Merry Christmas | 2014

These people… they are my heart.  I remember the first bloom of love for my husband… I grew up loving him, really.  We’ve been together, first as best friends, for what seems forever.  I married him as a child.  I was 18 and I had known for years that he was my perfect, “other self,” in the words of George Washington about his Martha.  I call him My David, because that’s what he is.

I also remember the overwhelming expanse of love I felt for my Noah when we was born.  He came to us early, by our standards, but perfectly on time according to God’s special plan.  He was delicate, born at 32 weeks, struggling moment-by-moment for that next breath.  And he’s struggled every day of his life in little ways and big.  But what a blessing those struggles have been for us as a family!  They have forged into our hearts deep roots of faith in our Lord, trusting our Heavenly Father for every breath, every step, every growth, every milestone met.  My sweet Noah taught me love in a way I could never comprehend before.  I thought it would kill me it was so overwhelming.  I remember crying every time I visited him in the NICU, sobbing.  I didn’t want anyone there with me because I realized it was ridiculous.  The nurses asked me at first, “Are you okay?  Can we help?” and I said, “I’m just so thankful he’s still breathing!  Look at him… he’s so perfect!”  After that they let me have my moment to weep in gratitude to the One who gives each breath.  I still cry all the time when I pray for my sweet boy, when we struggle through moments in life, when he accomplishes something that is so ‘typical’ and I know, because I’ve been with him each step, that it’s the culmination of hours and hours that build up to years of work to reach that very typical moment.  And I laugh in utter joy and delight with him as he surprises me with his brilliant memory, and races to be the first one to hug and kiss me each day, as he makes me special meals and colors special pictures for me.  My Noah… yes, he’s my very heart.

And then my second baby boy, who is not so much of a baby anymore.  I remember thinking that there was no way under the sun that I could possibly handle any more love in my heart, and I worried how it would be with my second child.  My dear friend, Aly, and I talked about it, worried over it together because we were at the same place in life.  But I loved him from the moment I knew he was in my womb.  He tried to outdo his brother by coming even earlier, but with much medical help and months spent in the bed, God was merciful and sweet Silas stayed put until he was finished cooking.  And Silas came into the world and stole my heart in an entirely new way.  The moment of his first breath was the moment I experienced that strange mother-love-phenomenon… that your heart can grow exponentially and miraculously to encompass overwhelming amounts of love and that you won’t actually die from it, but will be strengthened and molded and deepened and blessed in unfathomable ways.  I think of my dear friend who has 10 children.  How can she stand it?  Too much of a good thing is a wonderful thing.  I love that for her!  Little Silas taught me love in new ways.  He was and has always been tiny.  He has experienced health scares and struggles that have kept me up more nights than I can count, sent me to the ER more times than I can possibly keep track.  I have cried on the phone with my doctors, saying, “But he was supposed to be my healthy one.”  I’ve cried on the phone with our elder at our church saying, “I just can’t help him and it kills me.”  I’ve cried in the parking lot at church with that elder’s dear wife, who has since moved on to Heaven, as she wept and said, “Denise, God gave your boys the perfect mother.  You are going to make it just fine.”  I remember the day before Silas was having a muscle biopsy for one test, and I was completely overwhelmed.  That night I was lying on my face in the dark of my living room after everyone was asleep, sobbing my heart out and arguing with the Lord.  I remember telling Him, “I didn’t know that sometimes with faith it means hanging on by your very fingernails, begging You to not let me fly off into oblivion.  I didn’t know it was so hard.  But he’s yours.  Do what you see best with him.  Help me to trust you with that.”  I kept thinking of that man in the book of Mark who said, “Lord, I believe.  Help my unbelief!”  I was that man.  That was the night I learned that, through my boys, God was teaching me things about Him – His comfort, His strength, His hardness, His tenderness, His mercy, His faithfulness, His mystery, His truth, His love – that I had never seen before.  Silas still has some health struggles, but has mercifully been cleared just this year from his greatest threat.  I had never before known the joy of that moment!  My Silas.  Silas is my mini-me.  He is my firecracker and the delight of my heart.  He is my baby.  While it is true that I don’t have favorites, I do recognize that there are many ways that Noah is a mystery to me, and yet I know Silas.  I know his gifts and his struggles.  I know him.  And just like his brother… My Silas, he is my heart.

I love watching these little boys grow into little young men.  I love hearing their thoughts and ideas and dreams.  I love listening in as they’re playing make-believe.  I love watching them grow.  Noah lost a very dear man to him this year, his horseback riding teacher, to cancer.  I loved watching the imprint Mr. Peter made on his life, and though it broke my heart, I loved watching Noah experience grief and how he handled it because God has a merciful way of turning pain into beauty in our hearts.  I saw that happen with Noah.  I love hearing them pray, especially Silas.  He speaks with the Lord in such a respectful, yet natural way.  There are no fillers.  There are no recited lines.  There is only truth and his heart in response to that truth.  It’s humbling.  I love watching their love for each other – how they take care of one another, in accordance with their strengths.  They are each other’s best friend.  And I love watching my David with these precious boys.  He is tough and strict and funny as all get out.  He’s creative and silly in his subtle way that makes it even more hilarious than my dancing and goofiness.  He expects extraordinary things, and they consistently and eagerly meet those expectations.  He requires respect when I get lazy, and I’m so thankful.  He is patient with them in ways that boggle my mind.  What a gift to me, and to them.  I love watching them grow, and I love watching him walk with them, helping them grow.

So… I’m sharing my heart with all of you.  My David.  My Noah.  My Silas.  They are gifts from the Lord that I never knew to ask for in quite the way they were given.  And they are beautiful and perfectly perfect for me.

Merry Christmas, from my family to yours.