In the beginning stages of dating, Austin and I talked a lot about how we envisioned God forming our family. Biological, fostered, and adopted were all words included in our talks. Our talks were equally as exciting as they were terrifying.
We also talked a lot about all the things we wanted to do as parents and didn't want to do as parents. (I know, I know, "just wait until you have kids" right?) We wanted to do humility and grace, always teaching our children parents are human and sinful too. We wanted our kids to know we will try to extend forgiveness and unconditional love the same way Christ does to us. We wanted to do adventure, laughter, and spontaneous. We wanted to do family dinners around the kitchen table, rustic camping trips telling stories around the fire, and silly road trip games. We didn't want to put kids before our marriage, causing strain and tension. We didn't want to do strict or sheltered. We didn't want to do a whole lot of iPads, iPhones, ieverything, or social media. We didn't want to pressure our kids into fitting societal standards. And here we are, almost two weeks into parenthood with our first little guy Mr.T. Whoa. It's really hard, especially with a million different sources telling you how to do this gig. Becoming an "instant parent" has been so humbling. The MSW degree I thought would be so beneficial in this process, yeah, I can throw that right out the window. None of my textbooks taught me how to deal with tantrums because I put sauce on spaghetti noodles or because we can't watch Spy Kids at 1am. However, I am thankful for the most important Book. The one teaching us that love conquers all. Our marriage and individual relationships with Christ are strengthening daily for the simple fact this is requiring more faith and trust than we imagined. I'm thankful for it. We are learning so much through this process. Before entering parenthood, I asked Austin to keep me accountable to one thing even if we were unable to keep the rest of our "do's and dont's": I want to experience joy by celebrating and cherishing every placement, every adoption, and God willing, every pregnancy. I also want to honor others who have experienced loss, infertility, and longing, by keeping complaints at bay and facing each day gratitude. Sometimes it's hard, and we certainly aren't doing this perfectly or heroically, but when you fight back with joy, God supplies your needs and reminds you to laugh when you're acting like a burrito wrapped in a towel to get your kid dried off.
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On Friday, you will be gone 13 years. The equal number of years you were here with us.
Nothing about this seems equal. Nick, you're next to me in my living room, in a memory book that sits on the coffee table. The worn pages so carefully tell our family story. You were a beautiful baby, full of charm with your dark brown eyes. Mom dressed you in the silliest, yet most adorable outfits. Mom and dad, grandpas and grandmas, aunts, and uncles, it is clear they were enamored by you. Mom wanted nothing more than to be your mom. Then you became a big brother. It looks like you adored Olivia and I when we were babies, holding us so carefully and gently. Your gentleness continued into my toddlerhood. My favorite picture is the one you're holding my hand while I'm picking a wedgie next to the sea doo. The pictures tell of your "all in" mentality that started from the get go, as there are countless pictures documenting your trends: cowboy boots with no other clothes on, Ninja Turtles, Power Rangers, Lions, Mike Piazza, Nike...the list goes on. Your smile is so big and wide in almost every picture. I can hear your booming laughter joking around with dad, or from when the time you accidentally triggered a stink bomb at a store on the way to South Carolina. As you grow throughout the book, your eyes lose their innocence and seemed to filled with a deep understanding and genuine empathy for the hurts in this world. You were full of sincerity. There is a picture of you pitching. You were such a good athlete and yet there was a time your integrity and love for people couldn't bear to strike a friend on the opposing team out. I can't count the times I've heard that you were the type of kid who "wore their heart on their sleeve." That is something I've always admired. You simply didn't care about being rough and tough when you saw others hurting or when you were experiencing pain and grief. You grew in humility, boldness, and love. The pictures speak so loudly of your love and passion for life. And like that, I'm lost in the world of what was as you sit next to me in a memory book. As the book nears it's end, there are pictures of our community, who rallied around us and kept your memory alive through golf outings, Steggie Classics, quilts, dinners, and so much more. There are pictures of your tombstone which snaps me back into reality quicker than any other picture in the whole book. Nick, we want nothing more than to have you sitting next to us at the next family gathering. If you could see a memory book documenting the 13 years following your death this is what you would find: Your baby sister, the ones you made up those 3 crazy code words with, she will be turning 21 in a few short months. She's absolutely beautiful. She's also quite the fashionista. I think she gets her love of "brands" from you. You would be so proud of her bravery and strength. She's lost a lot but she never gives up. And your parents? You would see two souls who have fought harder than anyone I know for their marriage and the happiness of their remaining children. You would see two selfless people who were thrown into grief and still decided to follow Jesus without turning back. Your dad is still hilarious and your mom is still kind as ever. I'll say it Nick, you would see four tired and weary eyes, who miss their son and an entire family who has kingdom vision, awaiting the promise of Heaven. We love and miss you fiercely. |
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Hi! I'm Haley. Archives
May 2019
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