Our First-Born

Jonah’s birthday was a few weeks ago.  He turned six.  SIX.  YEARS.  OLD.

My momma heart just about explodes trying to fathom how that could be possible.

This child, this little boy… I longed for him for what felt like forever.  After losing our first child to miscarriage, he was a gift I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to receive.

And what a gift you are, my sweet wee man.   Your mind is constantly on the move… always seeking the answers, and often so intent on self-discovery that you refuse to “admit defeat” by asking questions.  More often than not, I find you these days with your head in a book, engrossed in the worlds reading has opened up to you.  Your heart is tender, and you love to sneak in one-on-one cuddle time with Mommy whenever you can, especially during naptime (the only time when your siblings are out of the picture for a bit).  I love that you love your new Bible, and that you look forward to the first minutes of the morning when you can curl up in Daddy’s leather recliner and read a chapter from Luke’s gospel.  We pray constantly that God might use His Word to teach your heart, to lead you to seek out and make peace in the world… and we praise Him that we see glimpses of that fruit in your life already.

We have a special connection, you and me.  You are my “Jonah-Bug”… and according to you, no one else gets to call you by that name, yet I’m supposed to call you by no other.  Deal, kiddo.  😉

My dear Jonah, you hold a piece of my heart bigger than you can even imagine, a piece larger than I could dream such a little man could hold.   I’ll love you always, and I can’t wait to see what the next year has in store.

Bode, Jonah, Annie, and I doing our superhero poses

 

Coming to the young maiden's aid, as every good hero should 🙂

Getting ready to blow out the candles!

Jonah opening presents with his friends

(We celebrated at a local park with a “superhero” themed party; I made simple hero capes for our three little ones, and cut out masks from a free pattern I found online, binding them with elastic, so all the guests could make their own “mask creation.”  It was a blast!)

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Just call me Grumpy McGrumpy-pants.

“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.” – John Muir

Yes, I have been gravely neglectful of the bloggy blog lately.

Instead, I have been longing.

After a flurry of referrals and movement in our first few weeks on the waitlist for our daughter — in August — September was the opposite.  Very little movement.  Not that I expect us to move lightning fast and have our referral in hand by the end of the year or anything.  We knew we were in for a long wait when we signed on to the process.  And yes, moving from #64 to #50 in two months is great.  But only one of those referrals was an infant girl; the rest were families who dropped off the list after accepting a child or children from other lists (baby boy, toddler boy, toddler girl, waiting children).  So I’m thinking a year is a tremendously optimistic projection at this point.  It may likely be much, much longer.  Sigh.

Seemingly simultaneously, my maternal longings have kicked into high gear, and feeling like we’re SO far away from bringing Baby E home — and feeling that longing for her deep in my soul — makes every week that goes by without movement on the list practically unbearable.  Grrr to my total lack of patience.  Please pray for me.

And while longing, I have been dragging.  I am not a warm weather-lovin’ gal by any stretch, and each September in Colorado is — usually — a beautiful, rejuvenating time for my body and soul.  Usually.  This year, not so much.  I pretty much grumped through the entire 80-90+ degree month, scowling every morning that I had to, yet again, put on tank tops and sandals instead of my coveted hoodies and clogs.  Double grrrr to you, stinky hot September.

As if to add insult to injury, the entire first week of October followed in September’s lousy footsteps.  Seriously, it usually snows in the Front Range at some point during the first week of October.  Instead, I got a sunburn at the Air Force Academy football game.  On October 9th.  Triple grrr.

And I’ve been struggling spiritually as well… dealing with lots of feelings of jealousy, covetousness, you name it.  September marked the second full year of Bryan working under a pretty steep paycut, and it’s really getting to me.  Grrr to the nth degree.

So in summary:  I have spent much of the past six weeks being Grumpy McGrumpy-pants.

I need autumn.  A real, honest-to-goodness Fall.  A transition of seasons, a brisk breeze moving through the changing leaves that brings a bite to the air along with an authentic freshness, a newness, a starting-over and renewal.

Autumn points to our Creator in so many ways, not the least of which is its breathtakingly visual promise of life through death.  Beauty through ashes.  It gives me hope that I can likewise be made new again… if I only let myself die.

That’s the hard part.

So I need autumn’s message, its peace, right now.  Desperately.

Lord help me.

That being said, there are positive bits of news to share:

* We’ve been feeding Annie (our 18-month old baby girl with RTA) Trader Joe’s Valencia Peanut Butter with Flaxseeds like medicine.  Five small spoonfuls every single day = approximately 1 tablespoon = about 100 extra power-packed calories into her tiny system.  Score.

* I have been reading a lot lately.  The book Amusing Ourselves to Death is solid.  Rock solid.  As in it is probably more than 80% responsible for the bloggy hiatus.  Hands down the most convicting “secular” book I’ve read in memory.  If I ever again spend enough time in front of the computer to write a thoughtful post, it’s at the top of my list for a shared review.

* I have also been participating in my lovely friend Cara’s online book discussion on Francis Chan’s Crazy Love.  If you’re at all interested, it’s on sale for $5.47 on Amazon right now (super cheap!) and you can join in.

* Bode is officially potty-trained.  Praise Jesus.  Here’s proof:

 

The Potty Master himself. 🙂

 

– – –

I do promise to share thoughts on my oldest child turning the ripe old age of six, as well as memories from our annual SFASR (Starr Family Annual Strategic Retreat), which we did a few weeks ago.  Soon.  Cross my heart.

May the remainder of your October be filled to the brim with hot chowder, cozy slippers, and a renewed heart, mind, and soul.  Amen.

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