turning 9

Dear Mason,

Somehow in the middle of all of the December mayhem, you turned 9.

It's unbelievable really, and until you're living the days that turn into years that speed right before your very eyes faster than you're prepared for them to, do you truly understand what people mean when they say "you're going to miss this."

I'm already missing it and it happened only 15 days ago.

15 days ago I picked you up from school and headed back to Hermiston.  You thought we were going to the Panda Inn Buffet for dinner and didn't understand why we had to wait for dad. I tried to keep you both entertained as we sat in the parking lot at Heller & Sons, but you were restless and I was exasperated.

What did I expect?  You had just celebrated your birthday all day long and managed to have a couple of extra ice cream bars left over from your classroom party to boot.  A sugar high turned sugar low, exhaustion, and hunger for more excitement aren't good ingredients for a joyful wait in the car on any day - let alone your birthday.

As the seconds turned to minutes, your frustration level mounted, but being the intuitive mom that I am, I decided to call your dad and have him to just meet us there.  You breathed a sigh of relief thinking we were just going next door, but that sigh quickly turned into sobs as I drove out of Hermiston toward Tri-Cities promising you that you'd love where we were going.

You wanted nothing to do with any of it.  I had ruined your birthday.  You wanted to go home.  I only do what I want to do and never listen to you.  ... It went on and on and on.

I kept driving, turned the music up a bit, and ignored your tantrum the best I could - quietly laughing to myself, but kind of wanting to cry too.  At 9, you still know how to throw a fit that sends me into another place in my mind entirely - and not in a good way.

5 minutes later, you and Mack were sound asleep and we were 25 minutes closer to one of the greatest entertaining meals of your 9 year old life.

When I parked the car, you woke up a bit disoriented and still upset. You read the sign and insisted that you hated Japanese steak or whatever it was we were going to eat, and I laughed out loud.  Oh Mason, you are your father's child.

Your dad's pickup pulled into a spot just a few spaces down from ours  within minutes, and when the doors opened and you saw Papa & Mor-Mor, Mimzy and your dad get out, you tried to hide your smile and act like you weren't surprised, but you were.  Mor-Mor gave you a tight squeeze, sang a quick song. and then did her very best to convince you that this was going to be the best birthday dinner ever.  You still weren't convinced, but your frustration was gone and we headed inside.

The rest of the story doesn't need words.  It just needs snapshots of the joy the next 2 hours held.  Joy that couldn't have been bought any other way.  Joy that was worth the agony that lead up to the moment you realized this was going to be something very special.

You're 9 ... and your wishes may not all come true - if you even believe in that sort of thing ... but you certainly aren't ever going to forget what it's liked to be surprised in the best kind of way any time soon.

May you grow to appreciate the surprises life hands you - accepting them with grace and a whole lot of happiness - because honestly Mason, life is supposed to be celebrated and trusted and believed in even when it doesn't make sense.  Someday it will make sense and you'll be glad you chose joy!

Loving the 9 year old you with all that I am,

Mom

carrying those in need

Dear Mason, 

Just over a week ago, all 4 of us were crammed into the front seat of the white flatbed pickup.  There wasn't really a need for a seat belt, and the road we were on was one that sees little traffic - especially on Christmas Eve.

It was an afternoon like any other afternoon, and we were filling water troughs and checking fences.  The sun was shining in the brightest of ways and the afternoon light was filled with warmth even though the ground was as cold and hard as can be.

We turned left where we usually turn right and found ourselves at the troughs in the southwest corner of the Simpson's stubble field with big puddles and enough mud to make any little boy happy.  You cheered for joy when you saw the biggest puddle of all and didn't even wait for the pickup to come to a complete stop.

Probably less than 4 seconds passed, and Mack realized that we had forgotten his muck boots. I cringed and so did you. Here you were - right on the edge of a whole bunch of Christmas Even fun and only one of you was going to really be able to enjoy it.

But before I could even come up with a suggestion - you had it all figured out.

I think when you're a brother, these things just come to mind naturally - without the slightest hesitation - because you don't like to do much alone and it's always more fun with two.

What I was most impressed with was that there was no hesitation for you to carry Mack around on your back. It didn't matter how heavy he was or how uncomfortable it may have been - you just wanted him with you.  You didn't want him to miss the chance at free joy and I know in your heart, you knew it was worth the extra "weight."

Thank you for having strong arms and legs, and an even  stronger love for your brother.  You're not always the kindest or gentlest big brother, but at just the right times and in just the right ways, you are able to say I love you without saying a word.

May you always look for ways to carry those in need of joy - especially your brother,

Mom

sunshine found ...

Dear Mack,

You've spent the entire day happy and oh how this makes your mama even happier.  Your brother left today for a big trip with your two older cousins and you got "left behind."  We didn't think you were quite ready to be away from us for an extended amount of time, and certainly not out of the country.  Honestly, I'm a bit nervous about your brother being away for 8 days, but I wasn't about to admit that to him or anyone else.

We went to town this morning right after he left and picked out a movie at the redbox machine at the grocery store for surprise #1.  The best part was, there was no arguing about what movie to choose and you've watched it over an over again without Mason giving you grief.  It was the best $1.20 I spent all day.  Thankfully, you are easy to please and are pretty content at keeping yourself entertained - I just hope it lasts for the next 7 days - Lord willing.

While dad and I pulled back tarps and loaded the flatbed late this morning, you worked on the dairy barn catastrophe collecting nails from the boards scattered all around.  Papa Roy and Papa Gary would be proud of your skills with a hammer and your joy in "saving" old nails to use again.

There's a lot about life at 6 that is wonderful about you.  Your freckles, your super long eyelashes, they way your chin jets out when you're serious, your crazy untamed hair, your expressive eyes, and even the way you are determined to pound the life out of ice and boards and nails with any hammer you can get your hands on. Luckily your pounding didn't pound a hole through the trough tonight. That wouldn't have been so wonderful.

Thank you for smiling today and not shedding one tear about your brother being gone.  I wasn't sure how the initial separation was going to go, but redbox and Crayola saved the day.  Who would have guessed that crayons that draw on windows would be worth gold in the eyes of you?!

Loving the flowers you drew just for me on this cold, but beautiful day in December, 

Your Mama

sharing the same sky

Dear Mason,

I raced the sun home tonight.  Mack was asleep against the console and the dogs were snoring in the back seat.  Your dad was in the water truck in front of me, and I had two troughs strapped on the back of the flatbed.  We're almost done hauling water.  Almost.
You took your first flight in an airplane today, and I can't even begin to imagine what you thought about the whole experience. In just 8 short days, I'll get to hear all about it ... and I'm counting down the minutes already.
Anyway, I know I'm rambling, but just as I came up over the ridge by the hay shed tonight, there was this amazing contrail shooting across the sky, and you could see the jet perfectly.  I almost started crying for the silliest of reasons - but mostly because you're on the trip of a lifetime and I'm so excited for you.
I couldn't get in the house to my camera fast enough, but I did manage to get a picture of the sun whispering goodbye. Whispering goodbye on your first night far, far away from us.
I'm hoping you're smiling & soaking in the goodness that is happening for you right now ... and I'm praying you're still wearing your belt buckle with pride even after the chaos with airport security.

Missing you as we share the same sky hundreds of miles apart & blowing you a kiss across the sea of fog at home ~

Mom

this thing about a park.

I'm almost certain that God created parks. That may seem a bit silly, but when you think about it, it just makes sense.

You see, He has been and always will be about joy and freedom, laughter, and movements that say I trust in what I've put my faith in and even upon.

I see Him in the creating of human tunnels with perfectly balanced feet.

I see Him in the sliding - hoping we'll eventually stop without a crash.

I see Him in the smile when we've made it to the top.

He's in the blurriness ... and He's in the still.

He's in the holding on and in the letting go.

He's in the balance, He's in the spins, and He's in the shakiness of the scariest of moments.

He's in the disappointment and the watching from a distance.

He's everywhere around the park & I think He's even begging us to come back as we walk away because parks are His business.  They were created just for us - with our joy and happiness in mind.

Those slides, those stairs, those poles & monkey bars ... we'll I think they are a reminder that child like faith is something we need to visit more often.