old. You would love our yard here in Tennessee, I just know it. You would surely have come up with all the greatest places to play pirates or super heroes. You would probably have thrown more footballs than I can count, both to your daddy and little brother. I think you’d really like Harry. He’s a sweet little man and I think would be such a great sidekick to your 6 year old adventures. You’d also probably be an added layer of annoyance to your big sister’s constant frustrations over not having a sister.

She talks about you all the time. I think more people know about you than I could have even guessed, and it’s only been 6 years. Imagine how many lives will be touched by your story when she is 50?! She really is a gift to this family and you not getting to know her is one of the hardest things for your daddy and I to miss out on.

We took your siblings to Disney World this year and it was so hard not to have you tagging along with us. There are many places that make me wish for you to be here, but that place was particularly hard. Do you think you’d be a Mickey fan like Harry? Or would you be the kid who likes Goofy? I can just see you dressed as Prince Charming or pulling the sword out of the stone and grinning from ear to ear. Your smile would probably be just like Audrey and Harry’s: squinty eyes and lighting up your whole face.

We made you a football cake this year. It was Audrey’s idea, but it’s honestly pretty perfect. I have no doubt you’d be all about watching the Super Bowl with your daddy this weekend and teaching your little bro what all the things your dad yells at the tv about actually means. He would totally adore you and you and daddy and Harry would be the sweetest three musketeers the world has ever known. Happy 6th Birthday, George Mason. You are my favorite middle man.

Mama & Daddy love you forever and always.

Babies Don’t Keep

A little over a week ago, Harry Beau slept in his crib for the very last time. We took it apart, took it out of his room, and in one fell swoop, replaced it with a big boy bed of his very own. Complete with dinosaur sheets that he picked out himself.

There’s an awful lot wrapped up in that short little paragraph. My tiniest human and caboose of our family has outgrown something. Not just a few pairs of pants or some old play clothes, but a rather significant piece of childhood milestones. Our home is officially cribless. I am both delighted (let’s face it, unless you’re over 6 feet tall, placing a child of any size into the bottom of a crib is a balancing act… let alone an almost 3 year old with all the length and weight that comes with it) and sad. In so many ways, Harry Beau still feels like the tiny babe we brought home from the hospital in a world that felt like it was crumbling before us. He has so many of the same mannerisms as he did in those first weeks after we met him. The tightly curled palms as he falls asleep. The grin that goes from ear to ear. The cheeks that envelope his eye balls when even an glimmer of smile starts to show. The way he tilts his chin ever so slightly when he’s pretending to listen to what you’re telling him. He’s still so snuggly and loving. It’s hard to fully wrap my mind around his actually turning 3 in just a few weeks. And yet, here we are with Dino sheets and a twin mattress.

The transition from his crib to his bed has gone alarmingly well. How could I have prepared my heart for him to just be ready? How did my baby suddenly decide it was ok to be big? I know I didn’t tell him… and yet, here we are. Our toddler is in full toddler mode (if only he would get rid of his diapers) and ready to take on the world. Ok, maybe not the world, but at least the square footage of our home’s walls.

It’s so fun to watch your kids grow up and become the tiny versions of the big humans they will eventually embody. It brings with it laughter, worry, prayer upon prayer, and just about every other emotion on the spectrum. Oh Lord, what a gift and a blessing - and also the reason I probably have grey hair - it is to raise these smallest of His saints.

I don’t often remember the details of Audrey’s toddlerhood. So much trauma and grief shadows those years. Perhaps I don’t remember them because it protects my heart from the pain? Or perhaps I don’t remember them because I wasn’t an active participant; more like a warm body that was there but not really? However, there are moments, like when I find a truck or a digger hidden under my pillow, or a family of dinosaurs strewn about the floor of my shower, that I remember this stage with Audrey. With vivid color. The dolls that were delicately placed in all the seats. The dress up costumes that had been on and off and back on again throughout the day, left to be worn again tomorrow on the floor outside the bathroom. Toddlers are a hoot. They are life giving if you’ll let them. They are exhausting too. And they are the most perfect flashing neon sign for our need for Jesus. Because nothing brings out your ill temper better than stepping on a dinosaur tail on your way to yell at your kids for never, ever, cleaning up after themselves. It’s not just me, right?

And when we realize how desperately we, I, need Jesus, I also realize how quickly my time with my kids is disappearing. That one day I’m in the thick of diapers and cribs and naps and sticky hands but in the very next I’m going to be watching them get married and have babies of their own. Suddenly those dinosaur pains fade and the reality of an empty nest (because logically a big boy bed leads to him getting married) gives you the desire to snuggle a little longer after reading those bedtime books.

So yes, it’s been big and celebratory over here, as Mr HB gets all grown up. But it’s also been full of mournful and reflective tears. And lots and lots of extra snuggles.

Visiting Graves

Yesterday, we took the time to visit the cemetery where we buried our sweet George Mason, as we’ve unexpectedly found ourselves in NC for the last week. I always feel so awkward at cemeteries. There’s so many emotions that someone can feel when in that place. I often wonder if I’m feeling the right ones. Am I sad enough? Do I miss this person enough? And I being too emotional? What is that hardening in my throat? Should I cry? Can we leave yet, or is that disrespectful? But Audrey always asks to go and visit her brother’s stone, so we took advantage of being so close, and let her introduce Harry to George Mason’s grave.

If I’m being honest, it’s such a hard thing to describe. My 3 beautiful children will never be together this side of heaven. Audrey and George will never get to gang up on their little brother. Harry and George will never get to gang up on their big sister. The three musketeers will never get to gang up on their parents. But for a few brief minutes, all three of my children can be physically represented - a grave marking the ashes of our middle man and the kind and loving big sister and little brother that place flowers in the vase. It is the strangest feeling. An emotion that I’m not sure even has a word to describe it.

It was cold and rainy yesterday. Almost as if we were in a scene from a movie. The overcast skies made the somberness of the cemetery feel that much more looming. And yet, amongst the graves, were two little children full of life and laughter; and a deep love of a brother they’ve never known. Harry carried the bunches of flowers from the car to the grave and Audrey helped me cull them into an arrangement to place in the vase. We talked only a little about what lie beneath this stone. We took a few pictures and then we walked back to the car. Each of us with dewy eyes, not because we were sad necessarily, but because the weight of sins curse on this world feels heavier somehow when you’re standing in a cemetery. The giant, yet often invisible, hole in our family is much more visible when you’re standing in front of the grave. And as we walked back to the car with 2 kids instead of 3, it was just a lot.

I’m not sure Harry is big enough to remember this for very long. And I know he’s not big enough to understand who this George person is that we talk about, but I’m incredibly thankful for the ways that our family has been supported in remembering and honoring our sweet middle man. Thankful for the people who listen when we say his name. Thankful for friends and family who share their memories of him and say his name. Thankful for the God who loves my family, my whole family. Thankful that we can continue to share our George with those who never knew him, especially his little brother.

“Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth! Serve the Lord with gladness! Come into his presence with singing! Know that the Lord, he is God! It is he who made us, and we are his; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture. Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise! Give thanks to him; bless his name! For the Lord is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness to all generations.”

‭‭Psalm‬ ‭100‬:‭1‬-‭5‬

Back to School

Harry started preschool today. He didn’t even look back as the teacher walked him down the hallway to his classroom. To say he’s excited is an understatement; and he doesn’t even know what school is. But he knows that big sister goes, and so he wants to go too. He almost didn’t let me pack his lunch today because he didn’t want to let go of his “unk bok”… “its aiwee’s unk bok mama” If that doesn’t just make you melt you’re probably the grinch.

His backpack is as big as he is but he insisted on carrying it. He even got mad at Adam when he picked it up to put it in the car. When I say he’s excited, I truly mean it. Now, we still have to see how the first day goes, but I have no doubt it’s gonna be a hit. I’m thankful for the sweet school and their staff who will love on him for a few hours a couple times a week. It feels so much more necessary for him than it did with Audrey, because so much of his life has been lived under the covid cloud.

We’ve made it through all the back to school festivities this year without totally losing our minds - and perhaps even with a new zeal for the year ahead; by the grace of God. This season is a busy one and for sure not the ideal way to jump into homeschooling in a new state… but God continues to provide. Especially when you consider how many times I’ve watched pictures of newly minted kindergartners in their oversized backpacks and grins. Each one tugs at my heart just a bit, yet God is gracious. My sweet George should’ve started kindergarten this year. Can you believe it? Most days I actually can’t. The memories of his day are still so vivid in my mind, that truly processing his would-be entry into kindergarten doesn’t ifeel possible. Yet here we are.

5 years have come and gone without him. Should have been first days of preschool and now kindergarten. Should have been end of year flowers for his teachers. Should have been “what do you want to be when you grow up” answers. Ticks on the ruler to watch his growth. Boxes of hand me downs for his little brother.

Audrey has her princess backpack and lunch box and Harry has his dinosaurs. They are adorable and they are perfect for each of the little image bearers that carry them. What would have been George’s obsession? What kinds of things would have interested him? Would he be the class clown? The smart and nerdy guy? Would he always have a ball? Or a book? Or army men? These are the questions we get to ask for the rest of our lives. We won’t ever get an answer, at least not this side of heaven. But one of the things I’ve learned in all these years of grief, is that I’m glad to have been given the gift of George, unanswered questions and all, because the alternative no questions and therefore, no George.

Grief is a funny thing. Just like you somehow multiply the love in your heart when you have multiple children (honestly, how does it even work?? And yet somehow it does), our heart multiplied with love when we got those two pink lines - and it didn’t just go away when we didn’t get to bring him home. Instead, it plays out in the questions. In the daydreams and imaginations of his siblings. In the what if’s and what would’s. In the tears or the small heartbreaks over the lack of back to school pictures. That’s grief. That’s love. That’s the messiness of human emotions in a world decaying under the weight of sin. All the things, all the time, wrapped up in the gift (and work) of grief.

I hope Harry has the most incredible time today. I hope he is a bright light to his teachers and classmates. And I hope, that one day, he realizes how special it is to be the 3rd kiddo in our lineup, even though he only looks like the 2nd. So here’s to all the hearts that are grieving this season - whatever it is, whatever hurts, whatever at all, know that your Father is good and gracious. And then give it all to Him. The tears, the laughter, the guilt over the tears, the guilt over the laughter, He’s there for it and in it and through it.

Father’s Day, New Home, & All The Thoughts

It’s been a while since I sat down with this little journal of mine. I’ve actually opened the notes section on my phone numerous times to unscramble all the thoughts in my head, but every time I do, the words that come out of my two clumsy thumbs feel just as jumbled as they are in my head. I guess the reality of a cross country move is that even the most straightforward of emotions is actually considerably more complicated.

I knew last year, after visiting my sister and her family, that we needed to call Tennessee home. I think I even called Adam and told him that I was ready to move here whenever he was. He nervously laughed and brushed it off. He knew I didn’t like Utah, so me suggesting a new place wasn’t totally uncommon. But I wasn’t joking. I couldn’t explain it at the time, and even now it’s a mystery… but this place felt like home from the moment I stepped off that Delta flight into the tiny thing they call the Nashville airport. After 7 years of praying for my exit out of Utah, I finally had a place. So I started praying; specifically.

I know that Adam’s heart wasn’t as miserably captured in Utah, but no matter how many times I gave myself the “you just have to suck it up and be happy” pep talk, I was just that: miserably captured. Sure, God had given us a delightful group of people that had become our family over the last 7 years. But the pandemic cut us off from all the things that had made our home feel survivable. And now, as the world was trying to open back up, it felt like the pullings of my heart to leave were getting more urgent. So I prayed for his heart to change. I didn’t know if that meant we’d be moving by Christmas or if it meant another 5 years there, but God hadn’t given me a place, finally, just to make me even more frustrated with Utah. This time felt different. And even though it brought back all the emotions of being pregnant with George (how many times did I tell myself “God wouldn’t do this just to do that” and was horribly, miserably wrong?), I stayed consistent in praying for the promptings of my own heart to begin to be shared by my husband.

It took longer than I wanted, but shorter than I expected, for the idea of packing up our family and moving across the country to become not just my desire but Adam’s as well. And as we began to share the call to Tennessee, I couldn’t not see Gods hand in every, single, aspect of this move. His provision was incredible and at every intersection I could see that our steps had been foreordained.

Yesterday, as we sat in the church row, I felt all the emotions. Our first Sunday here was Mothers Day, and I was too high on the adrenaline of moving to really process all the heavy emotions that day brings. But here we are, 6 weeks later, and all the highs have worn off - it’s just normal life these days - and as the hymn “ Holy, Holy, Holy” came on the screen, I felt the first tear drip down my cheek. And by the time we had sung the last few words, “holy holy holy! Merciful and mighty! God in three persons, blessed Trinity” I was weeping. Because the Lord is merciful and mighty. Because His guiding presence had felt so distance in so many ways lately, and yet here I was, singing the words of a hymn immensely older than me, that felt as relevant today as if they had been written in my very own journal; and believing every word.

I was grateful for the gift of this new place we call home. Thankful for the beauty of watching Audrey worship along side us. Thankful for the little family God had placed in my care. And deeply missing the little 5 year old who should’ve been in our row with us. Who would’ve added his own middle child flare to the Father’s Day festivities planned out by big sister. I was mourning, especially in that moment, the should have beens and could have beens of Adam’s fatherhood journey.

We had just sung “all they works shall praise thy name in earth and sky and sea” and there I was, praising His name. Paralyzed by grief, overwhelmed with gratitude, and thankfulness pouring out of every part of my soul - Holy Holy Holy! Lord God Almighty!

“Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.”

‭‭Colossians‬ ‭3:16-17‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Happy 2nd Birthday, Harry Beau!

Harry Beau,

Today you are two and I think the very best way to describe you is to say that your joy is infectious. I’ve been watching the video of us singing you happy birthday for what seems like the last hour - there is no other possible reaction to it’s cuteness than to match your grin. Ear to ear and squinty eyed, you take on the world.

It’s really hard to believe that it’s been 2 years. The pandemic really threw us for a loop. You both feel like you’ve been in our family forever and also don’t feel like you’ve been here for 2 years. You are THE HAPPIEST kid I have ever met. Not to be confused with content, because honestly, you’re not that. Not to say you aren’t also often content, but you are the grinningest, giggliest, goober of a human that I’ve ever met, and it warms my heart just to be around you. Let alone having the privilege of being your mama. You have been the most excellent caboose in our family, and while I often miss the relationship you should have had with your big brother, I so love the way that you adore you’re big sister.

I’ve so enjoyed the abundance of words that have filled your mouth over these last couple of months. Watching you figure out how to communicate and effectively advocate for yourself and your needs has been so fun. You are a lover of snacks. You are independent to a fault. And yet, the last couple of weeks you have insisted that we snuggle before bed; something you gave up ages ago and I’m totally here for it (as they say). I will snuggle you with all the squeezes and soak it all in, because I know that one day you’ll be bigger than me and snuggling your own kiddos.

I pray that you would keep your grin and your giggle as you grow. That you would touch the lives of people everywhere with that gracious and infectious joy. I pray that you would grow to become a strong and kind man who can lead your house to and for God’s glory. I pray that all the love you feel and show towards your daddy, audrey, and me, would one day be an abundant love of your Savior and King. You were fearfully and wonderfully made by a perfect Creator, and I hope that you know and feel that every day of your life.

I cannot wait to see what this next year brings for you. Your grin and giggles are certainly going to be helpful in this next season as we move our family. I thank God daily for that and for the little man that you are. Your daddy and I love you so much.

Happy Birthday, Harry Beau!

Love,

Mama & Daddy

Happy 7th Birthday, Audrey Nole!

Audrey Nole,

I know I say this every year, but it is honestly shocking that you are currently celebrating your 7th birthday. I look at the beautiful and kind young lady you have become and I still often see the tiny little nugget that we brought home from the hospital on this day 7 years ago. The big wide eyes that took in the world from almost the minute they entered it; you still carry those enormous, and perfectly beautiful eyes, and they still melt every piece of my heart. You are such a lovely little lady. And your daddy and I couldn’t be more proud of the person you have become.

You have this incredible joy about you. Its a gift, truly, and I hope that as you grow older you will realize just how much good you can do in this world because of it. Even as you face our upcoming move, through all of the nerves of the unknown, you remain joyful and continue to pour life into everyone around you. That’s not easy, sweet girl, and I thank God every day for that special piece of you. I hope that as you finish out this school year and say goodbye to the place you’ve called home for these last 7 years, that you will shine brightly for the Lord and show the world all the ways that He has provided and continues to sustain you. Moving, especially across the country, brings with it lots of big girl emotions, and my prayer for you is that you would feel God’s presence in each and every moment of those big feelings. That you would never forget how much He loves you, and that if even the birds are loved and cared for, how much more deeply the Father’s love is for you.

As I write this, you are at your drama class where you are practicing for your performance in a few weeks. Audrey Nole, I knew that theater was going to be your thing from a very young age, but it has been so much fun to watch just how much you are enjoying it. You come home each Wednesday with a full cup and your whole face is lit up as you walk in the door from the car. It has also been so fun to listen to you tell us all about the things you are reading and learning, and the books that you want to read and add to your queue. You are quite the little reader and your love for learning has blossomed over these last few months. You tell daddy and I all the time that you want to be a vet, a nurse, a surgeon, and a movie star. Daddy and I can’t wait to help you along whichever path you choose, and be your biggest cheerleaders as you take on the world!

We love you so much, sweet girl. Being your mama and daddy is our favorite thing to do and be. We thank God every day for you and pray that you would continue to do wonderful things for His kingdom as you start this next year. May you always feel God’s loving presence guiding you. May you always be a light to those around you. May you always know how much we love you.

How deep the Father’s love for us
How vast beyond all measure
that He should send His only son
to make a wretch a treasure.

And what a treasure you are! Happy Birthday, Audrey Nole!

Love,

Mama & Daddy

Bye, Mom.

Today is 7 years since I said good bye. 7 years without her. And today has been a pretty normal day. A toddler who was up too early, teething, runny nose, refusing food and begging for snacks. A young lady who went to a birthday party last night. Coffee in the pot. Dogs running in and out the door to enjoy the sunshine. And making lists for packing and moving. Today is Saturday. But today is also March 12.

It didn’t really hit me this year until I was alone in the car, running much needed errands, and a song called “bye mom” came on the radio. I don’t know if I’ve ever actually heard the whole thing. I always just hit next or change the station. But somehow today I didn’t catch it and suddenly a rose was being placed on a grave as the musician said “bye, mom”. And now I’m sitting in the target parking lot, thankful for large sunglasses and even slightly tinted windows. Because, damnit, bye mom are two words that I took for granted for so long and now I’ll never say them again.

Every once in a while it twinges when Audrey says those words. I’m not jealous, necessarily, but I miss ending conversations with those words. I miss the fact that saying goodbye means there was something wonderful that lead to that. I know that my goodbye all those years ago wasn’t my last, but it was my very last earthly words that I would ever speak to the woman who loved me more than she loved herself. The last words of a scared mama to be, in her 20’s, wishing that God had seen fit to give us a miracle - but also knowing her Savior was waiting for her.

I don’t know how long I’ll be in this parking lot. I don’t know how many tears are going to fall before they dry up and life moves on, but I’m just gonna sit in this. Because grief is hard but it also can’t be ignored. And I know that as I get farther away from her death, the days will become more and more normal. More filled with birthday parties and soccer games. More filled with home work and yard work. More filled with the needs of the little people who call me mom. More filled with the life we are living because life didn’t stop when hers ended. So I’m not rushing these tears. I’m missing her and the tears are falling. The errands can wait.

Starting the Last Chapter

And just like that, we are under contract on the sale of our Utah home. Saturday night we received the final signatures, and, Lord willing, our house will be sold in a matter of weeks. We can officially start the last chapter of our season in Utah. And… the first chapter of our next season; Tennessee, here we come.

Its interesting to think about the end of our time here. We haven’t been the biggest cheerleaders for a life in Utah, but we have some of our fondest memories here, so when it comes time to say good bye, it will be with bittersweet emotions. The daunting task of a cross country move all those years ago was countered by the excitement of a new career path for Adam. It showed us a new kind of life and one that we found we enjoyed - even though it proved challenging at times. The pages of our Utah story are filled with love, grief, joy, frustration, longing, excitement, and so much more. God has seen us through several of the hardest things that a person will ever face. He has drawn us nearer to him. We will leave this place better than when we arrived, and for that, I could not be more grateful.

So many of you have followed along these last 5 or so years. It has been a pleasure to share this little life with you, but mostly, I’m incredibly grateful for the safety of this space to share the wanderings of my mind. To be encouraged and loved on through the pages of this journal and the miracle of the internet. God has shown himself present and close through so many of your words. He has comforted us through virtual and physical hugs alike. When we load the last piece of our belongings onto our moving truck, we will miss so much of what we are leaving and we will be so thrilled for what is next to come.

That has been the theme of these last seven (almost 8!) years. Learning that one emotion doesn’t simply exist until the next one comes along. Instead, many emotions coexist.

Would you join us in praying for us in this time of transition? That God would lay clearly (as he has so many times already in this process) the path he has for us. That our hearts and minds would be solidly in the place God intends them. And that our children would feel God’s closeness as they embark on, what is likely, the most terrifying adventure we’ve had yet. We have no doubt that this is where God has called us. We are thrilled to follow that call. And we are simultaneously sad to, finally, close this chapter. Because for all of its hardships, its been a good one.

“Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.” - Romans 12:12

Photo by Florian Klauer on Unsplash

Happy 5th Birthday, George Mason!

5 years old

I’ve spent the last few weeks thinking about all the things I would say in a birthday letter to our newly minted 5 year old. Yes, 5 year old. It’s getting more difficult to imagine our George Mason. I do think that as Harry grows older and we experience the life of boy-parents, it will get a little easier to retroactively imagine George at each of these birthdays and stages of life. But as of now, we have an almost 2 year old boy - and somehow, that’s just so incredibly different than a 5 year old boy. So as I find my mind wandering back to the same notebook page, empty mostly, where I keep my thoughts about our middle child, I get both sad and frustrated that it’s not full of all the things that our not-so-little-guy is doing to fill his days.

5 years old… it feels like a different lifetime when we held him and said goodbye. And yet, here we are, frosting the super hero cake his big sister decided that he would probably like very, very much.

George Mason,

Today, you would be 5 (que all the tears). If it’s possible, your dad and I love you more today than we did yesterday and the day before that. We also somehow miss you more and more each day (que more tears). 5 years is a long time to dream about you, but also, I realize that’s it’s actually not long at all - and for the rest of my days, however many they may be, I will miss you a little more and love you a little more deeply. It never gets easier to not have you here. In fact, as I get to know more of your big sister and little brother, it gets harder , and made more obvious, the hole you’ve left in our family.

The quiet days at home with Harry, would they be filled with the trampling sounds of super hero pretend play? Would you be teaching your little bro all about sword fights, marvel characters, and the best ways to annoy your big sister? Would you be a good student? I think so; at least I think you’d love to time you spend at preK with your friends. Maybe you’d be too busy to care much about your letters and numbers - slightly disappointing your dad’s desire for you to carry on the millionth generation of McGough accountants. Maybe you’d actually be the most tender hearted little man. Maybe you’d be compassionate and the best friend. Maybe the hardships of your entry into this world would have given you the super power of empathy and the desire to make each human you meet to feel known and deeply loved. Yes, I think that very much would be who you are today.

At the end of this summer, in just 6 short months, you’d be heading off to kindergarten (que yet another round of tears). George, or would you have a nickname? Possibly. No, most definitely. But what would it be? Would you be little G? Or Georgey? Maybe you’d be buddy? Either way, I imagine you’d be so thrilled to start going to “big school” with sissy. As much as I watch Harry adore her, I know you’d be thick as thieves with her. You’d probably know every Barbie’s name too. And all the backstories she’s come up with. You’d probably have added details of your own; like secret super powers and clandestine criminal catching - all in time to throw back on a gown and not have been missed at the ball. Yes, I think that would definitely be you.

It’s still cold here, but I imagine that you’d drag your dad outside after dinner to soak up the last rays of sunshine playing catch. Would you like football or baseball more? Would we have a basketball hoop in the backyard? Or would there be soccer goals set up for endless hours of kicking practice? I think you’d probably get a little frustrated with Harry as he tries to copy your every move, but I think secretly you’d love to show him the ropes of what childhood as a little boy looks like. I can see your blonde curls in a garnet sweatshirt as you cheer on the Noles basketball team (unfortunately the football games have been a little rough since you were born, but that’s ok, daddy would have you doing all the black and gold cheering). You’d probably know the rules better than me at this point. Yes, I think that would definitely be you today.

Happy 5th Birthday, Middle Man. Your daddy and I are better for having known you. Better for loving you. Better for trusting God with you. I hope the birthday celebrations in heaven are wonderful, because we sure do miss you.

All our love, forever and always,

Mama & Daddy