Ransom Malachi.
"God's Messenger of Hope."
How in the world is my youngest boy already SEVEN?
Seven years old, my sweet little man...  And what a JOY it is to be your Mama!  I will always remember your birth story, because you came into this world the very morning after we purchased our new to us HOME.....after having lived four years either in the city of Pennsylvania, at a camp on Pushaw Lake, or in an apartment above a hotel.....where we had men in hoodies running across our rooftops at night and staring into our windows.  Those were a few years of (fun....blissy-ness, even...but nonetheless) Insanity.

So, when we finally signed papers on a house to call our very own, and we laid our heads down to sleep the night before you came -- amidst all of the whirling and swirling chaos that was the newness of just getting things moved in.  I was in my absolute ELEMENT of contentment.  We had chosen our paint colors.  My Mom and dear friend Rachael had completely set up our kitchen.  Our bedroom and your little nesting area were completely set up and organized.  And that was it - we were still completely surrounded by boxes.  But, I rolled over and looked at your Daddy in our sweet lofty bedroom with trees in our view from every window, and I whispered to him:  "If Ransom chooses to make his debut tonight. I am READY!"  I was SO happy.
Brother Gifts....
And so, you and I had conversations all night long.  I knew you were coming.  And I had a house full of people sleeping downstairs...   Ready to prime.  Ready to paint.  Ready to help me organize and clean.  But, you changed the plans for Mommy and Daddy -- and so early the next morning, we had us a little visit to our Midwife Jane.

Mid morning, you made your little debut -- much like your own little personality.  Not a lot of ceremony.  Slowly, but surely making your presence known.  Sweet Jane let me reach down and catch you myself.  And there you laid...right in the middle of my heart, where you had been all along for those sweet nine months.  My heart was full.  You were content.  And I was SO proud.  You, sweet boy, were my hardest labor -- but my easiest baby.  You came home on a schedule.  You have always loved your sleep.  And you just loved being held.

From the time you were young, you have ALWAYS been your own little person.  You are funny.  You are quirky.  You are easily amused and you invent your own play.  You have always loved cars and trucks, and you still love your puppy.  You are strong willed and feel things deeply.  You have always articulated well what you are thinking.  And being the youngest of three boys has never phased you.

This year you are a big first grader - reading and writing and doing Math like a champ.  You fly on your big boy bike, and you can run like the wind.  I LOVE watching you run.  You have better endurance than any of us, and I loved when you said a few months ago:  "God made me to run!" Indeed He did, sweet boy.

He made you for a whole lot more than that as well, Rancey.  My prayer for you is that you will do dangerous things for God.  That you will grow into the meaning of your name and that you will fall madly in love with Jesus.  I pray that you will always feel deeply and that you will always articulate clearly....but I pray you will do it for the cause of the Kingdom.  I love you so much, Ransom Malachi.  I love our relationship.  I love your sweetness.  I love your little conversations with London at night.  I love watching your tender care of her.  And I love your crazy personality.  Your dance moves delight me, and your nightly squishing hugs melt me every time.  You are a gift to our family, and I thank God for you every day.

Happy year number seven, sweet boy!!  Maybe it be a year where you grow in the grace and knowledge of Jesus.  May it be a year where your relationship with Him really becomes your own. May your imagination and creativity grow, and may your friendship with your siblings deepen and solidify.  Stay honest.  Stay a little wild.

And never stop kissing me goodnight.
I love you so......

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