To My Zachary

Yesterday you turned 5 – five, five, five.  I can’t believe that half a decade has passed since I first held you in my arms.  Your older sister taught me to be a mother.  But you - you taught me how to love as a mother.  Pushing you out was one of the most excruciatingly difficult things I have ever done and I will never forget the feeling of you entering this world.  All pain and discomfort and intense, overwhelming eleven hours of labor began to fall away.  

My heart began to race and didn’t stop for another six hours.  I sat up instead of sleeping – watching you –  baby burrito cooing and humming in your big sleep.  You were such a loud sleeper and my heart ached with love for you – love at first sight.  

Now you run and jump and search for toys that begin with the preschool letter of the day.  Every toy can be made a gun or a sword and you leap off the top of couches in a single bound.  You have a heart of gold – crumbling under the weight of my yelling and apologizing as fast as you can.  You hug, kiss and protect your sisters.  You tell me you love me when I’m having the worst day.  

Your clear blue eyes dimpled cheeks and chin envelope me in the reminder that there is so much good in this world.  And you – in your five your old glory are one of the best of those goods.  

I love you – my one and only boy.  I’m so grateful for you, Zachary John.  Your name means “remembered by a gracious God” – he remembered me and in his grace and mercy gave me the gift of you. 

Thanksgiving Is

When I was growing up, Thanksgiving was that quiet go-to-grandmas-eat-lots-of-food-and-be-bored-the-rest-of-the-day holiday.  Compared to Christmas, Thanksgiving was just a halfhearted warm up act.  Sure, it was nice to be with family and share a big, hearty meal, but it was not a big deal to me.

Over the years, my perspective has changed.  We first started hosting Thanksgiving nine years ago.  We had just bought our house that summer and I said offhandedly that it would be great to host a holiday, but not this year because it was just too soon.  We hosted anyway – hectic, learning, and chaotic, but I’m glad we did it.  

The next year, I was pregnant with our first child.  The idea of being thankful seemed so important, so integral to how life should be that I was grateful that this was our holiday to host.  I made handmade card invitations, started to buy Thanksgiving décor, looked for ways to make this OUR holiday.  We started speaking out our thankfulness before the prayer and I was brought to tears nearly every time.  

Each year that passes, I am overwhelmed by all that I have to be thankful for.  It seems to me that over time this holiday – Thanksgiving – is what should matter most.  

Thanksgiving is:

• Friends and family together sharing and loving each other – even when we don’t understand or like each other all the time.
• Reminiscing, laughing, storytelling, traditions.
• Food, warmth, pumpkins, turkey, and stuffing.
• Brokenness…realizing that all we have – life, health, shelter, food, breath is a gift from God – grace for this moment – undeserved favor.

How can we not bow before God and offer thanks for each moment?  How can we forget that each moment of life is a gift?  I don’t live this thankfulness as I should – today being a prime example of my irritation and anger and shaking of my fist at all that annoys and inconveniences me – even the people that should matter the most. 

So come Thanksgiving, come to us broken ones – so that we can weigh down time with grace and peace and a bit of joy to move us forward.