Dear Mom,

Reading that last letter reminded me of other times like that story when I packed dust in my eyes. I remember being at the end of our front walkway by our front porch, out in the gravel road, just throwing dust in the air.

During that time, I loved motion like that. I loved to watch things fall or things be thrown up in the air. I loved motion a lot—all sorts of physical things.

Read more

Dearest Daughters,

I’d like to open this letter, and today’s discussion of toddlers, with a memory from just a couple of years ago.

I realized at the time that my youngest, your younger brother Ari, was four; my first grandchild was three; my second grandchild was two; my third grandchild was one, and my fourth was a brand-new baby!

It was fascinating to watch the incredible development that had transpired in each of these children in just one year’s time.

Ari was just like Kaia one year ago. Kaia was just like Lucas one year ago. Lucas was just like Aaron one year ago.

And yet, look how much had changed in a single year of their lives—not only in their size, but in their capacity and their connection!

It got me thinking.

From the moment a child is conceived, beginning as a single cell, until that child is two years old, an almost unimaginable amount of physical growth and development has taken place, with trillions of cell forming in that time.

I looked at that newborn lying in his mommy’s arms, clunking himself in the face with a hand he couldn’t yet control and screaming for every meal. Then I looked at my one-year-old grandbaby with big brown eyes, intelligence already showing behind them, waving hi and clapping hands.

Then we jumped up to two-year-old Lucas with his blond curls, asking for things and stringing sentences together. Three-year-old Kaia was busy rocking her baby doll and imitating Mommy and could ask questions and even give answers. And finally there was four-year-old Ari, who knew his alphabet and could count.

It was astonishing to me.

I was so moved by this that the thought occurred to me:

What if we as adults changed that much in one year?

And I felt the Lord admonish me, Oh, you can.

(And I don’t mean physically—hopefully.)

But it got me thinking. A baby is not afraid to fail. If he falls down thirty-three times in a day, he just falls and hits his bottom. He may not even fuss. He may whimper or cry or knock himself in the head on the coffee table as he goes down, but he gets right back up and tries to walk again.

When he says words that no one understands, he doesn’t get embarrassed and say, Well, that’s too bad. I’m never trying that again.

But how many times in our lives do we do exactly that?

The Lord corrects us. Our first try at something doesn’t go over very well, and we say, It’s just not my thing. I’m hurt because I wasn’t accepted.

These things don’t deter a baby—and thank God they don’t, or babies would never walk, feed themselves, pick up their heads for that matter, or talk!

They just keep trying because something inside of them says, I must do it. I was made to do this.

And if I can give you as mothers any word of encouragement, it is this: when you fail—especially in motherhood, because you will—just get back up and say, I was made to do this, so I’ll keep doing it until I get it!

If I’ve had any success in motherhood it was in this: by failing again and again yet saying to myself, Well, that didn’t work. What will?

And then trying again.

Now let’s get back to those babies, because it might help you to understand just how much is going on inside them.

There’s a reason a toddler can change so dramatically in such a short time. He’s learning almost constantly. Everything is new and an adventure. Everything is forming connections. Before we talk about how to train and guide a toddler, I want you to stop for a moment and consider just how much that little person is learning.

In just the first two years of life, a baby typically learns to hold up his head, roll over, sit up, crawl on all fours, pull himself to standing, and walk. Before long, he begins to run and climb. He learns to bend down and stand back up, throw and kick a ball, pick up tiny objects with his fingers, and stack blocks.

He learns to turn pages and scribble. He feeds himself with his hands and begins using utensils. He learns to drink from a cup and chew all kinds of foods, even though he started out without a single tooth.

He learns to recognize familiar people and objects and to know his own name. He begins to understand more and more words and follow simple directions. He starts saying words and eventually strings two or more of them together. He names familiar people and things and points to different parts of his body.

By two, he can communicate many of the things he wants. He imitates sounds, words, actions, and expressions. He remembers where things belong and can find hidden objects. He can match or sort simple objects and begin solving simple problems.

He’s even beginning to understand cause and effect—which is one reason little babies are so delighted to throw their toys on the floor and make you pick them up again!

He recognizes routines and anticipates what comes next. He expresses happiness, anger, fear, frustration, and affection. He seeks comfort from trusted adults and shows strong attachments to his parents, family, and caregivers. He begins noticing other people’s feelings and showing interest in other children.

He plays beside other children. He imitates household work and adult activities and engages in simple pretend play.

And then, of course, he begins asserting independence.

Me do it!

No!

He begins learning boundaries and discovering what no means. He helps with dressing and undressing himself, participates in washing his hands and other routines, and can begin helping with simple chores.

All the while, he is learning hundreds of patterns about how his family, his home, his language, and his world work, and he will try to hold you to them!

That is just a little snapshot of what is going on in your baby, besides his physical growth, his brain development, and the extraordinary number of new connections being formed inside his little head and body.

When you realize how much a toddler is already learning without anyone sitting him down for a lesson, you begin to understand why these years matter so much. He’s learning patterns whether you intentionally teach them or not.

There are many perspectives on parenthood, and I don’t claim to know the best ones for you or anyone else. But I do want to communicate to you the things that have worked for me.

Again, there’s so much going on in a baby’s life, and in a toddler’s life. They are moldable. They are learning and making new connections, habits, and associations every day. The way I see it, this is the time to channel all that energy and creativity into good habits and patterns.

As I’ve said many times before, connection is the primary key.

You must be connected to what’s going on with your child. Make decisions about how you will connect with your child every day.

I read to my babies every day, and especially when they became toddlers. They’re fascinated with books and textures, and we sit together and turn pages and talk.

One of my favorite things about this is watching them look at my face and imitate my expressions. They understand that the story is joyful or scary simply by looking at me. They look down at the picture, then up at my face, and mimic the facial expression I’m making. Little by little, they’re making connections between the picture, my voice, my face, and what it all means.

You can also teach a toddler simple sequences: Clap, and then jump.

Those simple games teach them to listen, remember, and do things in an order—skills that will serve them well as they grow and learn and move toward skill like reading.

Children also benefit enormously from having parameters.

We do this. We don’t do that. When we’re done with this, we do this.

Develop simple routines for things like toothbrushing and toileting.

Go to the bathroom. Wash your hands. Dry your hands. Wipe the counter.

Before bed: go potty, wash hands and face, brush your teeth, come for a story, then prayers and a song.

All these little things teach them that life has structure.

If you have no structure in your life, you may actually find that you have less flexibility. Structure gives you something to come back to, and that creates room for spontaneity in between. If you’re endlessly behind, if there’s never really a mealtime and never really a bedtime, you may find yourself running out of time to do anything.

But if you make certain parts of your day fairly structured, there can be plenty of give in between.

Recently, a mother told me that she had returned from a trip. She has a two-year-old and a baby, and after traveling, she came home to have company stay in her house. Her two-year-old began acting up tremendously—throwing fits, shrieking, and disobeying in ways he hadn’t before the trip.

I told her that I felt the upheaval of the travel, followed immediately by an unfamiliar person staying in the house, was probably affecting him. That wouldn’t be surprising behavior for a two-year-old whose familiar little world had suddenly become much less predictable.

In a season like that, I think it’s especially important to protect those times of connection with your child.

Put him to bed in the familiar way, with the traditional routine. Spend a little time in the morning talking to him, reading a story, and praying with him.

And don’t underestimate how much a two-year-old can understand!

Tell him clearly and simply what you expect. Give him short windows of time in which to succeed, and make the consequence something he can understand.

“We’re going to use a quiet voice until lunchtime. If you can do that, Mommy and you will read a special story together before nap. If you choose to scream, we won’t have the special story today.”

Keep it concrete. Keep it short. Keep it understandable. And demonstrate what you do and don’t want him to do!

You may be surprised by how much your two-year-old comprehends.

Give clear parameters, and give him opportunities to succeed within them.

There are so many other things I’d like to say about toddlerhood, and I hope you’ll feel free to ask questions even in response to this letter. But I’ll save some of them for next week, as this letter is already getting a bit long!

It’s a tough season, but it’s wonderful.

You have the most amazing potential right there in your home, wrapped up in that little package.

So love him. Connect with him, and channel all that tremendous energy toward what is good.

I love you,

Mom

While spending some time with your older sister Helen recently, she reminded me of a story I had not thought of in a long time. It is just one more thing demonstrating how far you, and really, all of us, have come.

It was springtime in Texas, and bluebonnets fragranced the evening as Dad and I walked to choir. Hadassah, our friend, neighbor, and nanny, was babysitting you kids while we practiced for our church’s Easter concert.

I love spring in Texas. It comes out in full strength with beauty, color, and fragrance—things that aren’t always so common in Texas. We don’t get the fall colors. We certainly don’t get much snow. But a lake of blue decorating the fields of our farm felt like a promise.

I was seven months pregnant with your younger brother Nicolas, and singing wasn’t quite as effortless as it is at times. About halfway through choir practice, I began to feel miserable with gallbladder pain, a common pregnancy complaint. The pressure was building to the point that I felt I needed to go home.

Dad was down near the microphones, and I was in the choir loft, so I lumbered my way down to him.

“I think I’m going to get a ride home,” I told him.

But just as I was preparing to leave, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw a message from Hadassah asking me to please come home immediately because Christopher had filled his eyes with dirt.

What in the world?

I asked Aunt Hannah if she could give me a ride, since we’d walked to choir, and we hurried down to the house. She dropped me off at the gate and headed back.

By now it was dark, and the crickets were chirping. I rushed into the house, for the moment forgetting the gallbladder pain, to find you frantically screaming and trying to pull away from your big sister Helen and Hadassah.

I grabbed you, pinned you to myself, and tipped back your chin.

I had never seen anything like it. Your eyes were filled with dirt, as though you had deliberately packed it into them.

I swooped you up onto the counter, and all three of us had to hold you down while I poured water into your eyes, trying to wash the dirt out. I tried to use a gentle tone, but your screams grew louder by the second. The good news was that the dirt was coming out.

The bad news was that one of your kicking legs suddenly thrashed into the dish rack, knocking it sideways on the counter. Several dishes rolled out, including a glass, which hit the tile floor and shattered.

Eighteen-month-old Carri Beth toddled around my skirts, pointing at you and questioning, “He crying? He crying?”

But it was all we could do to manage you. I was soaked with water. Mud was everywhere. Dishes and broken glass covered the floor.

“Keep her out of the glass,” I said to eleven-year-old Blair.

Just then, Carri Beth swooped down and tried to helpfully grab a piece. Too late.

Her screams split the air, piercing through the rest of the ruckus. She had sliced her index finger wide open, nearly taking off the tip.

“Oh God,” I said. “Now what do we do?”

But the dirt was almost out of your eyes.

“Helen, grab a rag and wrap it around her hand and squeeze,” I said, pinching my phone between my ear and shoulder as I called our doctor at the clinic.

“Please bring her right in,” he said.

I told him about your eyes too, and he assured me that if we had washed all the dirt out, you were going to be okay.

By then, you were looking good. Even you seemed to realize that the crisis was ending, and your cries had subsided. Hadassah volunteered to pull your pajamas on and read you a story so I could get Carri Beth to the clinic.

I took Helen with me, and when we arrived, Dr. Mark took Carri Beth. For whatever reason, she wasn’t terribly receptive to the numbing medicine, and so she screamed for every stitch. But Mark was gentle and playful and somehow managed to put everyone at ease.

At last, her hand was stitched and bandaged. I lifted her onto my shoulders, her little legs straddling my very pregnant belly, and patted her head. Her sobs dissipated into whimpers, and finally she fell asleep.

As we walked out the door of the clinic, Mark put a hand on my shoulder and then on Helen’s.

“How’s Mommy and big sister? Are y’all going to be okay?”

“We’ll be just fine,” I said.

But when I looked over at Helen, she looked as though she was about to both cry and vomit.

By the time we came home, you were asleep, and I tucked Carri Beth into bed. The gallbladder attack must have been frightened away by all the commotion, because it had eased to a dull ache as I climbed into a warm bath.

Just another day with a house full of children and being a mom.

We’ve all come a long way, Christopher, not just you. You’ve learned to live in a world that’s rather overwhelming at times—and not just to you!

With all my love,
Mom

Dearest Daughters,

Today I’m going to send you something I wrote for Uncle Asi’s child training book, Child Training: A Candid Guide to Christian Parenting. This is originally taken from a seminar I’ve given on multiple occasions, but I really feel that it can give a perspective on how we should approach the toddler years. The next few letters will be speaking to that season!

According to Jesus, timing is of utmost importance. He repeatedly spoke of the times and seasons, telling His disciples that while any time was right for them, His time had not yet come (John 7:6). He said that the times and seasons belonged to the Father’s authority (Acts 1:7). Thus He tied timing to God’s lordship. We recognize this truth in many facets of life, including some elements of child development. For instance, we expect our babies to develop physically and mentally according to a certain general schedule, and if they fail to do so, we become alarmed and seek help. However, when it comes to character development, there’s often a general lack of expectation (other than perhaps bad character development).

Specifically, if your child does not roll over between three and six months, crawl between six and ten months, walk between ten and fourteen months, talk by the time they are two, and start reading around six, you will be very alarmed. Most likely, you will call your doctor or a therapist for help. However, when a child throws a temper tantrum at two, we excuse it as “The Terrible Twos.” When a three-year-old destroys family dinner and disrupts an entire restaurant with blood-curdling screams over not being allowed to choose her entrée or seat at the table, we claim, “She’s just over-stimulated.” When a four-year-old can’t go to bed without weeping, complaining and backtalk, we sigh and say, “Children will be children.” When a seven-year-old keeps a pigsty for a bedroom, we shrug and say, “He must be the creative type.” And the list goes on and on as we excuse the retardation of character growth and maturity in children.

I propose that, just as in physical and mental development, there are optimum windows of time for forming specific character traits in children. And meeting these timelines will greatly facilitate growth and development in every other area. Disciplined children with well-nurtured character are teachable, curious and obedient children. The child’s life becomes easier and his path clearer when the obstacles of bad character have been removed. He can then live in a place of constant learning and interaction with those who can guide him.

Our first two children were twelve and a half months apart, so we needed to teach our ten-month-old to ‘come’ when called before the new baby’s arrival, knowing that Mommy would soon be occupied with the newborn and unable to chase the toddler constantly. Amazingly (to some), she could learn this quite easily with a bit of practice and consistency on our part. By the time the baby was born two months later, we could call her when she was doing anything, and she would race to us on all fours from whatever room in the house she was in. She wasn’t even yet walking, yet she knew exactly what “Come” meant.

This prompted me to consider how low our expectations often are toward other capabilities of our children. Having grown up on a farm, I knew you could teach pretty much any animal a lot. Everyone knows you can teach a dog all kinds of tricks, but you can also teach a horse to be guided by the gentlest touch to its neck or the slightest pressure with your knee. You can teach cows to come into the barn morning and night and to stand patiently still while being milked. You can teach sheep to come from a quarter of a mile away at just the sound of your voice. Even a chicken can be taught to come into the coop at night and to lay their eggs in a nest box instead of in the dirty chicken yard! Most animals can learn quite a few things (although I’m not sure about goats—they’re plenty smart but usually too rebellious to obey!).

However, parents often don’t consider their child teachable until he has mastered English. This is not so! I find infants to be, in many ways, more teachable before they speak than after they have learned to argue and manipulate those lovely English words. For example, it’s pretty easy and effective to teach non-verbal children to say “please” with sign language when they’re only 8 to 10 months old.

As repeatedly emphasized, we first teach a child transparent love and affection. We show them love when we become fools in our efforts to connect and communicate with even the youngest babies. Even this is already a lesson on honest transparency. They learn to expect total love and to feel complete harmony with their parents every minute. A baby is hardwired to feel that love and connection, and because of this, they hate any discord in the atmosphere or relationship and will do almost anything to make it right.

So when a seven-month-old in your lap pulls himself to his feet and snatches your glasses off your face or swipes a candle off the coffee table, it’s the perfect time to teach them “No!” This can easily be done by introducing a new, firm voice that feels like discord to them. The baby will instantly check your face and eyes and stop what they are doing just to understand your mood change and attitude toward them.

A nine- or ten-month-old loves to jabber, and we mostly love to hear it! But when we’re gathered around the table, and Daddy is trying to explain something to the teenagers, it’s time for him to learn to be quiet. A firm “Quiet” will get the child’s attention enough to make him stop and make eye contact with everyone. Especially if everyone at the table joins in the effort and looks at him soberly, he can easily learn to be quiet at the table while adults are talking. He is startled by and pondering the changed atmosphere. He may try a few attempts at changing that mood with “cuteness,” but if you stay firm in your “quiet,” he will begin to understand. This is the first step in teaching a child to have an ear for God and those He sends, just as the young boy Samuel did.

A baby should be able to come when called, and you should have confidence that he will respond to “No” well before he reaches a year. These goals can be attained with firm consistency, accompanied by loving praise for obedience.

A goal I’ve always set for myself is to be able to go to anyone’s home by the time my child is 16 months old and have confidence in his obedience and his relationship with me. I expect that when we go to Grandma’s house, he will enthusiastically rush to the coffee table, excited by all the shiny objects, but he will look back and make eye contact with me before touching anything. At that point, I can shake my head and finger side to side, and he will not touch anything.

In our community, toddlers begin to attend Sunday church meetings at two years old. Because of this, I have the “sit still and quiet” goal. We start practicing between 14 and 18 months. The toddler will sit with his daddy during family reading and prayer time. We try to make it feel like a privilege and a “big boy” opportunity to sit with Daddy. Of course, there will be moments when he doesn’t want to sit there, and there will be tears. But a firm “snuggled” insistence and ignoring of the tears will soon produce resignation and joyful anticipation of the ritual of sitting with Daddy. Our toddler is soon excited to sit with Daddy and “read the ‘Biboe.’” When the child becomes good at sitting still and quiet with Daddy, he graduates to his own chair to practice by himself.

If we look at these moments in the child’s development as ripe opportunities for shaping their character and relationships, we will seize every moment and reap long-term fruit. The ensuing happiness and peace in the child and the family will be a great reward.

If my toddler is still not obeying promptly or coming when I call by the time he’s two, I hope my attitude will always be, “My child has a dangerous developmental delay! We need help and intensive ‘therapy’!”

The times and seasons are not ours but belong to the Father who gave the child to us on loan to train and to love, and He has given them a fertile heart and mind for learning to be teachable sheep, not stubborn goats.

I pray this will help you in your journey with your toddlers! Let the adventure begin!

Love,

Mom

Dear Mom,

Thinking of that letter you wrote to me reminded me of times when I could easily sense that something bad was happening, or that something bad was about to happen.

I would often sense it by the expressions on your face. When I saw worry on your face, I would get extremely worried about it myself. I would amplify those fears until they sometimes turned into one of those meltdowns, with me screaming in terror.

Usually, it was because something bad really was happening, but it sometimes wasn’t. I could see it on your face—like, for example, a baby very sick or dying, or even that time when Andrew went over the falls.

Read more

We will not hide them from their children,
Telling to the generation to come the praises of the LORD,
And His strength and His wonderful works that He has done…
That they may set their hope in God,
And not forget the works of God,
But keep His commandments.
— Psalm 78:4,

Dearest Daughters,

I feel as if I can’t conclude this series on babies without discussing with you something of how I feel about birth itself.

As you’re well aware, all eight of you were born at home. Six of you passed first into the hands of your grandmother and then into mine. And now I’ve been a midwife for nearly three decades and have delivered more than 600 babies.

Why did I choose to have my babies at home? And why has home birth become such an integral part of our community life?

My passion for sustaining home birth and midwifery is not simply because I feel that preserving the profession is important. It’s because I believe the perspective that makes us want to have our births at home is a perspective that will preserve family, memory, belonging, and community.

Birth is one of the places where we either strengthen or weaken those things. And my passion in midwifery is to preserve the conditions that allow human beings and human relationships to flourish.

We live in a generation that I believe is homesick. Why is it that so many people are longing to go home? They’re beginning to homestead, to garden, to buy locally, to raise chickens, to build front porches, to homeschool.

So much of our culture is fragmented. People work in one place, worship in another, school their children with still another set of relationships, and get their exercise in yet a different circle of relationships. Life is so disjointed.

But a longing is tugging at people’s hearts, pulling them back home—to family and to the land.

They want neighbors whose names they know. They want land where they’ve trod over every inch, soil they’ve sifted between their fingers.

They want God and each other. The same longing that makes people ask where their food comes from eventually makes us ask where our children enter the world, and what kind of relationships should surround that entrance.

Birth is the gateway to life. And when we change the way we view birth, we change the way we view everything.

The idea of home birth has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. It really began with my parents—your grandparents—when they were living on the Lower East Side of Manhattan.

They were about to take my older brother to public school when they looked at the chain-link fence, the concertina wire, the drug addicts lying in the street, and asked themselves, Is this where we want our son’s life to be shaped?

That question released a whole series of other questions.

Where does our food come from?

How should we care for our elderly?

What about the way our babies are born?

The end result was that my mom became a midwife, and the community into which you were born came to birth. They began growing their own food. They began to take responsibility for their lives.

In essence, they decided, We don’t want to outsource all the most vital elements of life to institutions. We want that experience and that responsibility.

So when I was growing up, birth wasn’t kept behind closed doors for us. We saw chicks hatching and calves being born. We helped lambs get unstuck in the birth process. Birth was simply there, woven into ordinary life.

When my mom first began midwifery, though, the craft had almost become extinct.

What had happened?

Midwives had attended births for thousands of years. Hospitals were for sickness, and midwives were for birth. But along with the industrialization and urbanization of our country, midwives became all but extinct. There were various reasons for this, which I won’t get into here, but birth was increasingly viewed not as a family event but as a medical problem that needed to be solved.

Birth moved from relationship to protocol, and from home to institution.

Now, please understand— I’m not anti-hospital. I believe hospitals have been a great blessing and offer care that is invaluable when birth becomes pathological or when a mother or baby needs medical intervention. But the hospital serves a different purpose from the home.

The older view of birth was that it was a family event. Midwives carried a sacred art. They were there not to control birth, but to serve it, to bring wisdom, experience, and watchfulness, and to bear witness to one of the most sacred events in a family’s life.

The newer view tends to see birth primarily as a medical event; a procedure that must be managed with efficiency and good protocols.

So birth changed categories.

It changed from a family event that occasionally required medical help to a medical event that happened to involve a family.

But now, in this renewed longing for home, people are asking questions again.

Of course, a sacred birth can happen anywhere, and sometimes the most loving, responsible choice is to seek medical care.

But I believe that the way our community has primarily given birth—at home when mothers and babies are low-risk and birth is proceeding normally—is a beautiful and sacred experience that I long to protect. I want to be a guardian of it, both as your mother and as a midwife.

Because I believe that shared experiences cultivate relationship, memory, and belonging.

Whenever we participate together in a monumental event in life—birth, death, injury, heartache—we’re bound together in ways we cannot easily or quickly escape. We go through something that reduces us together and makes us transparent together. We see one another for who we really are.

And a midwife is there to protect that experience.

She’s there to help a mother believe that she possesses strength she may have never unearthed before.

Of course, we must bring experience, wisdom, and competence into a birth. Those things matter enormously. But when people remember their births, they are rarely remembering the blood-pressure readings or hematocrit reports.

Rather, they remember who sat with them and helped them believe they could do it.

They remember the feeling in the room, the whispered prayers and the tears on their husband’s face.

They remember the first time their toddler stroked the velvet cheek of the newborn and the awe in those little eyes.

Those memories bind relationships together, creating belonging, and that’s what we are trying to preserve and protect.

When I—or any of you—walk into a room in our community, someone can say a simple phrase like, “Snacks at the Lancasters after Christmas,” and everyone cracks up laughing.

Why? Because we belong to that memory. We know what we’re talking about. We were there and shared something together.

And the more things we share together, especially the profound events associated with life, such as births, deaths, weddings, and funerals, the more those memories weave back and forth, up and down, through relationships and even through generations.

They tie us together and make a strong community.

Perhaps that’s one reason Scripture tells God’s people again and again:

Remember.

Remember the Passover. Remember the Exodus. Remember the stones. Tell your children what God has done.

Because memory creates belonging. We are “re-membered” to each other and the memory.

When people look at my life, they may think my real work is catching babies. I do prenatal care. I carry equipment and medicines. I have medical knowledge and nearly thirty years of experience, particularly as it relates to birth. That’s all true.

But it’s certainly not the whole story.

What I’m really trying to do is preserve a place where families can experience one of the most sacred moments of their lives together. I want to bring the wisdom and competence necessary to guard that experience, while leaving the family free to truly own it and to build their own shared memories. I want to preserve their most sacred moments, to help them discover that they still have the power to take responsibility for the greatest things in life.

And by responsibility, I don’t mean rugged individualism. Taking responsibility doesn’t mean we necessarily do every single thing ourselves. In fact, it often means the opposite. It simply means we refuse to merely become passive participants in our own lives. Instead, we intentionally choose the places and relationships on which we’ll depend. And they will be the people God has placed around us.

A mother needs the love and faith of her husband, and a husband needs the experience and wisdom of the midwife. The midwife may require the skill of a physician. And the new family needs grandmothers and sisters and neighbors who will bring meals, tend children, wash laundry, and sit beside the bed. But the very nature of birth allows us to reveal our needs, and that need binds us in interdependence with others we love. That is community.

Modern culture has become very good at efficiency. But to really live life, something is required that efficiency cannot measure: presence.

How can you measure, in economic terms—or even in terms of efficiency—the one who sat up with you all night and held your hand?

How do you put a value on the husband who panted with his wife for thirteen hours straight, with sweat dripping from his own brow?

What is the financial value of the person who looked into your eyes when you thought you couldn’t go on and said, Yes, you can?

As a midwife, I’m not there to remove the labor of giving birth. But I am there to be with the mothers and to help them believe that they can do it.

Skills may save lives, but it’s this type of presence that sustains life and relationships.

And that presence continues long after the baby is born. One of the things I love most about living in our community is that a birth seems, in some way, to belong to all of us.

The meals begin arriving. Someone takes the older children. A friend slips quietly into the house and carries away the laundry or the ironing. People make room for the mother to rest and for the family to rejoice in this new chapter.

I can hardly remember attending a birth when a meal did not show up—not only for the mother and her family, but almost always for us as well!

Everyone seems to understand that a new soul has come into the world, and that means something for all of us.

Together we say to the family:

You are not alone. We are with you in this.

We must create a culture of care, and that is the answer to the homesickness I spoke of earlier.

Our goal is not to simply go back to houses, gardens, chickens or even home births. We’re longing for a life in which the vital elements of life still belong to us, and in which we still belong to one another. A place where every shared experience becomes a shared memory that re-members, that connects us back to one another and to our stories.

This is why home birth and midwifery matter so much to me.

I’ve watched men become fathers, women become mothers, parents become grandparents, and little children become older brothers and sisters. I’ve watched communities gather around them and rejoice.

And because of it all, I want to guard the places where those relationships can flourish.

Your grandparents rediscovered many things that have given us life, memory, and community. They didn’t teach us that we should need no one. Quite the opposite.

They paved the way for us by taking responsibility for the things that matter most—and then they taught us to share that responsibility with the people to whom we belong.

Doing this has changed us and bound us together.

And now, as your mother and as a midwife, I long to protect those things. And I pray that you will protect them, too, carrying them on and passing them to your own children and grandchildren.

Because I’m convinced that what we’re preserving is more than simply a way of giving birth.

We’re preserving a way of belonging to one another.

With all my love,
Mom

Dearest Christopher,

Today, as we sit underneath the shade of a willow tree writing in our backyard, I’m remembering.

Actually, so many memories are tucked away in the shadows of my brain that it’s sometimes hard to choose which one to tell you about. But I think I’ll choose the one where I first saw you concerned for someone like yourself.

It started when you’d begun to have some breakthroughs, fewer meltdowns, some stilted conversations, and a love for family music.

Paula, a friend of ours, invited us to her little yellow house for dinner.

“I’m hoping you can come,” she told me, “because I’ve also invited a family with an autistic sixteen-year-old boy. He still isn’t talking, and his parents are getting desperate with his behavior and meltdowns.”

It was an interesting dinner.

We gathered around the overcrowded table, and their son, whom I’ll call Robby, began to bounce in his seat and wave his hands and really sort of roar.

You were still young, about nine, so you still had a little boy voice and little boy body. But this boy looked and sounded like a young man, so the behaviors were a bit startling, even frightening.

But you sat in your chair and watched him with an intrigued smile. You didn’t seem alarmed at all!

We tried to talk over the noise but didn’t get very far. At last, our hostess kindly suggested we sit out on the porch, “so the boys can play in the yard.”

We moved out to the rough wood porch, and Robby dropped down onto the ground on all fours and began to howl. His little mother rushed to his side and tried to lift him up, even though he was bigger than she was.

But you came over and dropped down on all fours like him.

“I’m a lion,” you said to him.

And you let out a roar, a bit like he was doing, but more distinctively lion-sounding.

Robby’s mother stepped back, surprised. You grinned at the boy and roared again.

I’d never seen you play like this with another child! But this was what we had done with you, especially a bit earlier in your journey when we’d had no communication. If you crawled, we crawled. If you rolled, we rolled. If you sorted blocks, we did it too. We were always looking for a window into your world, hoping that if we could step into your world, perhaps you could cross the bridge into ours.

So you crawled round and round Robby and roared. Suddenly, he was looking right at you. I hadn’t seen him look at anyone all evening, and he roared back at you!

Then you both crawled in a circle. He was no longer crying or roaring angrily; he was playing with you. His parents leaned over to me and said, “We’ve never seen him play like this!”

Then you stood up. “I’m going to teach you to dance,” you said.

Stretching out your hands, you reached toward him, and he lifted his hands. You joined hands, and he stood up.

Then you began to loudly sing, “Draw up water joyfully from the wells of Yeshua”—Jesus’ Hebrew name. It was an ancient Jewish song. And you and Robby began to twirl around in circles, leaping there on the lawn in the patterned shadows of the live oak trees.

You sang, and he laughed. It was a rusty sound, like his laughter was just escaping from a deep hidden well, but maybe it would turn out to be an artesian well.

Today, all the memories in my heart and mind seem to be springing up joyfully, and I can’t help but pass them along.

I hope you’ll keep on dancing in the sunlight, even when shadows cast patterns on your head.

With all my love,
Mom

I don’t normally send out an email on a Tuesday, but today I have a special announcement!

I’m so excited to tell you about the upcoming Homemakers Conference in Columbia, Tennessee, on October 17th and 18th.

This is absolutely one of my favorite events of the year, a time when women who are passionate about being wives, mothers, and homemakers come together to support, inspire, and encourage one another.

I am honored to have been asked to speak on several topics at this year’s conference. I’ll be talking about marriage, motherhood, and parenting—and yes, that includes raising both toddlers and teenagers!

I would absolutely love for you to come and join us.

And I have a special discount for you! When you register, use the code HOMESTEAD50 to receive your discount. So please go to the Homemaker Conference website right away to reserve your seat! https://www.universe.com/events/homemaker-conference-2026-tickets-D4Z6HM

I believe that when we unite and become a community of homemakers, we can do great things. Our homes can become nurturing places of love, peace, faith, and family, and together we can encourage one another in this beautiful and powerful work!

I’m looking forward to a wonderful weekend of learning, fellowship, encouragement, and being together with women who share a love for home and family.

I hope to see you there!

With love,
Amanda Lancaster

Dearest Daughters,

Once again, I would love to discuss babies.

As you know, babies are a big part of my heart. I had eight of my own and, as a midwife, have helped mommies deliver over 600 babies. Helping women become mommies is a passion and a love for me.

As mothers, it’s very easy to fall into the ditch of turning baby development and motherhood into a competition. Please don’t disgrace motherhood like that! But do pay enough attention to your baby to recognize if there is a true problem and your baby genuinely needs help.

Babies develop and grow at different rates. You’re the mom, so trust your instincts, but be wise enough to recognize when you’re seeing something that’s out of the normal for your baby.

Milestones are guideposts, not grades.

They can help us set parameters for our expectations, but they should never become an Olympic challenge.

I remember being a first-time mom and fretting and worrying. I remember conversations with my peers that were sometimes less than helpful.

My baby is eating, and she’s only five months. Your baby is six months and she hasn’t eaten yet? Is she okay?

Meanwhile, my baby was weighing a whopping twenty pounds at five months! I had no need to worry.

My baby is teething.

And I daily pried my baby’s mouth open to see if there was some disease preventing her teeth from coming in. Poor Helen! I’m so sorry.

My baby is walking.

And then I wondered if there was something wrong with mine. Are her legs okay? Why isn’t she walking?

This kind of competition creates nothing but anxiety and stress. Instead, look at your baby.

Is she smiling? Is she eating and growing? Is she happy and engaged? Does she coo with you? Does she respond to your voice and interact with the people and the world around her? Most importantly, is she progressing? Is she doing more things this month than she did last month? Is she continuing to develop? Then everything’s fine.

Anytime you see a regression in your baby—for instance, the loss of a skill previously had—that’s a time when you should reach out to your healthcare provider. But normally, just pay attention to her trajectory, and don’t become anxious just because someone else’s baby is doing something yours isn’t doing yet.

Be Careful Who You Ask

There’s another source of anxiety for young mothers today: “Dr. Google,” AI bots, and social media!

With the advent of the internet, suddenly we have endless mothers and babies to compare ourselves to—and endless diseases to be afraid of.

I’ve been a midwife for twenty-eight years, a mother for nearly twenty-nine, and I was the second of ten children. I’ve never seen fear in mothers like I see today.

When I was a young mom, most of the mothers I knew seemed much more confident. They asked their own mothers or grandmothers questions about their babies, but now we ask Dr. Google.

I’ve had so many women call me, terrified because their baby is crying, their baby’s belly is making noises, their baby spits up, or they aren’t sure whether something their baby is doing is normal.

Fear can make it very difficult for a mother to think clearly and make wise choices. And a frightened, tense mother can also have a harder time calming a frightened, tense baby.

If something isn’ nt alarming but you simply have a question, ask a mother whose mothering skills you admire. Ask someone experienced and wise. Don’t ask another novice who’s just as frightened as you are, and certainly don’t let social media become the authority on your baby.

If something truly concerns you, however, seek qualified medical help. Trusting your instincts does not mean assuming that you do or should always know the answer. Sometimes your mothering instinct is the thing telling you, Something isn’t right. I need help.

A Simple First-Year Mental Map

Now let me get into a few milestones. Milestones are not an exact science, and they are more useful for helping you see an overall trajectory than for giving your baby a deadline.

Once again, watch for progress.

Birth to Two Months

From birth to around two months old, your baby will gradually become more alert. She’ll begin to look at your face—to study it, even. She’ll begin smiling, reacting to your voice and other sounds, moving her arms and legs more vigorously, and briefly lifting and holding her head during tummy time.

You’ll begin to see that little person waking up to you and the world around her!

Around Four Months

Around four months, your baby will have many more interactions with you.

While she may have begun cooing much earlier, now you’ll hear more cooing and playful noises. She’ll smile to get your attention and may begin laughing. She may blow bubbles and raspberries as she experiments with her mouth.

She’ll hold her head much more steadily, bring her hands to her mouth, reach toward and grasp things, and bring her hands together toward the center of her body. Some babies will also begin rolling around this stage.

Around Six Months

Around six months, she’ll recognize familiar people and become increasingly interested in what’s happening around her.

She’ll reach purposefully to grab things, exploring them with her hands and mouth. She’ll roll, push herself up, and begin supporting herself while sitting.

She’ll laugh and make sounds back and forth with you. This is such a favorite stage because I always began to feel more and more as though I was having a conversation with you all—even though neither of us was using many words! What we stoop to, just to communicate with those little people!

Around Nine Months

Around nine months, your baby will usually be much more socially engaged.

She’ll make many different sounds and enjoy games such as peekaboo and pat-a-cake. And she may discover that delightful game where she drops something and watches Mommy fetch it—over and over and over again!

Your baby will transfer things between her hands and will often be sitting independently. Many babies will also have discovered some form of mobility by this time—perhaps scooting, belly crawling, or crawling—although babies vary quite a bit in how and when they decide to get around.

Talk to your baby often! It’s one of the most important things you can do with them.

Read books together. Let her touch things and explore the different textures. She’ll enjoy touching something soft, something slick, something bumpy, and learning about her world through her hands, instead of only her mouth.

Some babies will also begin pulling themselves up as they move through this stage and toward their first birthday.

Around Twelve Months

Around twelve months, your baby may be waving, clapping, understanding simple communication, and beginning to say or attempt early words.

She’ll love putting things into containers and taking them back out again.

She may be pulling herself to stand, standing while holding on, and cruising around the furniture.

Some babies are walking around twelve months.

Others will wait another couple of months.

Walking by the first birthday is not a requirement!

Resist the temptation to be looking sideways at other peoples’ babies, and comparing your own.

Look at your own child. God gave you your baby. He didn’t give everybody else your baby or you everyone else’s.

Month by month, ask yourself:

Is my baby developing?

Is my communication and connection with my baby growing?

Is she learning new things and becoming increasingly engaged with the world around her?

If she is, that’s encouraging!

Know When to Get Help

There is, however, a difference between refusing to be anxious and ignoring something that needs attention.

If something about your baby truly frightens you, seek help.

Once again, pay attention if your baby loses a skill she previously had, or if she seems too floppy or too stiff, stops responding to your voice or looking at you, or if she consistently moves one side of her body very differently from the other.

For example, if she’s using one arm normally but consistently keeping the other tucked against herself, that’s worth bringing to her medical provider.

Then there are times when it isn’t a developmental question, but a need for immediate emergency action. In these situations, always get medical guidance. If your baby has:

Difficulty breathing; blue, gray, or unusually pale coloring; a seizure; extreme difficulty waking; signs of significant dehydration; repeated forceful green vomiting; or a fever higher than 100.4 while under three months old—get competent help immediately.

Those would not be situations for comparing notes with other mothers or searching social media!

And Some Things Are Just Babies Being Babies

On the other hand, newborn babies do some very strange things!

Hiccups are normal.

Sneezing is normal.

Noisy sleep is normal.

Startling is normal.

Newborns may also have their own unique breathing pattern while sleeping. Sometimes there will be several rapid breaths and then a brief pause. But their breathing should always return to normal.

Their skin may peel.

Baby acne is very common and usually disappears on its own.

Spitting up is also very common, but repeated forceful vomiting, especially green vomiting, should be brought up with your healthcare provider.

There can also be variations in a baby’s stool. A breastfed baby’s stool is often a mustard-yellow color with a seedy appearance, but there can be normal variations from diaper to diaper.

Babies are living, changing little human beings. Not everything they do will look exactly like the photograph in the baby book.

Connect, Connect, Connect

Above all, connect, connect, connect with your baby.

Look into her eyes. Talk to her. Sing to her. Hold her. Read to her. Watch what interests her. Learn what makes her smile. Learn what overwhelms her. Learn the little sounds she makes and what they mean.

Become a student of your baby.

We will get into many more details about ways to teach and train your baby as we continue our journey through childhood and learning. But for now, these milestones can give you a few guideposts to help you see the trajectory.

Remember, motherhood is not a competition. Your baby is not a grade. She is not an Olympic challenge.

She is a living, breathing little person, and there is a beautiful amount of variation in human beings.

That is part of the beauty of being a person.

With all my love,

Mom

Dear Mom,

Thank you for the last letter you’ve written me. It reminded me of one of those times of getting into those tight spaces.

One bright afternoon, when everybody else was doing school, I had not started school yet. I remember taking my light, fluffy comforter off my bed—or sometimes just any other blanket that was soft, fuzzy, or anything that felt comfy to me—and completely wrapping myself up in it like one of those Egyptian mummies.

Then I would crawl underneath my own bed.

Read more

“I will both lie down in peace, and sleep: for You alone,O LORD, make me dwell in safety.” Psalm 4:8

Dearest Daughters,

Teaching your new baby to sleep can be a challenge, but don’t panic!

Sleep is actually something that a baby must learn. In the beginning, their habits and patterns are very chaotic; I suppose that means they are hardly patterns at all! Their little bodies have not yet gotten everything organized. They have not yet matured into the rhythms of sleeping and waking, eating and digesting, playing and relaxing, the way an adult body functions.

So don’t panic in those first weeks when you feel like you can’t tell when they want to eat and when they want to sleep. That is all part of the process.

But from my point of view, teaching your baby to sleep—and to sleep peacefully—is an incredibly important element of their early connection and training, because it is one of the first places that you teach your baby to trust.

You are teaching them:

Mommy is here. I am safe. Everything is quiet. I can let go. I can relax and rest in her arms, and then in the places where she lays me to rest.

This is a beautiful connection, and one that is building trust.

So don’t measure your success in motherhood by how well your six-week-old is sleeping! You have just begun the journey of motherhood and one of your first training experiences.

Teach the Difference Between Day and Night

Begin by teaching your baby the difference between night and day.

This isn’t a lesson plan that you’re going to organize, but rather a concept that you bear in mind throughout your own days and nights.

During the day, and specifically during your baby’s wakeful times, open the curtains. Open the windows if the weather is nice. Bring your baby to sit somewhere where they can watch you. Take your baby outside to experience the fresh air. Give them a bath. Talk and sing to them. Let them experience the ordinary life of the household.

With my babies, I really focused in the evenings on doing some of these activities, like taking the baby outside or giving them a bath, so that they could be wakeful and interested during that fussy time of the evening. Then they would be ready to relax and go to sleep.

Accentuate the difference between day and night, sleep time and wake time.

If the curtains are open and there is a fresh breeze during the day and during the times you want your baby to be wakeful, then when it is time to sleep, close the curtains, quiet the room, lower the lights, and bring the space in closer.

You are gently teaching their little body, Now it is time to rest.

Learn Your Baby’s Sleepy Language

The next thing I would do is learn your baby’s sleepy language.

Does your baby begin rubbing an ear? Yawning? Do the eyes become heavy-lidded? Do you notice a glazed-over expression or a particular kind of fussing?

Learn to recognize the way fatigue expresses itself in your particular baby. When you begin to see those signs, take note: This is what my baby looks like when he is tired.

It may be a good time for a nap or bedtime. If it isn’t quite the appropriate time, you may be able to take the baby outside, give them a bath, or engage them for a little longer as you gradually work toward the rhythm you are trying to establish. Don’t force an exhausted baby to stay awake, but little by little you can begin helping their days fall into a rhythm.

Develop a Bedtime Ritual

This, to me, is one of the most important things I did with my children. They all learned to love bedtime.

It doesn’t need to be an hour-long routine. In fact, I think simple is better, but try to do it in much the same way every time. Your baby will begin to recognize the cues that mean, It is time to go to sleep.

A typical newborn bedtime routine for me might have looked something like this:

Change the baby’s diaper. Put on pajamas and swaddle the baby while they are still young enough for swaddling. Feed and burp the baby with the lights down low. Rock and cuddle for a little while. Then sing a specific song while gently stroking their back in a circle.

As the baby is drifting off to sleep, or has just drifted off, I would gently ease them into their cradle, bottom first and head second, and lay them in a safe position. I would leave my hand resting on them for a moment, whisper a prayer, wait until I felt that little body relax, and then slowly slide my hand away.

That was a very typical routine for me when my newborns were learning to go to sleep.

Don’t be concerned by every little fuss and squirm. Babies make noises in their sleep and as they are letting go into sleep, just as adults sometimes twitch or jerk when they are drifting off.

Try to do the same thing each time. The repetition itself becomes comforting.

Don’t Be Afraid to Comfort Your Baby

Have freedom to do what helps you with your baby. If rocking, cuddling, patting, or gently rubbing their back helps your baby go to sleep, that does not mean you are necessarily creating some terrible habit. Just do it in moderation.

You don’t need to rock for two hours every night. Decide what you are willing and able to do consistently. Perhaps you rock for a few minutes, sing your song, rub their back, say your prayer, and then put them down.

Do approximately that same amount each time, and gradually they will learn what those things mean.

This is what we do before sleep.

I know what comes next.

I am safe.

I can relax.

Consistency is more important than creating some elaborate routine.

Make Sleep Safe

Your baby’s sleep space also needs to be safe. Use a firm, flat sleep surface, and place your baby in a position where their airway is open and clear. The current recommended model is on their back. Keep the actual sleeping area clear of squishy pillows, loose blankets, and other soft things that could cover the baby’s face or interfere with breathing.

I always liked giving my babies a small, soft mini blanket or little stuffed animal to cuddle while I breastfed them. They became familiar with the feel and smell of that special object, and it became another comforting cue.

And if your child eventually becomes attached to a particular comfort object when they are old enough to safely sleep with it, my practical advice is: have two! Buy two identical ones before you desperately need the second one.

If one is lost, dirty, or accidentally left somewhere, you will be very glad you did. My babies became attached to their special little things, and later it helped them sleep almost anywhere. That was a lifesaver to me.

Inch Toward a Rhythm

The habit of sleep develops over weeks and even months. I usually set a goal of having my baby settled into a somewhat predictable sleeping schedule by around three months. It wasn’t always accomplished for me by then, and sometimes it happened a little earlier, but it was usually somewhere close.

But we tried to inch toward the goal of a rhythm each day: a morning nap, an afternoon nap, and sometimes an additional nap when they were very little, and, as much as possible, a consistent nighttime bedtime.

Keeping bedtime fairly consistent was very, very helpful, both the timing and the routine surrounding it.

I always sang “Jesus Loves Me,” when I put my babies down for the night.

I always prayed as I put my hand on my baby’s back or body for a moment and gently rub until I felt their little body let go.

The moment that their little body relaxed in absolute trust and surrendered to sleep was always one of my favorite feelings in motherhood.

As your baby gets a little older and you know that they’re fed, dry, comfortable, and safe, you don’t necessarily have to rush in at every little complaint. Sometimes babies fuss briefly in their sleep and then settle themselves again. It helped me to set a timer, once they were old enough to have a sleep schedule, and see if they’d settle after five or ten minutes. If they didn’t, I’d go in quietly and repeat the last little piece of the bedtime ritual, a hand laid gently on them, a familiar prayer or song, a little pat, it was enough to remind them, Oh yes. It is still time to sleep.

But with a very young newborn, frequent waking and feeding are normal, so respond to their needs. There isn’t a problem just because your newborn wakes up!

You are both learning.

A Lesson I Learned the Hard Way

Now I have to tell you a funny story.

Breastfeeding during the night was always challenging because I could never remember which side I’d fed the baby on last. So I developed a system: I would lay my baby in the cradle with his head pointing in the direction of the side I needed to feed him on the next time.

When Blair was a baby, I fed him a lot during the night because he was a big and hungry baby.

One night, he woke up wailing to be fed again. Half asleep, I staggered toward the cradle, certain that I knew which direction his head was pointing because, of course, I had my wonderful system.

Apparently, somewhere along the way, my system, or rather, my memory, had failed. It was dark, and when I picked him up, I remember thinking that he felt very funny.

Then I realized that I had picked him up thinking his bottom was his head! This got him very quiet.

I was horrified when I realized how I was holding him. Fortunately, I had picked him up very gently, and he was nothing but a little surprised. So perhaps that was not the best method!

From then on, I put my baby’s head facing the same direction no matter which side I had fed them on. So the lesson is to develop the methods that actually help you remember what your very sleep-deprived brain is likely to forget!

Most of all, give yourself grace. Give your baby grace. You are learning each other.

For me, putting my babies to bed became one of the absolute sweetest bonding experiences of motherhood. I loved holding a fretful little baby and feeling the fretfulness slowly give way to peace. I loved feeling that little body relax against me and finally surrender itself to rest.

Because more than all the routines, schedules and naps, the real message that you are teaching is that: Mommy is here. You are safe. You are loved. You can rest. You can trust me.

And that, after all, is so much of what being a mommy is all about.

With all my love,

Mom

Dearest Christopher,

As I’ve mentioned to you before, prayer was something I worried about in the early years, wondering if you’d ever understand it. And now I completely rejoice in what your prayers have become—an example to all of us.

Today, I’d like to tell you about a story that you may remember…

Dad and I glanced at each other as the prayers continued from the seat behind us. I could just hear them above the rattles and groans of the RV as we lurched and lunged our way up the winding roads of Yellowstone National Park. Snow was melting from a late Father’s Day blizzard the night before.

Christopher, you rocked back and forth, alternating between prayers and talking to yourself.

“Let us see Old Faithful, in Jesus’ name.”

“I’m not going to be upset. I’m not going to be upset.”

“I’m not going to be discouraged, but I am going to see Old Faithful.”

Then you added, “Jesus answers prayers. He does. I know He does!”

And on and on the litany of supplications poured forth.

This detour to Yellowstone had not originally been in our travel plans as we headed northwest to visit family, but Dad had made the mistake—or perhaps not—of bringing an atlas along on the journey, which you began to pore over.

“Dad!” you exclaimed with full enthusiasm, shoving your dark bangs back from your eyes. “Did you realize that Yellowstone is on the way to Montana, where we’re going?”

Really, though, it had all begun quite a bit before that, when you became obsessed with volcanoes and geysers.

You created geysers by dropping candy into soda bottles and made volcanos with baking soda and vinegar. You studied every book we had on volcanoes and geysers. You knew all the details of Pompeii and Mount St. Helens and seemingly every other volcano that existed.

And Old Faithful was a special friend of yours in your head. You knew its patterns. You knew where it was. You knew the pressure and the volume of water coming out.

“We’ve got to go by Yellowstone and see Old Faithful,” you pleaded.

So we decided to change our route.

“Now, Christopher,” Dad told you, “there are many, many geysers in Yellowstone, and we may not get to see Old Faithful, but we’ll definitely see a geyser.”

As a matter of fact, Dad and I had been there a few years before and had been rather unimpressed. After waiting in a mob of people for an hour, Old Faithful had finally gone off, and we found many of the other geysers to be just as impressive, if not more so.

We tried to prepare you for that, but it was Old Faithful that you wanted to see, and so the prayers went on and on.

“What do we do?” I asked Dad.

“See if you can call the visitor center and find out what the Old Faithful schedule is today.”

The problem was that we still needed to set up camp, tents and everything, before dark, as well as eat supper, and Uncle Kevin and Aunt Abby were meeting us for that supper. We didn’t feel like we could afford to wait a long time at Old Faithful. And we were leaving the next morning. We had people to meet.

When I checked the schedule, it looked as though by the time we arrived, Old Faithful would have erupted about forty minutes earlier and wouldn’t be due to erupt again for another half hour.

“We won’t have half an hour,” Dad said. “But we’ll go by there, and if it goes off in ten or fifteen minutes, we’ll see it. Otherwise, you’re going to have to settle yourself and be thankful to see the other geysers.”

We pulled up to Old Faithful, and sure enough, there were crowds of people sitting around waiting. We found our place, and you prayed. Loudly!

“In Jesus’ name, let this geyser go off.”

I looked at the clock. It wasn’t due for another thirty minutes, but we sat there anyway.

We had only been sitting there for about three minutes when suddenly it began to steam, then to bubble. And suddenly, into the gray sky, a geyser of white water shot upward. It grew larger and fuller by the second, reaching approximately forty feet.

And Christopher, you began to leap and dance, to bow and bend and shriek right there in front of all those people.

“I prayed! I prayed! I prayed!” you shouted, as you leapt and twirled.

“And there it is! Old Faithful!”

Dad and I looked at each other, laughing and crying, and the whole crowd began to cheer and applaud. But they weren’t looking at Old Faithful. They were looking at you, dancing there beneath the steam, overwhelmed with joy because Old Faithful had sprung forth from the rocks. And you had prayed.

Keep praying, and I know that Old Faithful will always spring forth, instant in season and out of season.

With all my love,

Mom

Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. Philippians 2:4

Dearest Daughters,

This week I’d like to discuss another element of having a newborn baby. Your husband is becoming a father just as you are becoming a mother, and this is a life-changing event in his life just as much as it is in yours.

You may not see this as easily as you see the changes in yourself, because he’s not the one who was pregnant with the baby nor gave birth. Neither is he the one breastfeeding the baby nor doing most of the work of changing, dressing, swaddling, and rocking.

But the internal change of knowing that this baby has been given to him by God is enormous. He is the main one who will wash you and the child in the Word of Christ, who will bear responsibility for the direction the family takes and for the eternal soul of this little one.

And beyond that, he has just watched you go through a birth—and in my experience, both as a mother and a midwife, this is one of the hardest things a man can watch.

So ask the Lord to give you empathy for his side of the picture.

He Is Becoming a Father Too!

Most men do not experience newborns in the same way that women do. The mommy wants to immediately touch the baby from head to toe, count their fingers and toes, observe their every movement, and compare it to how it felt when they were still inside the womb.

Men spend more time watching the mother with the baby and the way the baby responds to the mother, and vice versa, than they do actually examining the baby. They see the whole picture of the family coming together more than they get into those little newborns, who they sometimes even seem slightly frightened of, in my experience.

Yes, Daddy loved to hold all of you, but he enjoyed you more once you could play and giggle and be tickled and thrown in the air and things like that. The relationship developed later and slower than it did with me.

But what he loved in the newborn phase was watching you connect with me and me connect with you. I found him to be a little awkward with the brand-new babies, and I see this as very common with men.

Remember that your husband is becoming a father. This is happening to him at the same time that motherhood is happening to you.

Your husband is going to admire you greatly for having brought that baby into the world. Are you admiring him as much as he is admiring you?

Be sure to make a point to tell your husband, “You’re a father now. We made this baby together with God!” Show appreciation for him and for the place he now fills in the life of this little child.

Make room for your husband to get to know the baby.

Lay the baby between the two of you when you’re sitting in bed together, first thing in the morning or last thing at night, and point out the things the baby is doing. Tell your husband about the baby when he first looks at you or smiles at you.

Offer for him to hold the baby if he wants to, but do not impose it upon a brand-new father who’s not sure how to support the head and is a little afraid of breaking that fragile baby.

His relationship with the baby may not develop exactly as yours does. It may develop later and more slowly, but that does not mean it is less important. Give him room to become a father in his own way.

Protect Your Marriage While Your Family Changes

Remember, every person in the family has a place. Especially with first-time moms, your husband filled up almost all of the space of love and care in your heart. So when the baby is born, the place for the father shifts a bit in terms of your direct affection, physical touch, and love.

No human being can go through that transition without feeling it, and it’s important to remain emotionally connected through this time. Protect your marriage.

Any transition, any new relationship, will cause the relationships around it to feel shaky, so defend your love. Defend your intimacy.

Do not get so caught up with your own fatigue, your soreness, and tiredness that you do not pay attention to the relationships that will sustain you through those experiences.

Speak kindly, even when you’re exhausted. Show gratitude for every single act of love, affection, and service that your husband shows to you.

Affection and Intimacy After Birth

The postpartum period can be a little turbulent for physical intimacy with your spouse. You’re sore and tired and your hormones are all over the place. But don’t let this prevent you from showing love and affection, including physical affection, in ways that you can during this time. While it may look different than before the birth, there are still ways to express your affection, so don’t delete those just because you can’t resume everything immediately.

Take your time, express your needs and your fears, but don’t do nothing! Physical interaction is an affirmation of love and relationship, and you’d be surprised how easy it is once you decide to show it.

Self-sacrificing love is vital to marriage. That means you show love, even physical love, when you don’t feel it, and here is a time that you can do that within the the limitations of this season.

Demonstrate your love and affection and watch what happens. It will grow and flow again, like before and even better than before, if you actually take the step to express yourself when you feel it the least.

If you don’t feel as physically attuned and satisfied in your marriage as you did before, don’t panic! It’s okay. This is just called exhaustion and hormone fluctuation. It will pass!

So don’t be afraid. Just step out without fear, and show the love that a marriage needs to thrive, and in time you will experience everything you long for again.

Become Teammates, Not Scorekeepers

Become teammates in the raising of your new little baby.

Don’t ever be scorekeepers of how many times you got up or who changed a diaper. That isn’t the way relationships work. They aren’t added up numerically, but they fit together through strengths and weaknesses, through ebb and flow, through seasons that change.

There will be things you can do that your husband can’t do—at least not with the grace of a mother—just as there are things he does better than you. There will also be burdens he can carry for you when you are tired and depleted. You don’t need to make everything equal. You need to learn how to fit together.

And remember, though your husband can never nurse your baby, give him your heart to hold, because he will always be able to carry that.

With all my love,

Mom

Pacing back and forth in the cool shade of the giant, rough-barked, 200-year-old pecan trees in our green front yard, where we lived at the bottom of a hill, I remember repeating, for practice, those words: “Hi, hi, hi, hi, hi, hi,” over and over and over again.

Read more

“Trust in the LORD with all your heart; and lean not on your own understanding.
In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths.”
Proverbs 3:5–6

Dearest Daughters,

Last week we discussed the beauty of becoming a mother, the change of identity. I would like to continue along the vein of new babies and new mommies.

Everything wonderful and beautiful comes with its challenges, and babies are no different. So let’s talk about the immediate postpartum phase for a minute here. What is going on in your body, and what is going on in your baby?

Physical recovery from a birth is not something that should be taken lightly or flippantly. Now, every birth isn’t the same, and some births certainly require more time for physical recovery than others. But in all of them, even the easiest births, you need to pay attention, because more is going on than you realize.

That amazing wonder organ, the placenta, that has been present in your body for the past nine months, has just left. And this has more of a bearing on you than you might think.

The placenta is a marvel. It functions as so many organs for the baby. It takes the place of the lungs. It’s also the filter, functioning for the kidneys and the liver. It’s feeding the baby and doing the work of the digestive tract.

But what it does for you is that it produces estrogen and progesterone, two of the primary female hormones. And when that organ evacuates your body, your body literally drops off of a hormonal cliff!

This can cause anxiousness, night sweats, painful cramps, and intense mood swings. You might find yourself crying over everything and nothing.

I had a beautiful birth. I love my baby. Why am I crying? I’m so happy, yet I can’t stop crying!

Your kids come to visit, and you’re convinced that they hate you, that they have completely backslidden from every bit of training you’ve poured into them. You may look at your own body and think it’s ugly. And you’ve just metamorphosed into the local Dairy Queen! All these things may be whirling through your mind.

The feelings are real; I’ll acknowledge that. We can expect them, because the hormonal waterfall has just dried up in an instant!

However, the perspectives are not real.

So don’t take your thoughts and feelings too seriously in those first days and even weeks after a birth. This is all part of the process and probably God’s way of helping us to rest a little more.

Because on top of the hormonal crash, you’re exhausted. You’re getting up all night. You’re quite sore. Your body has just gone through an enormous physical event, and you’ve got that little baby to care for, so don’t become overwhelmed and despondent.

The Scriptures tell us that a woman will be “saved through childbearing.” I think that Scripture can mean a lot of things, but one of the things I’ve thought about is that childbearing can teach us to trust in God and in others—anything besides our own perspective—and we all need to learn to do that!

Someday we’re going to be old and feeble. We will then need even more trust for others and God. Postpartum changes can provide a meaningful step along our journey of increasing trust, teaching us to surrender in a new way. So don’t become defeated when you feel those attitudes and moods. Say to yourself, That’s my hormones talking.

Those hormonal changes can produce what some call “the baby blues”: the crying, the mood swings, anxiousness, and emotional vulnerability that are frequent in the first days after birth. But if those feelings become severe, or continue rather than beginning to dissipate, reach out for help. Some of these health struggles are difficult, and asking for help is part of learning to trust and to allowing yourself to be loved.

We can fortify ourselves during this vulnerable time by being prepared, by trusting others, and by binding satan. He loves to ride in on our weaknesses, on our hormones, on our fatigue, and we don’t have to let him.

Allow yourself to be cared for and loved by your friends and family. Accept help and embrace relationships, both in that season of postpartum recovery and ahead of time in anticipation of it.

Don’t be shy to reach out for help if you need it, to hear another perspective and another angle.

Drinking plenty of water is also vital during this period of time as your body adjusts, recovers, and, if you’re breastfeeding, begins producing milk. Plenty of rest is an absolute necessity.

Give yourself to your baby, to lying down and snuggling and just observing your beautiful new infant. Pay attention to their needs, to the changes in them. Admire them openly and speak peace into your own heart and into theirs.

And what’s going on in your baby? They’re learning to acclimate to a world outside of the womb!

They’ve gone from living surrounded by water, receiving oxygen through the placenta, to living in air and breathing with their own lungs. Their nervous system is still immature, which is why they’re constantly moving, startling, flailing their little arms, and sometimes slugging themselves in the face.

They haven’t yet learned what is day and what is night, so don’t get in a rush.

Help them make this transition as gently as possible, giving them a peaceful, dark night, soothing music to put them to sleep, your voice to bring them comfort, and breastfeeding to nourish them, comfort them, and help protect their developing immune system.

It’s really a lovely season, but everything lovely comes with a price, and it only makes it more valuable.

So don’t get caught in the mire of the challenges!

Look forward to the brand-new and beautiful relationship that is just beginning.

With all my love,
Mom

Dearest Christopher,

I’ve always loved your unfiltered perspectives. Without fail, you have a way of saying aloud what everyone else is actually thinking.

Here’s the story that comes to mind.

The long-melted ice lay flat and flecked in the sweaty glasses like the last undesirable sip. I emptied each one into the porcelain sink, rinsed it, refilled it with ice from the growling, clunking ice maker, and finally filled it, this time, with water. The punch was long gone after so many refills.

I glanced at my watch: 11:30. Five-thirty in the morning was going to come very soon.

But the volume, the storytelling, from the living room was unremitting and undiminished. The flow of verbiage bounded through the house like an untamed mountain creek in springtime.

Christopher, you twirled and leaped behind me around the kitchen, bowing and bending, muttering indecipherable words and grunts under your breath. Suddenly you stopped at my elbow.

“Mom! These people…” you began.

“Sh!” I tried to hush you, but it was already too late as you blasted out your perspective at 900 decibels.

I’d worried about you earlier in the day as we prepared a feast for company. You’d seemed especially antsy, with lots of running, flapping, and bowing.

“Christopher,” I prepared you, “we’re having company tonight. They’ll be coming for dinner, and we’ll be eating quesadilla burgers.”

“Oh, we’re having company,” you repeated to the porch rail behind my shoulder.

“We’re not going to do lots of running while they’re here,” I went on.

“Oh, why can’t Christopher run?” you asked the porch rail.

“Sometimes company doesn’t know why you’re running, so it’s best not to do it the whole time,” I explained, though I was actually more concerned about the conversations you always carried on with yourself while you were running.

I wasn’t overly concerned. The couple had spent many years in Latin America and seemed the easygoing type. They were new friends, eager to get to know our family and church community. Unfortunately, we hadn’t really had a chance to prepare them for your situation, and during that season, that preparation was often needed.

Our family of nine pulled the extra leaf into the table, gathered long-leaf pine chairs and a bench around it, and dug into the quesadilla burgers. Banter passed back and forth as our new friends, Harry and Lisette, filled every lull with hilarious stories from their globe-trotting life—their children, their dog, border crossings, and adventures from years overseas.

Upon their arrival, Lisette greeted each of us with a kiss on both cheeks. Her graying hair was pulled back in a knot, and her eyes seemed to smile all the time. When she reached you, Christopher, you leaped backward, threw your arms behind you, and stared at her with your dark eyebrows raised so high they disappeared beneath your bangs. Smiling, I quietly stepped in front of you to receive my greeting just as she reached over to pinch your younger brother Nicolas’s cheek.

Otherwise, the evening went off without a hitch…

…until it didn’t.

I’d never heard so many stories in one evening! These people were funny! As we wandered down the winding pathways of their memories, we visited the schools their children had attended, their pet poodle back home, their children when they were young, a war they had been caught in…

The clock worked its way around hour after hour, and I began to wonder just how long they intended to stay as it crept closer and closer to midnight.

The sound of Texas cicadas reached through the windows, closed tight against the summer heat. Still the stories rollicked on.

Must be Latin culture, I thought. I’d have thought that at their age they’d be ready for bed.

I’d refilled the glasses six times. The last cookie crumbs had long since disappeared from the platter.

Repeatedly, you sprang from your chair, dashed behind the couch, and ran back and forth a time or two with a quick bow, your lips moving, fortunately without any audible sounds. I knew you were desperate to run. I’d lean forward to catch your eye, shake my head, and you’d reluctantly collapse back into your chair, rocking back and forth instead.

Finally, you followed me into the kitchen as I filled the glasses once again.

“Mom!” you bellowed. “These people are staying way too long! Why are they talking and talking and talking and talking? They are too loud!”

“Christopher!” I gasped.

The chatter in the living room stopped instantly.

“Oh, no.”

I peeked around the doorway.

Every eye in the room was already on me.

Then we all burst into laughter until we wiped tears from our eyes. The tension disappeared as quickly as it had come.

Harry stood, stretched, and grinned at you.

“Well,” he said, “I guess Christopher has spoken.”

Then, pointing toward the door, he laughed again.

“We’re leaving now! It’s the Latin culture coming through, but we like a man who speaks his mind.”

And just like that, they gathered their things, hugged everyone goodbye, forwent the kisses on your cheeks, and disappeared into the warm Texas night.

I smiled at Dad as you dashed into the dark for a little running before bed.

You had simply said what the rest of us had been thinking for the last hour. You were honest enough to say it out loud.

Love,

Mom

Dearest Daughters,

Well, today begins a new series! I’d like to spend the next few weeks talking about one of my favorite topics—babies!

The much loved Christmas song that we often sing says, A baby changes everything. I know it’s speaking of our Lord Jesus, but it’s drawn from what we all know is true of every baby.

I’d like to share something I wrote in A Time to Be Born about the life change I went through when you, Helen, were born:

And I was in love. But more than that, I felt like a window had opened, a light had come on, and I was seeing life and love in some ways for the first time. I was seeing myself for the first time—my own vulnerability, but also previously untapped strengths. I was seeing your dad—his empathy, his steadiness, his love—in ways I’d never seen before.

And every other identity seemed to shed off of me like an old skin. I was a mother.

In one moment, I had become a missionary, and the mission field was your heart, Helen. I had become a nurse, and my charge was to care for your little body and soul. I’d become a teacher, and my student was you. I’d become a prophetess, and the one who needed vision from me was you.

This was not the mundane drudgery I had once imagined motherhood to be, a thing you hurried through in your youth and strength so that someday you could go on to greater things. No, this was the GREAT thing. This was my calling, but even more, it had become who I was.

If I could say anything to mothers-to-be and brand-new moms, I would tell them: Embrace the identity.

Every time you cuddle that little infant, whisper to yourself, I am a mother. Every time you get up in the middle of the night for a feeding, let that sacrifice strip away every lesser identity as you enter into one of the highest callings He’s given humanity. Become your baby’s mother.

This brings me to a few practical thoughts.

Skin-to-skin contact is precious and important, especially in the first moments after birth. Hold your baby, and let them feel you, smell you, hear your heartbeat, and study your face. A newborn sees best at about fourteen to eighteen inches away, the perfect distance to gaze into the face of the one God has made to love them first—you!

Whenever possible, keep your newborn with you. You can swaddle them and hold them in your arms or carry them in a body wrap even while you accomplish other tasks. Those bonding hours are actually forming brain pathways, emotional security, and deep attachment that will shape their future life.

With you, Helen, I was never out of the same space with you until you were five months old. There have certainly been seasons with some of my other children when illness or circumstances required something different. Motherhood is full of unpredictable twists and turns, but as much as possible, I’ve tried to remain close to my babies, because I believe those hours together are among the most important (and wonderful) work we do.

Talk to your newborn from the very first day. Even though they don’t yet understand your words, they recognize your voice, understand your love, your delight, your comfort. Use different tones of voice. Laugh with them. Sing to them. Speak comfort and peace to them, and let them also hear joy in your voice. Even read to them! Long before they understand language, they are learning to love and be loved.

Breastfeeding is a wonderful bonding opportunity, so try not to miss a single feed. Notice their rooting and sucking cues. Even if they’re not hungry, they may be indicating that they need some bonding time.

Each cuddle, each feeding and each incoherent baby conversation is building the foundation of their little heart and their future life. You are constructing the emotional foundation upon which they will stand for the rest of their lives.

So try not rush through these early days! Hold them often, and speak to them constantly. Take immense joy in these brief moments of babyhood! And as you do, you are becoming their mother, just as they are growing into childhood.

With all my love,

Mom

Dear Mom,

I remember taking random books out of our big red-brown cedar library shelf parked against one of the deep blue walls of my bedroom. Sorting through the piles of books I had wheelbarrowed from the shelf, I was fishing for books about weather, geology, or even natural disasters from the world’s past or future predictions.

Read more

“Above all, keep loving one another earnestly… Show hospitality to one another without grumbling. As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another.”1 Peter 4:8-10

Dearest Daughters,

As we bring our six-week focus on housekeeping tips to a close, I want to leave you with one more practical skill, but above all, with a few final perspectives on homemaking itself.

The practical skill is one I learned years ago from Sink Reflections by the FlyLady. I may have altered it a bit over the past two decades, but this is the way I adapted it in my own home. She had much good advice, some which fit my lifestyle and some did not. But this one has been part of my housekeeping ever since.

Take two bags, one for trash and one for giving away to charity, Goodwill, or a neighbor. You might even add a third bag for a garage sale or fundraiser. Then set a timer for ten or fifteen minutes and head into the closet, dresser, pantry, or storage area you want to tackle. See how full you can get those bags before the timer rings.

I especially loved doing this in the fall with the children’s toys. Christmas was coming, relatives would soon be sending gifts, and I wanted their toy bins to have room to not overflow! I’d quickly gather broken toys for the trash, toys they had long outgrown or no longer enjoyed for the giveaway bag, and occasionally a few nicer items for a garage sale.

It was amazing how much lighter the room felt simply from removing the excess!

Although I usually set the timer for only ten or fifteen minutes, I often found myself finishing the entire project, or at least accomplishing far more than I expected.

The same method worked beautifully with my own closet. Perhaps not the entire closet at once, but one section at a time. One day the dresser drawers. Another day the upper shelf. Another day the hanging clothes. Pull everything out, don’t be afraid of the temporary mess, and sort quickly into the three bags.

You’d be surprised how much can be accomplished in fifteen focused minutes. An entire child’s dresser can often be finished in that time. I found I could usually do about a quarter of my own closet, and since Dad and I share one closet, that meant nearly half of one person’s belongings. Two short sessions in a day, and most of the closet was finished.

I’ve even used this method in the pantry, the kitchen cupboards, and storage sheds. It’s a wonderfully refreshing way to declutter without feeling overwhelmed.

But now, let me leave you with what matters most. Do not look at housekeeping as a job to get through. Look at it as membership in a community of homemakers—a community you have the privilege of joining.

It may take a little Olympic training to reach your goals, but you made it into the club. Hallelujah!

Homemaking is not about who has the cleanest house or the prettiest decorations, but about who has created a home: a place of peace, love, welcome, and belonging.

Ironically, when that becomes your goal, your house often becomes cleaner as well. More importantly, it becomes a place where your husband can rest, your children can flourish, and your guests can find peace and friendship.

And please, never compare yourselves among yourselves. As I mentioned in an earlier letter, there are seasons when homes are naturally more cluttered than others. A house full of toddlers may stay tidy for only a few moments at a time, perhaps only while everyone is asleep. An empty nest may remain orderly for days, but both can be beautiful seasons.

Do not judge your sisters, and they will not judge you. Instead, build a sisterhood, a community of homemakers who encourage and support one another through every season of life.

I think of the words of that wonderful song:

“All of my life, in every season, You are still God. I have a reason to sing. I have a reason to worship.”

Let Him be Lord of every season, of the attitudes and the atmosphere of your home, and in time He will also become Lord of the tidiness, the meals, the schedule, and the countless ordinary tasks that make up a faithful life, because you are on a journey with Him, and the goal is up ahead!

I love you all.

I pray you discover the deep joy that can only be found in making a true home.

Welcome to the community of homemakers!

Love,
Mom

Dearest Christopher,

In my early years of reading about autism, studying everything I could get my hands on, and interrogating your doctor and speech therapist, I learned a great many things. Dad and I even took a ninety-hour course on the workings of the brain. I came away realizing one thing above all:

It’s a wonder anybody’s brain and body can function normally.

The workings of the brain are a miracle.

Among the many things we learned about were savant skills, or splinter skills, as they are sometimes called in the world of autism. Some autistic children seemed to possess remarkable gifts of math, art, memory or music. We wondered whether we would ever see anything like that in you.

We eventually did. The first hint came from music.

Once, on a road trip, I played a Bach piece I had downloaded, hoping the music would help soothe the long drive for you. It was intricate and beautiful, the kind of piece I simply enjoyed listening to without ever attempting to remember it.

A few minutes later, Daddy and I heard you quietly humming in the back seat. You gazed out the window at the blur of New Mexico landscape, as your voice lilted through movement after movement of the entire piece!

We looked at one another in amazement. Your musical memory was unlike anything the rest of us possessed.

As the years passed, your memory continued to surprise us.

When you were about eleven, I asked all the children to keep journals. As usual, yours turned out rather differently.

You had been fascinated by weather ever since you could talk. Wind, tornadoes, hurricanes, volcanoes—anything powerful completely filled your thoughts and imagination. Instead of writing about your day, you began making an elaborate weather handbook.

I still can picture you sitting at the dining room table, your sketchbook spread open, a handful of crayons rolling around beside your pencil as you bent over yet another page—on weather! The rest of us would pass by from time to time just to see what you were working on next.

Page after page appeared: fresh breezes, gales, hurricanes, tornadoes, earthquakes, each one carefully and beautifully illustrated and described.

Finally, curiosity got the better of me, and I pulled several weather books from the shelf and began checking your work.

“Christopher,” I thought, “you’re a little plagiarist!” Except you had never copied anything. Many of your descriptions were nearly word for word, even down to the punctuation, but they came from a variety of books you’d read months, perhaps years, before.

“Honey,” I finally called to Daddy, “I think Christopher may have some sort of photographic memory.”

We never completely solved that mystery. We simply learned to accept it, because the ability seemed to appear in some places but not all.

One spring afternoon, I saw it again. The Godsey’s, your second cousins and my first cousins, came over for one of our family writing workshops. We gathered beneath the cedar trees with the pungent scent of cedar mingling with the rich smell of damp spring earth. A gentle breeze stirred the branches overhead while you and Nicolas carried the big whiteboard out into the yard.

It was poetry day, so I copied a Robert Frost poem onto the board, and together we studied its rhythm and rhyme before trying our hand at writing something similar. We laughed over awkward meters and rather cheesy rhymes until finally I wrote a simpler poem on the board for everyone to imitate.

When your turn to read came, you read a lovely poem that left us all speechless.

“Wow, Christopher,” I said. “Did you really write that yourself?”

You looked at me with a furrow under your shock of dark hair.

“Well… I hope I did it right. But once I read this poem in a book, and it matches that.” You pointed at the poem on the board with your weathered pencil.

“What book?”

You couldn’t remember.

“One of the ones on the bookshelf.”

It followed the pattern perfectly.

“That’s wonderful,” I smiled, “but this time you were supposed to write one out of your own head.”

You threw back your head and laughed.

“I don’t have words like that in my head.”

We all laughed with you, but the reality was that you did. While the words most of us read flutter away like summer moths, somehow those beautiful lines had been engrave into your mysterious memory and waited there until this day when they were needed.

Christopher, though you have fought battles that most of us will never face, God has also entrusted you with gifts that most of us will never possess.

The same God who tucked melodies safely into your memory and preserved the words of poets you scarcely remembered reading also knew why He entrusted those gifts to you.

Cherish them, and use your music to glorify Him. Use your memory to bless His children.

Every gift He gives is meant to become a doorway through which someone else discovers His love.

Love,
Mom