What I Like about You

An old college friend showed up with moving boxes to my city just two weeks ago.  I consider it nothing less than a divine gift. 

Mid conversation she, more than once, starts her sentences
"You know what I like about you..."

Who does that?  Just looks for the best in people and calls it out in them.  Lucky me to be on the receiving end.  Just yesterday she even extended that gift to my son. 

My mom tells the story of visiting an out of state friend as a young mom.  Instead of playing the comparison game, her friend Kathy ticked off a list of women in her life with labels like "wonderful", "empathetic,"  "great mother," etc.  In my mom's world of comparison games, this was a new thing and a breath of fresh air.  The story has stuck with me. 

This last week and a half lots of my favorites mark another calendar year of growing older.  What's a birthday if not a chance to tell someone what you like about them? 

I have lots of people to celebrate:
my favorite youngest son , I celebrate all that makes him him here.
my one and only favorite mom, who's incredibly gifted at creating family traditions and memories.  Lucky for me, she puts family first like it's nobody's business.

my favorite fellow Jacobs High School Graduate, she's witty, blunt, and extremely loyal.  She is a friend who shows up at hospitals and funerals when no one else does.
my favorite aforementioned Grand Rapids resident, who admits to finding something she likes in people, regardless.  I envy such an awesome trait.  She's more free of pretense than anyone I know.
my favorite Texas resident (not to be mistaken for a Texan), who's real, funny, vulnerable, and simply fabulous.  I miss our long chats and her delicious cookies. 

and my favorite of friends, who has claimed that title for the last fifteen years. 

In the entirety of our friendship, I'm grateful for a friend who lets me be me as I let her be her.  There have been seasons we have had to navigate making different choices and how we could still cheer each other on despite.  We are overwhelmingly similar in some areas and drastically different in others.  Somehow she has been able to celebrate my differences like they're amazing gifts. 

This is for her, to celebrate her 30th.   Granted, she is quite easy to call out the best in so I'll take advantage of such easy subject matter to practice on. 

Sarah, you know what I like about you?   I like that you:

1.  Have triple my energy in that one body of yours
2.  Bring baked goods anywhere and everywhere
3.  Know me well
4.  Put others needs before your own
5.  Always look cute
6.  Love life
7.  Whip up a home cooked meal like it required no effort at all
8.  Get me
9.  Rejoice when others rejoice and mourn when other mourn, better than anyone I know
10.  Are a gift giver
11.  Never run out of words :)
12.  Call me out on things and don't let me wallow
13.  Are beyond organized ("E+")
14.  Bring things up if they are bugging you and don't let them simmer
15.  Are an absolutely incredible mom
16.  Have been my biggest cheerleader the last 15 years
17.  Show up
18.  Have an uncanny ability of creating and keeping traditions
19.  Celebrate the little moments of life
20.  React with genuine enthusiasm to the people in your life
21.  AND while opening gifts.  You could open toilet paper and be thrilled
22.  Know what truly matters in life
23.  Run a household more smoothly than I've ever witnessed
24.  Model doing family life well
25.  Chose not to let consumerism and materialism take part in your life
26.  Love the Lord
27.  Feel life deeply
28.  Know how to be a true friend
29.  Are always growing and calling women in your life to grow too
30.  Love me regardless

HAPPY 30th. 

Happy Birthday, Nolan Brady!

Oh Nolan,

Before you arrived I anticipated my heart would stretch a bit to accommodate loving two from my womb.  I never imagined how it would bubble up to the top and flood over the sides.  Nolan Brady, I can not even express the joy you bring to our family and how thrilled I am that you arrived three years ago today.

Since about the time your muscles learned to smile, you've been grinning ear to ear.

Auntie Sarah named you Mr. Congeniality of the family.  Is it any wonder why?!

You redefined terrible twos as terrific twos.  It's not that you never have your tired and whiny days, but  more often than not, you are bursting with love and gratitude for life.  You have taught me the power of "thank you."  I wish I could claim credit, but in this case, you have been the teacher, with your ever enthusiastic and unprompted thank yous.

Nana describes you as a lover.  It fits perfectly.  Like a few nights ago when you came down the stairs at bedtime to tell Daddy you needed to give him one more giant hug then back you went to bed.  Or how you constantly tell both of us you love us "berry, berry buch " (because rhyming is currently your favorite joke).  You respond with utmost enthusiasm to seeing people you love, like the last time I told you would see Maddy:  "Yes!  We get to see MADDY!  I LOVE Maddy!  She is my FAVORITE friend!"

I don't know how two introverted parents produced a social butterfly, but you are it.  You have decided the college student you have met twice at Daddy's games is your friend.  She became your "friend" after you stood there grinning slyly waiting for someone in the stands to notice you and smile back.  You love smiling at the people at the grocery store, and you will tell the bank teller about your entire weekend if given the chance.

You like to get the crowd to laugh, something I have no ability to relate to.  This is hilarious to watch in someone too young to know how to crack a joke.  You do a spin move and look for a reaction from a friend of mine you've just met.   You string rhyming words together or make up a nonsense song.  You dance for the crowd in the baseball stands.

Welcome to three, Nolan Brady.  So glad I get to be a witness to everything that makes you you.

We love you, all the way to the moon and back (a zillion times).

Signs of Spring

Mid April and we've been peering for signs of spring for much longer than I imagined we would be.  They are arriving slowly.  We rush to the window for the orange belly in our yard, as Nolan reminds us Robin is also who he dressed as two Halloween's ago.  In a few brave places flowers have risked peeking out in search of the sun, who as of late, has still been in hiding.

"Does anyone see any signs of spring," I call out as we drive down the road.   "There's no snow," C says.  Seeing as it is April, that is a start.  A slow start, but a start nonetheless.

I check my heart too, and I find more often than I care to admit a chill I hoped would have softened by now, this late into spring.  Signs of change yet, Lord?  Birth new things in me, I whisper.

My gratitude tree, which begun with high hopes, has been ignored entirely, still displaying March's Easter eggs and gratitude spoken another day, a moment other than today.  I chalk it up as part of my "INFP-ness," particularly the "P" which, translated, means I am much better at thinking of new ideas than implementing them.  But truth be told, "P" or not, I need this.  I need the daily habit of gratitude.

I sometimes expect flowers to bloom, fruit to appear, with ease.  I easily forget flowers bear testimony to planting done in an earlier season.

"Gratitude for the seemingly insignificant - a seed - this plants the giant miracle."  Ann Voskamp writes as she practices the planting.

Out of nowhere we had a delightful rush of warmth and my boys are dipping toes in Grandma's yet clean pool, yanking off wet pants and opting to go not only barefoot but pants-less.

No matter how late in the season, the warm days always sweep in with grace and wash away bitterness of a long winter with their wonder.

I speak my seeds of gratitude out loud now as I type, letting a few of the words fall through my stubbornly clenched jaw.  Gripe is always my default, but I know if I don't hold out my seeds I will miss the wonder of them blossoming when grace sweeps through.

I don't want to miss the wonder.  Oh Lord, let me not be too stubborn to miss the wonder.