A really beautiful, fruitful garden takes time. It can’t happen overnight. It takes planning and planting and sunshine and rain. A fruitful garden must be tended…
33 Years in the Making
A marriage, a life, an enduring friendship, a love that lasts, a love that creates, a love that makes a place, a love that can still be silly, but wildly, seriously passionate, too. It takes 33 years to fall so hard, to break-up and make-up because there simply is no other there there. In good times, in bad…
It takes 33 years to have 5 kids and see them grow into human beings you find to be more fascinating than you can believe and to let them become, watching as bits and pieces of yourselves walk around the planet doing well – doing good, bringing glory to God by being who He made them to be. Thirty-three years.
It’s like a blip on the radar screen of time, but this time, our time, this love, our love, these days, our days – they have taken us 33 years to navigate, to tame, to experience, to taste, to cry over, to hold close, to run from, to do badly and to do well. In times of joy, and in times of sorrow…
It has taken us 33 years to get here. I…take you…to be my…
And oh yes, there have been bouquets of flowers and you’ve heard more of my laughter than anyone on earth ever will. And there have been love songs and passionate kisses and just plain times of sweet satisfaction with the life we have lived as honorably as we could and with the children we have raised and their children, now, too. For better…
But there have been agony and night seasons that sent friends fleeing for the hills and you have caught my tears and moved closer to bear my pain. And we have failed miserably sometimes as lovers, sometimes as parents, and as a family, and we’ve had to labor with intensity through great pain, harder than can be imagined, to repair the breeches, restore the losses. For worse…
It takes 33 years for this to be: for us to be us, for the children we raised to be the people they are, for 9 beautiful grandbebes to reward our fruitfulness with so much joy and delight. To have and to hold…
This blessed life was not built in a day, nor in the heated passion of our fall into deep love. It has taken 33 years of rights and wrongs, and good and not-so-good, but overwhelmingly lovely, oh-so-very lovely, love-filled days to get here, with you. For in the times there was nothing else to do, we have lived on love.
It’s taken 33 years for me to have more than I ever hoped or dreamed and more than I deserved. You are my home. Please keep me. :)For as long as we both shall live…
We are not of the “selfie” generation and it takes us 30 or so tries to get us both in the picture, centered and looking roughly the same direction. This was at Peaceful Valley in the Rocky Mountains last week.
Happy Anniversary to the father of my children, to my life, my love, my home, the man of my dreams, and my most trusted friend {a spot well-earned}. Thank-you for your faithfulness, your steadiness, your commitment to love even when it has been challenged, and for knowing who you are in Christ. You’re the strongest man I know.
“You are so handsome, my love,
pleasing beyond words!
The soft grass is our bed;
fragrant cedar branches are the beams of our house,
and pleasant smelling firs are the rafters.” Ecclesiastes 1.16-17 NLT
It took 33 years to create a home and garden so fine.
July 23, 1981 was a wonderful day to begin the work of love.
PS // Oh, and – I know this is a long, serious blog post. I could just as easily have said:Dear Dave, I love your brown skin and strong arms. Plus your gorgeous hair and incredible lips. I love having your body in the bed next to me night after night and that you and me got to make this sweet family and still get to make out anytime we want. Happy Anniversary, lover. Signed, Me ;)
Cold showers just before jumping into bed on hot summer nights (with wet hair, of course).
Having my hair brushed.
A kiss on the cheek. Why are there not more cheek kisses? Must I go to Europe?
A real, honest-to-goodness, arms wrapped-tightly hug from some one who really loves me. And I, them. A good hug says, I surround you with my love, my devotion, my protection and all my resources. I embrace who you are. You are not alone…
The rich smell of my Rocky Mountain Thunder coffee brewing in the morning. The short wait is agonizing and tantalizingly aromatic.
The sound of real Rocky Mountain thunder just before a late afternoon storm. Heard several times this week.
Splashing in rain puddles with a grandbebe following one of those short, but powerful downpours.
Playing in the summer rain with my mutt because I don’t have anywhere to be and I don’t mind getting wet. In fact, I find it liberating – recalling the joys of childhood – back before hair styles and hair products had to be worried about.
A really good watermelon, so sweet and a little tangy, with a pleasant scent. After months of storing up the power of the spring and summer rains and bright, hot sunshine, cut open to be enjoyed, ice cold deliciousness. We ingest a hundred days of life-growing goodness {rivers of juice and mountains of red flesh} in the eating.
Soul…
Laughing so hard you cry real tears. Then you get to laugh again at the remembrance.
A movie theater with no one else there – and a movie you can just get. in. to. Perfection!
Watching a Youtube video so touching, you get goosebumps.
When an important person you admire and respect stops everything and gives you the simple gift of time, just time.
Getting to sing songs with some one who loves the music you love.
When you fall head-over-heels in love with the song because the melody is amazing and the words – the words(!) could have been something you could have written. The songwriters who tell our stories are insightful and extraordinary human beings, even if the artist who communicates them so well do get most of the glory.
Being understood. Being forgiven. Being liked. Being needed. Being valued.
When you haven’t blogged for a month and some one checks to make sure you’re ok.
Being a wife, a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a mom, a nonna – knowing you’re a woman with a million things to be grateful for and a good-enough sized group of people to love and share life with. As Amy Grant sang, “Baby, baby, I’m the lucky one.”
When some one just goes the extra mile for me in some way. Why is that so surprising these days? It opens my heart and soul right up – makes me feel so generous and apt to do the same thing back. So if we all just started going the extra mile…imagine it!
Averi (6) and Amelie Belle (4). No shopping trip would be complete without some team-work balancing feats.
The immensity and grandeur of life continually absorb and eradicate death’s power and presence.
-Wm. Paul Young in his novel, Cross Roads
Life is the quicker-picker-upper. ;) What keeps you fully alive and living and feeling good?
To celebrate the anniversary of your birth, I have words…
Of course, I do. Many words. Still, some 12 years since we met, I am so grateful you married our daughter and became a son to us. She wasn’t the only deliriously happy person about that, you know. You were an answer to prayers and a fulfillment of hope and Tara’s dream come true. :)
If for no other reason than that you chose my firstborn and love her so deeply (and have blessed us with two spectacular grandsons), I’d think you were extraordinarily smart and wonderful.
But there are many reasons I love and admire you and my heart is tender towards you.
There have been incredible times since you became one of us, since the early days when we could suddenly be in the room with you: you, so well-liked, so sought after and admired and we could know, beaming with pride, he’s one of ours. You married the beautiful Tara and got the bunch of us, foibles and frailties and all. As mother-in-laws go, too many times, I haven’t been the one I had planned I’d be and for that, I apologize. I hope for all the times I have failed to encourage and bless you and for all the times I may still let you down in this winding path called life, you can find it possible to forgive me.
But I hope you do realize that I love and admire you and my heart is tender towards you.
Thinking about you turning 33 has had me reminiscing {of course}.
Three sweet memories on your 33rd birthday
1// I remember years ago, when your hair was longer, some person(s) started referring to you as a surfer-dude, which was a totally erroneous label just because you have the ability to adapt immediately to culturally distinct people groups, one after the other, rather effortlessly. But was a silly summation.
Because, like Paul the Apostle, you can be Greek to the Greeks and a Roman to the Romans, skater to the skaters, or mighty man of prayer among the intercessors. You are fluent in joy-speak and compassion-mixed-with-mercy is a native tongue for you. Because you’re able to adapt and flow as easily among Christian-magazine-produced minister’s meetings as you are with well-known rockers-saved-by-grace backstage at festivals, an old-timer mistakes you for merely a surfer-dude, with no offense to surfer-dudes.
It may have never bothered you a bit, but it irked me that you might be boxed in.
Because the point was and is – the apostolic anointing, the call. You fit. You have what it takes to be part of many groups and streams and situations. I so very much admire your courage and ability in this.
2// I was also remembering a late summer night in 2006 in a barn east of Brighton. It was a night of ordination, really, doors open wide and the warmth of God’s smile permeating the atmosphere. The sun dropped slowly giving way to twinkling stars signifying God’s good pleasure as rich worship rose heavenward. I watched as you and Tara, in almost a second wedding ceremony of sorts, the sacredness so palpable, became wholly united (one voice, one heart, one mission), stepping out from the safe into the holy wild. Worship and the Word Movement revealed.
And those of us in that barn that night, the small group of us privileged to stand on that holy straw-strewn ground, were witnesses to divine oil poured out from heaven. We were the yes and amen as we watched this man and this woman courageously say YES with everything they had and we stood in agreement and echoed from our hearts, yes, so be it, Lord.
You had already gathered the familia around your table a month earlier and we’d spoken blessing and prayed over you, then, for this movement-to-be. But the barn night, it was a night of nights, as we all watched you emerge, your voices blended, such power pulled from deep places of humility. You could practically hear a thunderous “This is my beloved Dave and Tara, in whom I am well-pleased.”
It was one of the most amazing and powerful nights I’ll live, I guess. I was so honored to get to be there, watching, pondering, treasuring the beauty of God’s call on you both, as one. So grateful I got to witness the birth of something of this magnitude, so full of favor.
Philippians 1:3-6 – “I thank God every time I remember you. In all my prayers…I always pray with joy…being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.”
3// Then there was this festival we did together.
Man, those years meant so very much to me. In case I ever forgot to tell you or if time and circumstance has obscured the telling, thank-you for letting me be a part. I mean – God gave me something to share there, but how many men would be brave enough to let their mother-in-law be that close, anyway?
I love how God prepared me ahead of time {I still love the memory of the surprise of it} and you had the discernment to recognize and receive that and welcome me there. I will ever be grateful for that. It was the time of my life.
A blessing for you as we celebrate your life and look ahead this year…
And now, let me bless you and pray over you a little and impart some things I want you to remember. Is that ok? Let me assure you: I have asked God to edit me and I promise to do my best on letting Him! ;)
“Dave, may the Lord bless and KEEP you. May He make His face SHINE upon you and BE GRACIOUS to you; may the Lord turn His face toward you and give you PEACE.” (Numbers 6:24-26).
I bless your life, David Michael Powers. I bless the days He has planned for you and I thank God we get to be included in your fascinating so-many-cool-things-to-come story. How very wonderful for us! I bless the days we have known you so far {of course I do!} and all the ones we have left! You were uniquely crafted and specifically designed for God’s great purposes in these particular days on the earth. And to be in our familia. Now that is the coolest part!
I know God rejoiced when He was fashioning you in the secret place, and could not wait to celebrate and boast when you were born. Your parents both beam with delight when they are around you. I know they are soaking in the love of God in you, on you and through you! So I bless you to know {really know} the height, depth and breadth of His intense love for you – not for what you do or have done {as fantastic as it all is and will be}, but for who you are, as a man in his image and after His heart.
I bless your marriage to my lovely Tara-girl. She is the best thing I could ever give you. And we did so gladly present her to you at the front of that church as the setting sunbeams blazed through stained-glass windows but couldn’t hope to match the bright light of love passing between the two of you! There was not hesitation on our part in seeing her be joined to you, become one with you.
We raised Tara to be your wife, to love you, to walk in covenant with you. And we stood as witnesses that day to your marriage union and so we continue now to bless and pray protection over your marriage. We recognize what God has joined together and we pray that you are ever increased in love and oneness and laughter and mystery and discovery and romance and passion and friendship and rest. I pray that the wife of your youth will bring you joy and delight all the days of your life.
I bless you as a dad to the two magnificent grandsons you brought into my life {and God bless Hunter and Malakai!}. I pray that if there is any special grace or anointing or gift or heavenly blessing on my family of origin or me, that it be poured out on you and Tara and that through you it would be generationally passed on to Hunter-Magoo and Kai-Kai. Just the good stuff, though! :)
May each of your beautiful boys provide the opportunity for you to impart and teach and discipline and love and advise and find understanding about God’s heart towards you. And I pray you’ll have the wisdom to know how to bring them up, individually, to become the men God created them to be and that your ministry in your household will remain foremost in your heart.
And is it ok to say I am praying for increase and another blessed bundle of sweetness for you, too? Well, I am. Please do not refuse the gift of God in this area, and in fact: work for it! ;)
Worship. I bless your song, your music, your worship. I bless the psalmist in you that brings pleasure to the Father and Peace into the room. Your song opens many doors to many rooms and the song of the Lord, well, it is enemy-defeating, battle-winning treasure.
Word. I bless your leadership and pray you’ll be bold and humble and settled. I pray you’ll complete the things God started in you and through you. You have influence through your words of understanding. I remember seeing a glimpse in February 2003 and saying, “One day I’ll say ‘I knew him when..'” These are those days and I bless the work of your hands, the words of your mouth, and I pray that all the things you do and say in His name will bring God all the glory.
Movement. I bless you as a man of God, a man’s man, strong enough to be gentle. You have everything you need for the next step, the next rooms, everything. Hebrews 13:20-21 – “May the God of peace…equip you with everything good for doing his will, and may he work in us what is pleasing to him through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.”
Finally ~ May you live securely and have full supply (full!). And may you be filled with the measure of all the fullness of God (can you even fathom what that will look like?). I pray your joy is full as you walk the steps God has ordered for you, that you are satisfied and content. But also challenged and surprised!
I pray these things with abandon, I bless you with all I have which is so limited, but also by all He is and all His promises, which are so limitless.
2 Timothy 2:1 – “You then, my son, be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus.”
And the birthday guy sings…
He’s one of my all-time favorites. Ever!
I started cautiously liking you from the time we met (May 2002, Could he be for real, I wondered?). Then, very quickly, my admiration grew and I loved you deeply. I still do and my heart is very tender towards you. Always will be. On the occasion of the celebration of your birth {Happy Birthday!}, just wanted to say so. {mom}
So, this may be the latest I have ever been in posting a birthday blog, but the added days have only made me ever more grateful for you, the day you were born and all the days since…
I know, I know – I am always reminiscing about the days you kiddos were born and how those sacred, over-the-top-amazing moments changed my life forever. Maybe I see them through rose-colored glasses, but your arrivals were, to me, so monumental, so divinely, lightening-bolt powerful. Well, I mean they were like day six in the garden of Eden, the day God made man in His image. That’s a pretty big deal, I’d say.
And you own June, Tre-Tre. You own June days and purple irises and rose bushes in full bloom. You are the sound of cheering at church ball games and yellow layettes and a handmade diaper bag in dotted-swiss, Easter green, embroidered by Grandma with love. You are a hot summer and a headful of black hair with big, lacy barrettes that had plenty to hang on to. You are the baby girl who arrived to two of the sweetest, giggliest big sisters who mentioned you in their nightly prayers, calling you Twe-dessa-Christina (even though it should have been Tredessa Christine).
You were born in to love, a mommy and daddy who were still newlyweds, madly in love with each other and church life and our three little girls and afternoons splashing in the backyard wading pool while the radio played, “Never gonna let you go...”
You just slipped in unobtrusively and cuddled into a little corner of our lives and hearts and then we were 5, our little tribe. And 1983 is so special in my heart for your arrival. And June became a month I revere and romanticize for your birth. And you, my little mystery, were heaven-sent, without a doubt.
Happy Birthday to Tredessa Christine, my 3rd baby and the centerpiece of the little Rhoades familia.
Hey, Dessy-Pooh, you are an extraordinary woman, you are! I am still thanking God He sent you to us, He formed you and fashioned you in very interesting and distinct ways. You possess such strength, such deep-rooted fortitude, I’d put money on you over a tornado any day. Best of luck to the winds and waves that try to defy you, one who so deeply understands her place in God’s heart. They’d just as soon die down and whimper away than try to quench the fiery wall that is Dessa. Seriously.
Intrigue and espionage, power and war
You, my sweet (hasn’t the whole family always known?), could run America with your brain and mighty valorous heart, the wisdom of God and your anointed insight! The FBI or the CIA would be in good hands with you at the helm, if you decided against a bid for the White House, that is. :) I leave nothing outside the realm of possibility, for you, an Esther, a Rebekah, a Deborah, for sure – you are a viable leadership option for the healing of this nation in the hands of God. I for sure BELIVE that! Now if you can somehow miraculously do it without becoming a politician…
But that is the thing. You could and you will do amazing things in your life (because you have already started and accomplished so much), but your strength is that you are willing and always content to wait on God’s timing in your life, for your life. So few of us have mastered that or want to. The vision that speaks of the end (Habakkuk 2.3): Give it to me now, we demand. But not you, Dessy, you wait with a twinkle in your eye, a knowing in your heart, a calm spirit and determination in your step.
“For the revelation awaits an appointed time; it speaks of the end and will not prove false. Though it linger, wait for it; it will certainly come and will not delay.” Hab. 2.2-3
And you have a wisdom beyond your years and haven’t you used it to challenge my imprisonments, to bring enlightenment and yes, even some correction to your ol’ momma? You have. I will answer that for you, you little booger.;)And I take it from you.
But what else could I do from a daughter who has repeatedly, intentionally received the counsel of her mom and chosen to accept all God had for her through even me for her own life? I love that you know we were paired by God on purpose and that you have searched for the treasure in it, even when it has been hard to find at times! I appreciate you giving me credit for many of your wonderful attributes even though I know you far surpass me in most everything you put your hand to…perhaps just – everything!
I love that you still look for the things you can learn from me and call for baby advice when, like your sisters, you are a completely incredible mommy, so much smarter and better equipped at it than I ever was, but still, you ask me, “What did you do when...” and “How did you handle..?” And the years roll back – back – back and I am in 1983 again and just so grateful to God for the blessing of you that June day you were presented to me from Creator and for the blessing of you now.
So, let me speak this blessing and prayer over you as we celebrate the day you came and the life you are leading, woman of God, devoted daughter, admirable human being:
God make you righteous and strong and able. May your Creator deal with you as He does with the Daughter of Zion in His Word. His patience and loving care for His people is sure and He considers it an affront to Himself when the enemy threatens His royal offspring. And so I remind Him daily to guard and protect you the same way.
May God bless you and watch over you and keep you.
I pray that not only will He see you and notice you and hear you, but that you will know He does. I pray that not only will He hear your prayers and hear your heart’s cry and answer you in days of trouble, but that you will never forget to call out to Him.
You are quiet and not given to voicing every little thing, but at the faintest whisper from your lips, I pray God is watching and will attend to you, as He promised. May He bless you, spirit, soul, body, in fruitfulness, mothering, love and marriage, may He bless you.
I pray that you will prosper and be in health even as your soul prospers. I bless you on the occasion of the celebration of your birth and life with the blessing of God and His watchfulness over you.
May God shine His face toward you and show you favor and great grace.
I know your light and life make God smile. They make me smile. So, I pray that the warmth and power of His outrageous love for you and Ryan and Evangeline and all the little Faalands-to-come will just radiate like fire in you, through you, around you and for you.
Write words that will change everything, Dess. Soak in the Word of God for all you’re worth and love it and live it and stand on it for your home and marriage and life and mommying and calling and walk worthy because you are {in Him}. Bring order to chaos, spread numbers on sheets and make accounts whole and holy (those things you do so very well) . Speak out what God tells you because your words bring life to the lifeless, hope to the hopeless, and courage for the battle.
May God be favorably disposed towards you, and may He grant you peace.
I pray God just face-to-face, eyeball-to-eyeball gives you His absolute approval and you have the courage and grace to just receive it and soak it in. So that all those dreams you and Ryan have – dreaming of ways you can support the things of the Kingdom, all the plans and aspirations that are bubbling up in both of you to change the world and make a place for the Presence – may you be courageous and bold and strong and take hold of them.
{Remember the little girl whose favorite worship song for many years was “Be bold, be strong, for the Lord thy God is with you! I am not afraid, I am not dismayed, for I’m walking in faith and victory, yes…”? I do! I believe her battle cry took root!}
And may you live in peace, peace with God and with man and may your household be a place of rest and joy, refreshment and grace.
Beloved daughter, treasured friend~
I couldn’t have dreamed you up. You are beyond anything I could have asked for or even thought a daughter should be. You have been a delight since I first laid eyes on you in Kokomo 31 years ago. You’re a peacemaker, a thoughtful friend and an honoring daughter. May you receive and reap the full benefit of all you have given and sown to be so. I love you truly, madly, deeply, my darling daughter, my girl-child. {With love from your oh-so-thankful mom}
Gavin turned 11. He also just got his 6th grade schedule, a different teacher for each subject – a middle-schooler. He has this big, authentic smile, a shock of the most amazing red hair, a sprinkling of freckles and an emerging sense of humor. He erupts into giggles over things I didn’t know he would get and it doubles my joy, triples my fun, quadruples my absolute love for him, this all-American boy.
He was my first grandbebe, my first oh-good-grief-I-am-undone feeling. I never thought I’d be one of “those” grandmothers – effusing and gushing, feverishly, wild-eyed in-love with some small child not even my own.
I mean – I loved my little munchkins, the five children I birthed. I thought they were just unusually talented and amazing and they brought Dave and I so much joy. Then they grew up and they became the people I most admire in this world. But I wasn’t really mentally expecting grandparenting to be that big of a deal.
But then Gavin arrived and – GEEZ-LOUISE!!! He was breathtaking. He was astonishingly beautiful (well, he has beautiful parents, so…), a magnificent tiny being, so impressively smart from the start and his smiles thrilling beyond belief. He .changed. everything . with his bright eyes and full-of-wonder curiosity. He really did. He altered my identity by adding this whole new generational dimension and infused our familia with new wonder and excitement.
The Harry Potter I made for him for his 11th birthday
Gavin-L-K // YOU are amazing!
So, of course, I MUST bless your life and thank God for you. I must tell you that I speak words of blessing over you and I speak kindness and good wishes over your life because I love you deeply and want it to go well with you. I want you blessed in the city and in the country and I want all you put your hands to and all the things you attempt to do and to be to prosper and be over-the-top successful.
I pray for you to be strong, not just physically, but in your heart and mind and to be a young man of courage and conviction – to stand up for holy things and protect people around you who can’t protect themselves. I pray you will right wrongs and be a generous giver to people in need.
So I share this scripture with you on the occasion of your 11th birthday and I like it because it was originally delivered to a regular man named Gideon who was just working hard threshing some wheat in a winepress. I am not sure what that means exactly, but I know God’s people were in trouble and they needed a leader, a Judge – some one to help them battle out of the oppression they were living in, some one to answer their cries for help. And here was Gideon just doing what was right, day in and day out. And because Gideon was faithful when no one was watching (except God), He chose Gideon to lead the armies, to save His people.
I can see you as a Gideon…And so the angel appeared with God’s message to Gideon, and I speak it to you, over you,
“The LORD is with you, mighty warrior.” Judges 6.13
Really, Gavin, you can do anything. You will be amazing in your life. The sky is the limit, my Gav – if love is the fuel that powers your plane, then between God and your parents and your Gramps and me, your plane will fly to infinity and beyond and never come down.
He loves to garden and eat tomatoes as much as me. The kid is a genius, I tell you!
I cannot remember life before you-
In all the world, no matter what happens, my heart for you will always and ever be partially, at least, pinned to your sleeve, hanging on for dear life – never letting you go. I am so pleased with the person you are, so proud of the young man you are becoming, so excited to know the blessing of God on you because you are such a parent-honoring kid! I just think you’re pretty cool.
Hoping all your wishes come true on your 11th birthday and the whole year through! I love YOU! {nonna}
NOTE: All photos by his mom, whose beautiful work can be seen at MayDae.com
Her mommy is a fantastic photographer and I fall in love with the photos she gets of my grandbebes (her children and nieces and nephews) :)
Our lively, darling grandbebe #4, Gemma May just turned 7 a few days back. She is silly and giggly and has this amazing cascade of red hair that just knocks you out. She dances, she acts, she smiles with her eyes, and she wears glasses now.
I can wrap my arms around her two or three times, wisp of a thing she is. But what I love most is the delightful, insightful, thoughtful conversation. The dancing light behind her eyes when we talk, behind those super-cool specs, sets a soft breeze in motion. Gemma May is more sugar than spice, she is sweetness and demure. She’s the girl next door and a little exotic, too.
I love this little girl like there is no tomorrow!
This is the cake I did for Gemma. A ballerina. In Gemma’s very proportions, give or take a centimeter! :)
So, Gemma-Roo/Gemma-Loo, let me just tell YOU:
I bless the day you were born, the beautiful-beautiful May day you came along with that perfect round, soft-as-silk head and the sweetness of that button nose and those little pink lips from which so many laughs have escaped since. I bless the days of your life, all of them, as you grew and downy-soft red hair started curling every which direction and you could barely talk, but you could sing songs from Annie and do the dances with gusto!
I bless the days of pre-school and coloring and cheering every time you did something wonderful, which was every 8.4 seconds and pattering around in your galoshes with an umbrella in the rain and singing, oh-so-much singing.
I bless your life and I bless your heart and I bless your dreams and your wishes and your gifts and talents and I bless your place in this world. You know why? Because I love you and I can. I am your Nonna and I get to speak a blessing over you that they actually hear in the halls of heaven!
So I am agreeing with God’s plan for you, with His total delight in your life – and all the things He planned for you when He created you for us. Everything God wants for you and all the things Jesus is saying about you when He intercedes for you, I am shaking my head YES-yes-yes! And may the angels attend to you, and keep you safe!
And Gemma? Even though I never-ever-ever want your heart to be broken in any way for any reason, I do pray your heart will always be flesh and blood and that you will feel the intensity of living with all the sensitivity you now possess and that in spite of anything life throws at you, you’ll keep feeling and risking love and refuse to have a heart of stone.
For you are beautiful and your thoughts and feelings are precious beyond words. And oh, my sweet, your Nonna loves you. You are, as your name indicates, a jewel, a rare treasure.
And now, here is a promise for you, from the God of good promises:
“On that day the Lord their God will rescue his people,
just as a shepherd rescues his sheep.
They will sparkle in his land
like jewels in a crown.” Zechariah 9.16 NLT
Of course, the grand-girls are always actually interpreting songs from Frozen these days, but I didn’t leave that music in because YouTube would poo-poo it. Imagine the Frozen soundtrack, though.
I love celebrating you and your birth~day, week, month. Happiness and love, darling Gemma!
Oh, Stephanie, Happy Birthday…I am thinking of the day you came and all the days you have changed our lives…
I was browsing through your baby book and 1st year calendar, neither of which I kept well at all, I am sad to say. But I saw enough to stir intoxicating memories of really treasured times in the early 80s with a little girl who won my heart as I reached through the small opening in your “incubator” and you wrapped your tiny fingers around my pinky.
Everything about your impending birth, from the life-and-church filled, busy days leading up to your almost 6-week early arrival to the months that followed were just amazing light-filled, Technicolor, fun, happy, frazzled and most cherished days.
You were born to one big sister and some young, energetic, wildly-in-love parents who were over the moon about every single part of the pregnancy and expectancy of you. Our Thursday night birth classes were highly romantic date nights to us. We’d drive home in a buzz, planning and dreaming, the radio playing Chicago or Air Supply!
It’s odd to think that when you were born, boy or girl? was still a surprise! That, coupled with your early arrival {which was a real surprise}, left us pretty unprepared for what was happening. We thought maybe we’d have a boy and name you after your dad, or maybe name you Christopher Michael, or Tristan (yes, “Tristan” was a name on the short list).
So when the administrator came to ask your name, we were a bit befuddled. We hadn’t much time to choose and so your name came, heaven-sent, I think now.
So it was Stephanie (“crowned one,” “victorious crown,” “crowned in victory”). Stephanie May (for the merry-merry month in which you so delightfully arrived). And from that moment, we were a household of children, multiples of babies and little girls and dolls and stuffed animals and chatter {oh, the chatter} and heart-warming conversations. You started a party, you and your sister, that was so much fun we could barely call a halt.
But you were so tiny, your lungs undeveloped…
And when I was too stupid to even understand how very grave the situation surrounding your entry was, when I should have insisted on going to Indianapolis in the life-ambulance with you back in the days before they knew what damage might be caused by ripping a baby from her mommy minutes after birth and saying, “Stay put,” I am so glad God gave you to me and kept you safe.
I am so grateful there was no distance ever in my heart from my tiny, tiny girl-baby, with me at Howard Community in Kokomo, you at James Whitcomb Riley Children’s Hospital in Indianapolis. I promise you, Stephie, I got there as fast as I could. My heart was beating with yours, my love never once let you go. There was much we didn’t know back then, but I know God went with you and He held you until I could.
It was years before I realized, after reading preemie studies, that as much as my empty arms were missing you in those first hours and days, as much as my longing was breaking my heart, you had to be wondering where I’d gone, too – the sound of my heart and my blood pulsing nearby… I am so glad they understand these things better now.
But you were always passionately burned into my heart and soul. I fought my first bloody battle with the enemy for you. For this child I prayed… I hope your tiny little center-of-being somehow knew it was so.
It was all a whirlwind after that. God healed your lungs – poof – breath of life into them. You thrived, you developed, you healed so quickly it surprised the medical teams. But no wonder there: you were anticipated, received, welcomed, adored, sung to, kissed, snuggled and loved, all 4 pounds, 8 ounces of the baby we brought home just 12 days after being told it would be “months.” Like a movie scene going fast forward on the DVR, I remember a wisp of a baby girl in a yellow carrier/car seat (so dangerous by todays standards I can’t even find a picture of one on Google). I can see a very small baby girl whose eyes would search the room, taking in details, cheeks full and kissable. A little night owl she was, from her earliest days. Like her daddy.
Mixed up days and nights, tiny appetite, staying tiny, wearing doll dresses…
The baby girl “catches” up to growth statistics at one and becomes a toddler in a teal-blue Martha Miniature dress, and at once her humor is notable, her conversations with Sunday School teachers get replayed for the awwwww-factor.
She giggles and sings. Oh my goodness, the singing! She falls asleep with a song and wakes up in melody…
Her hair, like silk, grows thick and shiny, her rosy cheeks and pink lips the stuff Hollywood pays big money to obtain. Laughter and utter hilarity reign nightly in the yellow room of three sisters on Armstrong Street. She chases and teases her big sister. Soon she is leading younger siblings about, teaching them everything she knows (which is a lot).
And there is a gentleness behind her eyes, a knowing, something deep taking place in the middle of a big, noisy familia.
She goes to school and becomes a thoughtful friend, a bright student, a girl who cares for issues and the earth and animals and other’s hearts and feelings. People comment, “Stephanie is special,” I swell inside. “Stephanie is a rainbow, a multi-faceted, colorful girl.” “Oh, look at her,” I often heard when sharing photographs, “she is just beautiful.”
Years speed by and she is smack-dab in the middle of silliness and mayhem, but also close and soft-hearted {mystically sweet}, a hand-holder.
Her hair gets curly at puberty, just like her mommie’s did and her humor becomes sharper, her wit more keenly developed. And while traditional, public school methods (not to mention home school) could not capture her brightest shine or contain her unique genius, it also could not dull the quantum creativity, the kaleidoscope of sparkling treasure and color emanating from her brilliant, astute and observant mind.
Girl becomes beauty becomes alluring becomes woman becomes Tristan’s fascinating wife and then a mommy herself.
And even still, Stephanie {my second-born and much-beloved daughter}, so accomplished and courageous, so influential and efficacious, stands at the youthful brink, just hitting her stride, just beginning to be all and do all she will, all for which she was created and healed to be and do.
Because the breath of life is so wholly, fully strong in her, the healing so complete – she will create Gardens of Edens, and place brilliant stars in night skies and build cities of ideas with long-awaited answers to mysteries. She will and she has and she is, already.
Oh my goodness, Stephanie. You are an amazing spring of crystal clarity and rich depth mixed with unstoppable determination. I sensed from the time you were very small that you thought deeply and felt keenly and understood beyond your years. You’re surely one of the smartest, most intelligent people I have ever met.
And so I bless you, I bless your life…
I recognize and publicly receive the full beauty of God’s work in you, in your heart and life and teaching and leading and creating and informing and helping people. You were formed perfectly with great purpose and I just concur with the God of the Universe that what He has seen and planned and prepared for you is good and far-reaching. I recognize His iconoclastic call on you (to change the landscape for the better), His stamp of extreme approval and His delight in you and I thank Him for trusting me to be your mommy, then your mom, then a woman who admires and loves you deeply.
Like anyone else who is ever near you for even the shortest time, I have learned so much from you, received your grace and forgiveness so many times and been the joyful recipient of your humor and creativity, your thoughtful gifts {you’ve been especially gifted to give good gifts} and wealth of insight and knowledge on the world in general. I am so grateful to get to be near these things.
And so I bless you back and pray that all you have given comes back to you by the armfuls. I pray that the result of you helping hundreds, if not thousands of people toward renewed health returns to you in supernatural vitality and God-given strength (May the same power that raised Christ Jesus from the dead quicken and strengthen your mortal body, just as it did when you were born). I pray increased love and joy in your heart, total peace and all the wisdom you need, when you need it. I pray you’ll prosper and find success in every area you put your hand to and continued favor from the God who sees.
Of all the things I ever gotten to be part of, of all the days God planned for me, of all the people in the universe to get to know, getting to be your mommy and know you now are the best things I can think of, more than I ever would have hoped or dreamed.
I remember your belted, fit and flare house dresses while you mopped and ironed. I recall your pin curls and pony-tails and flats and when you first tried pantyhose, the revolutionary invention that saved you from a life of daily girdling.
Last November. My mom was telling me how perfect that leaf was.
I recall huge family Sunday dinners and the one piece of chocolate cake always missing from the corner – the way you rewarded yourself for having to get up and cook at 5 am on Sundays, go to Sunday School, then church, then drive lots of people home, then come home and feed us, then get us all back to church for the YPE and Junior choir before Sunday night service. You deserved every crumb of that chocolate cake corner, mamala.
You followed pops from church to church and city to city and made a potato dish at every single meal until Louisiana when you finally learned the right way to make rice, too.
You combed our my tangles an helped me finish cleaning my room because I always thought it meant a total reorganization and in-depth re-do and in my emotional collapse when the job took forever, you would start showing me how close I was to done – and I’d just sit there smiling, while you finished it. You saved me.
Mom was learning the art of a selfie.
You played the piano and taught me all the important songs every child should know like, “Well, it’s a highway to heaven,” and “Jesus on the mainline-tell Him what you want.”
And when I started choosing my own music, you so lovingly learned each one by ear and playing it in my invariably low-voiced key and you’d add harmony and oh, I miss singing with you, mommiekins!
You’re such a nice person – everyone wanted you for a mom. So many people all over the nation and probably in the nations where you have traveled and loved on people, too, love the Norma! But you really are my mom. And after losing several babies before me and having the doctors say you may never be able to carry to term (boy, were they wrong!), I love knowing how very much you looked forward to my arrival and how very glad you were to have me, 23 hand-sewn dresses as proof awaiting me…and 8 boys outfits, just in case.
Not long before Grandpa died, you were there, loving him, brightening his final days with fun and songs
The one life’s regret you have shared with me, in a life you have loved and embraced with gusto, is your sadness at not understanding your own mom and not being there for her, not “having time.” And I really think you were a wonderful daughter and she thought so, too. But it has helped me reflect a little more on what matters and hanging out with you is a big deal to me. You have shown honor to your mom, your stepmom and your dad, all gone now, and I am set on repaying you for it, so grateful for the chance.
Just a couple of years later, not long before she died, you were there, singing Grandma’s favorite songs to her. She was your stepmom, and you loved her for “stepping in” with so much love.
So many ways I love you and miss you, but my most recent memories are becoming my favorites. Because I laugh with you more than anyone else. You are hilarious and strong, and innocent and guileless, and silly and ornery and just plain lovely. You are the lasso queen and kick dad and me in the butt in corn-hole. You are pretty cool, it turns out. Happy Mother’s Day to the BEST there ever was! Still is!
And to the 4 lovelies who just amaze me
I have learned from each of you what grace under pressure looks like, what being great wives looks like. I see you each as such able, creative, successful business women and good-hearted ministers of grace. You please God, you wow others, you serve and love your families. And oh-my-goodness, you are just drop-dead-gorgeous, inside and out!
That is why, I have no doubt, God entrusted the 9 grandbebes to you, because He knew he could count on you to be who He called you to be and do what he called you to do in their lives. No small order. But you all four, Tara, Stephie, Dessa and Jovan – you are all doing it with such beauty, energy, zealousness and panache! I am so proud of all of you, so inspired my your lives. REALLY!
“you’re my first born child, and the person who first showed me the miracle of this love a mother has for her child. ” ~Elizabeth Noble, Things I Want My Daughters to Know
EldeenAnnette.com
I know where I was at this exact minute, on this day in history in 1979. I know how I spent the day. I remember everything leading up to its’ culmination at 7:16 pm from my waking thought at exactly 5:55 am, just before the alarm would go off.
What was that? Am I in labor? Eyes widen, fully awake!
Thirty-five years ago at this exact time, I was being born.Me – this mother, now grandmother part of me was laboring to be, to become. I was shedding the skin of childhood and girlishness and self-focus and passing through the purifying pain of labor and delivery. I was walking a pathway to an unknown and unknowable destination. I was giddy and excited, scared and alone. I trembled with each deep, slow breath.
A girl woke up alone at 5:55 am, pregnant, filled with life {potential}. At 7:16 pm, she was born – a mommy, a full-grown woman. They placed this perfectly round-shaped, blond-fuzzy-headed baby girl into her arms, the fruit of her labors, a tiny baby girl was born {potential}, too. Now they were two.
“when — naked, soaked in sweat and blood, and a heart thumping from a marathon — you are squeezing onto your bosom ‘the whole universe wrapped in harmony with your soul’ and realize that this is the tiny body of your own baby. Mytyr, Mana, Mater, Muter, Madre, Mother, Mamma, you are the circle of life; heaven and earth pass through you.” (Eleftheria Mantzouka)
Yes. Today is Tara’s birthday.
Thirty-five years she has walked this earth, which is hard to believe when you look at her, overwhelmingly stunning, her spontaneous smiles so youthful, so nineteen! It’s the celebration of Tara, it’s her birthday! Her arrival changed everything! The entire course of my existence was altered right there on the spot. This is a bit of her story, her glorious entry, as I recall it.
When I’d arrived at the hospital, just 30 minutes before she was born, I was {quite unknowingly} in deep, transitional labor, my entire focus on cooperating, breathing, bringing my baby forth. I asked the ER attendant to wait before wheeling me upstairs.
“Oh honey. You’re never gonna make it, ” the sassy girl said. “You’re going to be in labor for at least 20 hours and if you’re acting like this now, you’re never going to make it.”
I had never wanted to hit some one so badly in my life (transition!), but I was on a mission to birth a baby. I closed my eyes to shut her pointless babble out and breathed, {inhale} in through my nose, slowly, to maintain some control, {exhale} out through my trembling lips.
She rolled me onto the elevator and her negativity became a drone, the sound of the “adults” on Peanuts cartoon specials, like unseen teachers talking to Charlie Brown, “Wah-wah-wah-WAH-wah-wahhh.”
Could she not see that I was bringing forth perfection – and soon?
In their defense, apparently hospitals work with first-time moms who freak a little too soon in the game, but I’d been laboring, working hard for this since 5:55 am.
I was wheeled into the laboring room at about 6:50-something, given one of those magnificent gowns to don and left to my devices. I swayed, I breathed, I called this baby (boy? girl – my secret dream?) forth. I braced myself for 20 hours of this hard work, my reasonable service.
When nurses returned a few minutes later, they were surprised to find that my royal child, this gift of God, was ‘crowning.”
MayDae.com
Tara was born.
“The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new.”
She was born at 7:16 pm, just about a half hour after we’d pulled up to the hospital doors and no one there really had anything to do with it. It was me, my baby and the God of the Universe. The Creator – He was there, having just applied the finishing touches on a life so uniquely formed and perfect, His own (full and complete) delight splashed all over her, perfuming the air with His very Presence, His absolute love. I inhaled the scent of the heavenlies from the top of her tiny head.
Alone with my baby a little later in a dimly lit room, this exquisite girl-child and me, she slowly opened and closed fawn-shaped eyes. The holiness of the moment, of the realization of the redemptive work of God and His total love lie swaddled securely in my arms, as irrefutable proof of Him. He was here – He was with me, for me. Proof!
Tara was a gift to me from God Himself. To me.
I’d awoken a girl, filled with questions and wonder and trepidations. I was going to sleep, having been ushered through the courtyards of the Lord, arms and heart filled, into motherhood. A daughter!
I am ashamed to admit I still sometimes struggle to truly, really, wholly trust God. That is terrible. Especially because He has actually completely shown His trust in me – 5 times!
Do I even need to tell you that a gift from God is good? That He gives beauty for ashes, a garment of praise instead of a spirit if despair? Do I need to remind you? And He sent the healing oil of joy for mourning. Our good friend once called Tara, “Liquid joy.” And it’s true, because oil is poured out and nothing it touches is ever the same.
The enemy tried to take her from me once {from God’s great plan for her life}, but the full-force of heaven stood with a mom, born that day, May 9, 1979, who said, “Give. my daughter. back!” And what could hell do but whimper sheepishly away?
MayDae.com
So, Happy Birthday, Tara, and happy {joyful} day you made me a mom
You have grown up to become a compassionate, loving woman. People are drawn to your smile, your sincerity, and your gentleness powered by strength. You are a star in the darkest of nights and a voice for your generation. You’re a wonderful mommy, the fun-nest kind and such a devoted wife. Your house, all interesting and textural and colorful and serene absolutely looks like you. The lyrics are in you, the melody pours forth sweetly, and you, my most darling and beloved first-born, are such treasure on the earth, let alone to me.
And baby girl, I can tell you this about God’s gift of you to me, for these words could not be truer in any situation,
“Now to Him Who, by the [action of His] power that is at work within us, is able to [carry out His purpose and] do superabundantly, far over and above all that we [dare] ask or think [infinitely beyond our highest prayers, desires, thoughts, hopes, or dreams]—To Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations forever and ever. Amen (so be it).” Ephesians 3.20-21 Amp.
And so, as your momma, you need to understand how desperately I pray this for you. And how deeply I KNOW God is hearing you and your heart’s cry.
And because I witnessed your birth, felt you emerge straight from the hidden place where the Hands knitting you together delivered you into my arms and into your bright-light existence, because I understood His delight and joy in having created you and written your story, I KNOW He hears you now and that this same God, His power at work in you (in your heart, in your body, in your womb, in your reproductive system) is able and will carry out His purpose so far beyond anything you even dare to ask or think or imagine or wish or hope.
Beyond your highest and most powerful prayers or your wildest dreams, infinitely more than you may even have the courage to ask or think, God can do anything, anything.
It’s not too late, my Tara-girl. And I once fought hell over you. So believe me when I tell you, I am believing, petitioning, agonizing, asking, reminding and staying put before the throne for you, for your life, for your deepest, wildest dreams to come true. Because I was born that day, too. And this is what mommies do.
God has given you so much love in three adoring fellas. From you to them, from them to you. But you have more to give, more love, more joy. So sing, sing in the Spirit and with the understanding. I’m joining in your song {Tara’s song}. Let’s see what will happen. :)
“Last-borns tend to be self-centered, attention-seeking people who will wrestle the spotlight from others if need be.” – from an article on birth-order at a parenting site
Not so, our Stormkins. She never fit the profile of the typical baby of the family. She, in fact, nurturing spirit mixed with careful thoughtfulness, is adored by her siblings all, for she has enriched their lives and adds to them as people. She never wrestled spotlights from them nor manipulated to take their place. She is loved deeply for how she has loved them. She is loved fiercely for all the ferociousness with which she has protected and covered and served and loved them.
And on her birthday, they can’t say enough. She is festooned with praises, this particular baby-of-the-family.
Last year on Mother’s Day – I have the black eye. Stormie is flawless.
Can you even imagine what it is like to get to be her parents?
She lives in our town. She lives in a house she is making her own and it is designed with detail, though it may seem quite casual because it is so relaxed and unpretentiously welcoming. But it’s reflective of her utter sophisticated coolness. Everything around her, including the giant German Shepherd, Saber, is structurally Stormie. Light rebounding from carefully curated usable collections of her heart and soul: her books, her kitchen tools and dishes, her music and her scents – all clues to a most unique and copacetic home owner. No one else could possibly live in that particular early 1900s house. It pulses with the beat of Stormie’s life-giving existence, her panache, her style. Don’t tell her I told you she has one. She would blush. :)
Stormie – as tagged on FB
“Tax-Day” forever redeemed. 1986 a best-year ever.
April 15 was never the same after 1986. The IRS never once more could claim this day, for this was the day our family became **7** and it was perfect: Dave and Jeanie (aka dad and mom), Tara**Stephanie**Tredessa**Rocky and finally, fantastically, phenomenally ~ Stormie. Our Stormie Dae (it really was icy and blizzardy on the day she came). And for that matter, of all the things that happened in 1986, jobs and a new house and church stuff and life in general, the *best* thing of the year was having Stormie, a sweet-natured baby who has grown up to become a trustworthy, responsible, longsuffering, compassionate, missions-minded, loving, doting, worshiping, praying, wry, funny, intuitive, deeply-connected, intensely-loyal, attentive, utterly-amiable and oh-so-likeable girl. I guess she is a woman, but she is my baby girl, too.
“Hold tight to the sounds of the music of living, happy songs from the laughter of children at play…We have this moment today.” I sang this, holding you, when we dedicated you to the Lord (a Gaither song)
Good grief – how did you turn out so well? Must be all those older sisters and that older brother helping hone and shape you. :)
So, my sweet baby girl – of course I bless the day you were born. And I bless you.
Let us pray on the occasion of the celebration of your birth and the life you are living:
I pray you live, Stormie, take the deepest breath, inhale the Holy Spirit, the ruach of the LORD, and be energized and live. **Live!** Live deeply and hidden, unseen and true. Live loudly and bright and in the light, in the open, fearlessly. Live to delight the One. And live to make happy the places in you only you and your Maker know anything about. Be quickened and energized with that same power that raised Christ Jesus from the dead – let your mortal body reflect the glory of God (remember our homeschool rap from 1 Cor. 6.20, “therefore – glorify God in your body,” haha).
I see His countenance on you, my sweet. I see a twinkle, a sparkle dancing in those eyes. The stars are casting light on your nights, the sunglow doesn’t match your days. Damn self-sufficiency, baby-love. You could do that in your sleep. You possess fortitude and ability and are able, but you, my daughter, were meant for the wild passions of the things of God. You have tasted eternity on your tongue. Your hair has been blown by the winds of the Holy Spirit. Your heart expands in the Presence, your longing for the Divine opens doors to see Him face to face, to be so close you hear His still, small voice with utter clarity.
You are like David. He did not strive to come out from among the rest. He was doing what he did. He was honoring God and singing songs that blessed the Lord – when no one heard, and no one saw. And God invited him to come out, to come up, to be seen, to do what he was born to do and was already doing in secret places. That is how it is, my sweet. God sees you. He knows you. It’s ok when He calls you forth. You’re no Johnny-come-lately. You are true and real, you are an honest version of who God says you are.
And all the things the enemy has ever done to try to take that away – well, to *h*with the devil. God rebuke the enemy on your behalf, I pray! May God be your Protection, your Guide, your Guard, your Friend, your Father, your All. And when He invites you to the seat of honor, all of us will know why and we’ll be cheering loudly and raucously, Stormie’s fans and family, with hearts fairly bursting in love.
I bless the day you were born and all the days you have left, in Jesus’s Name, in His great love and grace, and with gratefulness for the forgiveness and healing we have received for all the wounds and wrongs and sins {redemption has come – He has made all things new!}, my darling daughter – in HIS name, I bless you! Amen.
