Today the page turns to 48.

The year that was now behind.

The open-heart surgery;

the subpoena;

the testimony that had nothing and everything to do with our family;

the biopsy that went my way, the reminder that bodies keep the score of generations past,

and then the teetering on the edge of balance only to discover a boot would now be my friend, pain instead of solace found in the run.

An angry proclamation screamed to the man upstairs, “Hasn’t there been enough to endure?”.

Instantly reminded that there is no giant scorecard. No victory check mark to equal out those in the defeat column.

And well if there was I would surely find all of the goodness, all of the love I have received far outweighs the hard.

Oh Lord how lovely this life!

This farm,

this family,

these friends

and this body

all of which allow me to follow the call.

While year 48 would love more happy than hard, I do believe I have been given the most beautiful world in which to exist.

Raising a glass to 365 more chances to live in joy.

And I was young.

I didn’t know how to be a mom.

So, you slept and I snuck into your room.

I gathered your sleeping body into my arms and brought you to our porch.

In those chairs we rocked and watched the fireflies light up the night.

The years never die.

Now, that love is carried to another generation.

I awake their little bodies, whispering in the ears the promise of bugs lighting up the night.

The promise of magic.

How is it that beautiful moments can so easily repeat?

I am grateful that this madness has spun round and round.

I don’t know what the future holds. I have given up any semblance of control.

But here in this night, I find courage in the long, long road.

I know we will live forever under this sky,

January 28, 2025

Dear Brock,

Where to begin?

So much has changed yet everything is the same.

Ellery is still spunky, Audrey introspective, Sidney determined.

There is a new puppy. Yes, I said yes. Who would have thought that?

There are a lot of moments each month where I want to text you.

Our coparenting was one of mutual admiration for the lives we created.

And now you are our watchman.

Rest easy my friend, they are steady.

That being said I need your help.

Remind them of their worth. Let them feel your love.

They question, as all teenage girls do, their place in this world.

Help them to remain resilient yet kind.

The best people stand ready to acknowledge the pain present in this life. They are here for that.

They ache for you and want others to understand that longing.

They know you had to leave but feel lost without you as their constant

What they need today is the reminder of your being.

Bring them sunsets.

Shine down rainbows.

Remind them of the magic of being fully present in a moment.

I am sorry I couldn’t understand.

I wish I had been more available.

Our parenting partnership has not ended,

it’s morphed into a new phase.

Send me signs when you sense the rain clouds forming. Guide me in the pursuit of parenting.

I know you will always be around and in that I am grateful.

H

Dear Matthew,

Your servants heart saved me this year.

The most brutal 365 days could be endured because you showed up each morning willing to serve.

It allowed me to be weak.

It gave me permission to fold.

On your birthday I want you to know how grateful I am that you chose me.

I want you to understand how deeply you are loved and respected.

How much I admire your strength and how I look to your faithfulness as my North Star.

I wish for you a new year filled with all of the happiness you have given to others.

I hope for many moments in which you feel a deep sense of peace.

I cannot promise you easy but what I can guarantee is a life lived in love, together.

Happiest of Birthdays my Matthew.

I love you more everyday.

Love,

H

P.S.- when I heard this one I immediately thought of you.

Dear Audrey,

Your dad and I kissed Sidney goodbye while she slept, gave Nani and Papi a hug and left our house in the very early morning hours of January 12, 2007. I don’t remember much about the 30-minute drive to the hospital or all of the pre surgical prep. What I can recall, like it was yesterday, is the feeling of the doctor lifting you from my body and the loudest cry we had ever heard echoing through the room. “You have a 10 pounder” Dr. Stockwell said (he was off by a few ounces) and in those next seconds the most angelic face appeared in front of me. It was as if God granted us the most beautiful baby ever made.

From the second you made your presence known you have graced us with such love. Anyone who spends even a minute with you is impacted by your big heart and your even bigger smile.

And now you are 18 and I am supposed to let you fly but I can’t help but want to hold on tighter.

It’s not that you aren’t ready. My head knows you are.

You are compassionate.

You are generous.

You are thoughtful.

You are smart.

You love your friends and your sisters in such a way that it makes them feel known and respected.

I really just don’t want to let you go because I don’t want to live each day without your radiating light.

You have some big decisions to make in the coming weeks.

Know that we trust your judgement and you need to make the choice that is written on your heart.

Your bedroom will be waiting for you when you come home.

Matt and I are so proud of you.

Daddy is upstairs cheering you on.

You are never alone.

All my love, forever and a day,

Momma

P.S. This one has been waiting for you.

For an evening, I forgot.

Then touched by the pain was reminded.

I tumbled into the depth and found the grief that lurks.

The memory of your face on the day our eldest was born.

The sound of your laughter when we heard number three was a girl.

The smell of your car, your shirts, that apartment, it all still resides here.

Wherever I go, and I will go to my grave, those reminders will join me.

The world says I am strong.

Yet my heart aches to rest in my weakness.

Please Lord give me the space to feel, the opportunity to process, the chance to be real.

There is no roadmap in mourning.

Let me be at peace with a heart that aches for all that was lost.

Dear Matthew,

Just in case you ever doubt my admiration of you, please reread these words.

Rest in the knowledge that never before or ever again, will I have encountered a man with your moral compass. So, firm in your faith, you are devoted to your family. You show us each day what it means to travel through life with one foot planted earthly and another firmly in the clouds with heaven in mind.

On this day seven years ago, you gave me the greatest of gifts-

the privilege to walk this world with you.

We have endured more this year than we could have ever fathomed when we spoke those words on a beautiful fall evening.

I don’t know how I would stand today without your steady hands guiding me.

The pain has been so deep and so wide and so very all consuming.

It has tested my faith but never for one moment has my love for you wavered.

Thank you for being present in the hardest of times,

for taking on the responsibility of shouldering the sadness my beautiful girls endure.

And then to think when things were already impossible, you walked into a perfect little toddler’s open-heart surgery, and you carried yet another load.

Our little warrior girl calls you her best friend.

When she speaks those word what she is really saying is you are her everything.

You are all our everything’s Matthew.

I used to want the climb to define me.

I wanted those around me to see the struggle and the rise.

Now I only want the world to see that it is in you I have found my peace.

Whatever this world hands me, I know I can move through it with your love.

Thank you for loving us all,

for teaching me that perfection is only found in the father’s love

and that being a witness to sorrow is to live in his light.

I will be grateful for you until the end of my days.

I love you Matthew.

Seven years down and a lifetime to go.

Love,

H

PS –

Dear Ellery Jane,

You were correct when you said I would cry when I started to write this letter. My eyes welling up just thinking of you in that little pink tutu on your first birthday.

From the very beginning you were spunk and sass and rainbows and butterflies, and you lit up our world with your witty banter.

Sidney and Audrey thought you were their personal babydoll and loved showing you off to anyone they encountered.

I still have to resist the urge on a regular basis to tell everyone I meet about the wonder of you. I want to scream it from the rooftops.

Have you met this young lady?

She is fierce.

She is strong.

She has the most beautiful and passionate sense of wrong and right and will always advocate for the underdog.

She will run the world one day.

I cannot believe I got picked to be your Momma.

I wish I could turn back the clock, even for just one night, and bring your daddy back.

I wish I could take away the pain.

I can’t but I can walk with you through the hurt.

I promise to never leave your side (well except for that time you go away to college, but we can negotiate what that looks like).

I am so proud of you Ellery Jane.

14 looks amazing on you.

I love you to the moon and back.

Love,

Momma

P.S. – It was a tough choice this year after all the good tunes you exposed me to, but I had to go with a classic. No one out there like Pink to give you a well-earned anthem- you are here.