Thirty-Nine. (wowzas!)

So, My Love...
I always write my Little Loves a birthday blog post.  It's only fair I write you yours...

Sunday you turn 39.  Ever closer to that elusive 4-0...and while you've never been too sure about grower older... I, on the other hand, have always said that you're like a fine wine. You just keep getting better with age.  And those few grey hairs speckled throughout your head?  I kind of love them.  Embrace them, Baby.

You've earned them living with this mob of Crazy.

 I'm so thankful for you, Kev.  And I probably don't tell you that enough.
Next to salvation, you are - hands down - the best decision I ever made.
One that I have never for a second regretted, and one for which I will be forever grateful.

So, thanks for being you.

Thanks for being a gentleman in college and for treating your girlfriend that you had at the time with respect and honor.  I took notice of it then, and it impressed me. I remember being jaded with guys at the time and stating clearly that I would not be a statistic for their "Bridal Institute," but if ever I were to fall in love again - I wanted to be loved "the way that guy loves his girl."  Thanks for standing out.

Thanks for playing soccer with me back in Bible college and for not flipping out when I kicked the ball at your face and gave you a bloody nose.  Thanks for being cool about it and for not getting mad when I couldn't stop laughing - even though I felt bad.  I can't control myself sometimes.  That was my first sign that you didn't have a bad temper and that you could - literally - roll with the kicks punches.  I love that about you.

Thanks for being patient with my heart during those College years and for letting our friendship deepen while our hearts made sure we could trust.  You were my best friend before there was ever anything else, and that's my most favorite ingredient of our marriage.  There is no one I would rather hang out with than you.

Thanks for being THE BEST Daddy....

Thanks for always being a gentleman and for treating me with respect.  Thank you for the way that you honor me and for the way that you protect our marriage.  You are over the top careful about the way you handle yourself around other women, about what you let your eyes look at, and about keeping short accounts with me and with God.  I love the way that you love me.  You are a man of integrity, one whom I pray that our three boys grow up to become, and one whom I pray that our little girl holds up as the standard for her future man.

And you've set it pretty high. Thanks for that, Love...

Thank you for being the one who keeps the finger on the pulse of our Home.  You are the one who is always aware when things are out of balance.  You are the one who is always assessing and re-assessing what needs to change, what needs to be taken off of our plates. and what needs to be fine tuned to make our Home and our lives run more smoothly and more focused.

My heart.  Right here.

Thanks for loving me for me.  Thanks for letting me broadcast my heart and our lives from the rooftops on this crazy blog of mine - when you would rather keep our entire lives private.  Thanks for letting me be loud and whirling...and for always being the Strong and Steady in our lives.  Thanks for being gentle with my non-detailed brain, and for coming alongside when I get overwhelmed with Life.  Thanks for always being able to make me laugh when I'm mad at you, and thanks for never letting us go to bed angry.

Thanks for breathing your calm into my insecurities and for making me always feel brave.

I love the crazy recipe that makes you - You.  I will never be able to wrap my mind around the way your brain works - but I love it.  I love that you are deep and that your brain is ever going, but you are equally hilarious and witty.  I love that you can take yourself and life SO super seriously, but at any moment we can both be dying laughing at a most inappropriate time and place, with tears running down our faces completely unable to control ourselves.

That's a pretty great balance, in my book.
Depth married with hilarity.
Seriousness with a little Crazy mixed in.
It's what makes living life with you an adventure!

Thanks for all of our crazy Adventures.  They are the best.

I love being yours.
I love doing the crazy of Life with you.
I love you.  I'm proud of you.  I respect you.

I love the normal and the mundane of every day - knowing that you will be walking through those doors at the end of it - and I love how I feel when I see your face.  You're my favorite, Kevy...and I would follow you to the ends of the Earth.  I've done it once before...

Happy 39th, Love!

Six.

So, somehow, my sweet baby boy #3, got a little closer to the double digits this past weekend.
It's like I blinked, and now you're a big boy, growing up way too fast.  It kind of slays me.

Ransom Malachi - "God's Messenger of Hope" - how we love you...

I was a watermelon with you.
Daddy called me Barney...among other names.

 I can still remember your birthday so clearly.  We had literally just moved our very last box into our new house the night before.  My parents, my cousin, and friends helped us all the previous day - fighting the clock - knowing that your arrival was imminent.  As we crashed into bed the night before, we had settled on paint colors for all of the rooms, my kitchen was set up and organized, and our bed and yours was made up and cozy.

Everything else was in boxes all over the place....family from up home was sleeping everywhere, because there was to be an epic painting party the next day, and we were sort of surrounded by chaos. But my kitchen was all set up and organized, so I knew I could feed my family; and your little corner was set up and cozy, so I knew that whenever you made your arrival, at least your little space was ready and waiting...  And, as we crashed hard for our very first night in our sweet little house, I looked over at your Daddy and said:  "If the baby comes tonight, I'm totally okay with that."

Two babies previous, I had needed to have every duck in a row until I felt ready for their arrival. Every corner of my house clean, every last stitch of laundry washed, everything in its place and organized.  But, this time around, it felt like an adventure!  I remember feeling so excited and brave that we were going to finally be outnumbered with this crazy passel of boys!  I remember feeling so happy and content that you were another boy.  With Kaden and Jesse we had chosen to be surprised by their gender at birth, but this time around, both Daddy and I decided it would be fun to find out.  I remember speaking your name over you while you were inside of me, and I remember loving the name we had chosen.  Bold.  Strong.  Different.

We had gone with a midwife for Jesse's birth in Pennsylvania, and that had been such an amazing experience that I wanted to replicate it with your birth back here in Maine.  Kaden's arrival had been traumatic, so I refused to go local where we had delivered him.  I wanted a home birth.  Daddy took a firm "no" stance on that one, and so we compromised.  We found a level 2 birthing center about an hour away, and Daddy said I could deliver there as long as when he said it was time to go...I complied without complaining.  I like to stay home until the last possible minute, and he's not a fan of my water breaking in the car.  It's always a fun little game we play, where I try to hide the fact that I'm in labor, so he won't make us leave too soon.

Anyway, pretty much as soon as our heads hit the pillow that night, I knew that you would be arriving within hours.  My labor was slower with you, but I was more confident, and I can remember just laying in bed with Daddy breathing deeply beside me thinking how blessed we were - to finally be back in the country, to finally be back near our families, and to be welcoming another new life into our arms.

I remember telling myself that you were probably going to be my last baby...(ha)...and I wanted to savor every bit of this last experience.  I love those first moments of labor where I am the only one in the world who knows that today is going to be the day.  With each one of you last three babies, I have gone into labor in the nighttime, and I have had a few hours of just waiting and of just being - quiet contemplation and excitement alone with you still inside - knowing that I'm about to see your face for the first time, and that you are about to hear my voice.  You're going to rock our world and change our lives, and I'm going to be, once again, in awe of the gift of life and of miracles --- and it's Holy ground.  Something that words can't express, and something where I've always said - I don't know how any woman who's ever given birth could ever say that there is no God...

And then things get intense.
And then I need your Daddy, because he's the only one who can soothe me, and he's the only one I want by my side.  He is quiet.  He is strong.  He is gentle.  And he makes me brave.

Really early the next morning, your brothers came running up the stairs to jump into bed with us and to marvel at the adventure of their new home.  Daddy looked at me and KNEW, so we told them the news...they stopped their jumping and their wrestling...and he and I got ready to go.  I told the family downstairs to just take the day off, because plans had obviously changed, but they said they'd paint until we called for them to come meet you, and so we hit the road.

Daddy prayed.  We settled in, and you entered the world and our hearts so sweetly and calmly - much like your personality today.  You were my dream baby, Ransom.  So content.  So calm.  Such a snuggly bundle of boy.  You entered the world so chill and relaxed - and that's really your personality now.  You are funny, you are calm, you are quirky, you are chill.  You can play cars on the floor for hours at a time.  You are content in your own little world of imagination and play.

But, you've also settled into your role as "big brother" pretty amazingly, as well.  I love seeing your tenderness with London.  I love watching you play together and listening to your little conversations in your bedroom at night.  How she loves her "boys" and how you three treat her so sweetly.

I love watching you grow and learn, Ransom.  I love seeing you learn to read, and I love watching your brain learn new concepts this year in Kindergarten.  I love watching your concentration, and I love seeing you so proud of yourself.  I love your dimple when you smile, and I love your crushing "squeeze hugs."  I love watching you run, and I love how fast you are. I love your love for your Daddy, and I love when you want to help him with whatever project he may be working on.  You are his little shadow, and it makes my heart so happy to see.

My prayer for you this year, Rancey, is that you'll fall in love with Jesus.  I pray that He will become real in your heart, and that - even at just six - you'll be able to listen to His still, small voice.  I pray that you will grow big and strong - and that your heart will be sensitive to the things that are important to Him.  You are strong, Ransom.  You have big love and big thoughts.

And so I pray big things for you.

I pray that you will become what your name means.  I pray that you will grow bold in your love for Jesus and that you will be a mouthpiece for Him - a messenger of Hope.  A speaker of truth.  A life giver in your words and in your actions toward others.  Watch your Daddy, Love.  See how he models life.  See how he loves his family.  See how he needs Jesus and how he's not ashamed to love deep, and wild, and true.  Keep being his shadow, sweet boy.  Watch and learn...

You are our gift, Ransom Malachi.
We are so blessed to get to call you our own.
Happy 6th!  May you know how loved you are.
I love you sweet boy.  More than you will ever know...

Thanks for the joy of YOU...

Parallels.

It's 7:00 a.m. on a Friday morning - our Family Day.

Kev's been gone since 4:30 hunting, the three boys had a sleepover in the basement last night and are all still crashed out cold, since none of them got to bed until 10:00.  We have Thursday night church now, with a music practice afterwards, and by the time we all get home and into bed it is LATE for my Littles.  London is happily playing in her bed with snacks and juice.  And the house is STILL.

And me --  I decided today to sleep in just a bit, and to bring my coffee back to bed with me for an hour.  Outside is waking up slowly, inside is still quiet and cozy.  And instead of hitting the ground running - literally and figuratively - like I normally do, it just felt right to slow and BE this morning. My body and my brain feel pampered.  An extra hour of sleep and coffee whilst tucked under blankets - with a house still silent at this hour of the day feels decadent and glorious.  And it's just what the doctor ordered for this chilly, Fall morning.

It's the little things.

I ran my very first race a week ago Sunday.  Another check off my bucket list.  A friend from church and I have been running together for weeks.  I'm not even sure how it started, really.  She's kind of a new friend - an acquaintance from church meeting over the mutual love/hate of getting up early and getting it done.  She's a beast of an athlete who has run many races - and fast.  She knew I had a bucket list dream to run a marathon - or at least a half one day - and she convinced me to sign up for a Half that's right in our town.

So, somehow, this summer, - having never run more than 4 miles consecutively in my LIFE - I found myself mileage building with her, doing something that I never dreamed I could do, with a girl whom, at the beginning of summer, I barely knew...but who I can now say is a sweet, dear friend.  Hours spent running together will do that.  Miles of deep heart to hearts in between gasping bursts of breath...dream sharing...struggles sharing, and sweat dripping mornings of honest, raw, and real conversations.  Honestly....what a gift.  That's my most favorite take away from this whole entire adventure.

I still feel like I might rather birth a fifth child than do that again, but she's already dreaming of doing a full marathon one day, so who knows.  She's rather convincing.  And while "fun" is still too strong of a word to use for our race day, it really was quite an experience.  Our goal was to run it in under two hours, and we did it finishing third in our age group - 24th out of 81 overall - with an time of 1:52 and some change - and our average minute per mile being 8:46. While I totally feel like I held Holly back - especially the final mile when I was plodding and she was chomping to sprint - this, for me, was a personal best.

Having never run a single race before in my life, there was a lot to soak in.  On our runs, it's always been my job to pace us, since Holly likes to sprint out like a cheetah and stay at that pace until I'm begging for mercy.  But, I got so caught up in the adrenaline of it all - and all of the people who were all around us - I took us out of the gate at an 8 minute mile - instead of our normal 9 - and kept us there for the first few miles of the race, until the newness wore off, and I asked her why I felt like I was dying so early on in our run.  My bad. Our first few miles are always our slowest, and then we gradually get faster with each consecutive one.  This is how my body works best. We kind of did the opposite for the race, with our first six being several seconds faster than our last. Lesson learned.

I'm not entirely sure - still - how to work the water stations.  We didn't want to stop, obviously, so we just slowed down our pace to snag one as we ran by...but I am apparently not talented enough to swallow and run at the same time, because it took about four stations before I finally stopped drowning myself.  Graceful, I was not.

The course itself was a surprise to me when all was said and done.  The places where I thought I would struggle the most, were not the places where my body and brain did the rebelling.  It was the miles of flatness where you could see the end - but it was still too far away - that messed with my head.  Our final five minutes, I honestly felt like I was in transition labor, and Holly had to talk me off the cliff to dig in my heels and end with a kick.  I thought the race was over once we rounded a certain corner...but then it totally wasn't and we still had another quarter to half mile to go....so that made me mad and totally discouraged me.  I was just about to ask her to slow it down a bit, and she knew it, so she got in my face and said:  "We have not come this far to back down now.  You will bust your butt until you cross that blue line, and then you can rest!"  Drill Sergeant.  And so, in my shining moment of glory, just after our feet crossed the line -- instead of throwing my arms around her in a celebratory hug of accomplishment, I looked at her, stated clearly:  "I hate you," and then daintily crashed in a heap onto the ground.  And THEN, I looked over and said:  "I don't hate you.  I didn't mean it.  I love you.  You know that, right?"

It was a beautiful moment.

Over and over in my head, every time we had to climb up a hill...or every time my brain would ask me why we had paid money for this torture...a verse would come to my mind like a mantra.  It was a verse put to music that I learned as a little girl, and a memory that I had forgotten for years.  "Even youths grow tired and weary.  And young men stumble and fall.  But, those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.  They will soar on wings like eagles.  They will run and not grow weary.  They will walk, and not be faint.  Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength." (Isaiah 40:30,31)

What a verse for LIFE!
What a mantra for Mama's!
So many parallels to running and motherhood...to running and just...LIFE!
The more I do these things together, the more I see the marriage of the two.

Both are hard.  Both can get in your head,  Both require discipline.  Both require commitment.
Some days are smooth and you feel like you're right in the pocket.
And some days start out rough and just stay there the entire day.  (Behold, my recovery run).

I think both running and Life go a whole lot better when you have someone at your side - doing that hard, but rewarding thing right along with you.  When you have a cheering section who is on your side, and who is for you and not against you -  and who uses tough love on you in the moments that you need it.  Life was not meant to be lived alone...and I, for one, am not a fan of paying good money to run a race all by myself.  I can walk out my own front door and do that on my own time.  But, with a friend, it becomes an adventure!  It becomes this beautiful, messy picture of life walked out together. We encourage each other, we make the time go by faster, we talk each other out of our heads, we laugh at each other, and we share our hearts....all the while putting one foot in front of the other...one foot in front of the other....one foot in front of the other...when we maybe really don't want to.  And when we maybe feel like giving up.

That's life, man.
That's the messy beautiful.

I might be hooked....

Thank you, Holly.  You make me better.
"Each one helps his neighbor, and says to the other: 'Be strong!'" ~ Isaiah 41:6