It’s been 18 days since Ezzy was diagnosed with the flu.  I had someone say after running into us (we took to her on an evening errand so she could remember what fresh air felt like that wasn’t tied to a doctor appt), they said “oh, she looks better!”  I cringed, ezzy immediately turned to me and gave me the look of “you have no clue” and she walked away to go and find the safety of her dad. I have often wondered what it would be like if she had a disease that was visible…

Ezzy’s care plan the last 18 days:

45 hrs on her vest machine and nebulizer (doing her vest 4x a day – time does not include the amount of time needed to persuade her to do them)

5 days of tamiflu

4 days of bactrium (antibiotic)

600 enzymes (to digest her food)

72 pills of orakambi (life saving CF drug)

36 vials of hypteronic saline solution (nebulized med)

18 vials of pulmazyme (nebulized med)

11 days of high dose augmentin (antibiotic)

3 doctor appts

1 chest xray

3 throat cultures (which usually bring tears because of discomfort and built up anxiety)

1 nasal swab

1 pulmonary function test

2 appts with counselor to help her process this road bump

5 consults via phone with her CF team

11 days of no school

2 missed soccer practices

3 missed soccer games

2 missed bible clubs

3 missed church services

Handful (lost count) of mental breakdowns over the injustice of having CF

Today we had another follow up consult with her team via the phone. Which by the way is so incredibly hard on the caregivers.  We are tasked with the sole responsibility to assess appropriately and communicate clearly what is going on with Ezzy. The constant worry “am I missing something?” “shoot I forgot to say …before I hung up?” “what if I don’t see the whole picture?”, runs at rapid speed on a loop track in my mind.

I was anticipating other news.  We were told last week if she wasnt better to be prepared for an admit to the hospital.  So what did I do? I cancelled the much anticipated solo trip I have been looking forward to for months to visit a dear friend and planted by butt down so that I could continue to assess her.  Richard tried to encourage me to go, that they could manage it. But after pointing out that it has been on me to care for her around the clock, it would be hard to have him make the judgement call.  He works fulltime, away from the kids for 9 hrs. I live the whole primary caretaker role day in and out, even when there isn’t a sick kid (and he is one of the most hands on dads I know, there is just so much that goes into caring for her).  And by the way, I am so incredibly thankful for my husband’s job that provides me this opportunity to be home, because we both said recently “it would be impossible for me to work outside the home, fulltime, because of the curve balls CF throws”.

Our family’s lives literally stopped and immediately went into crisis prevention mode the last 18 days.  Nonessential activities were cut, family members picking up the slack around the house or watching the naughty 2 yr old became the norm.  We all found the weak areas that our personal strengths could manage and we tackled them. There was constant encouragement from her cheerleaders to do her vest when they saw the defeat rise in me (knowing I was having these battles on my own while they were at school or work).  I was encouraged many times to just go sit in my room by myself and breathe.

You want to know what was amazing to me.  You would think that as one person’s daily life became the sole priority of a family day after day, you would have seen jealousy, resentment or frustration…

Yet I watched the siblings come home from school and get her therapies going, I heard the usually obnoxious brother invite her to play minecraft with him, I witnessed countless games of phase 10 played with Kyre and her gracefully handle being slaughtered each round, even though she is the most competitive on of us all.  I saw the babies snuggle up to ezzy as she has lived a better portion of her time on the couch doing treatments and just resting from her body fighting the infections. No tears were shed about feeling neglected, everyone has been so focused on getting her healthy.

A friend recently said “wow, that is just amazing, how all of those extra demands being placed on your family and you still can see that they feel loved and secure, while Ezzy is getting all the attention”.

I needed that realization.  I needed someone to snap their fingers.  I needed to see that God was/is carrying our family even if in the darkest moments of the battlefield of the mind, I can’t grip that truth.

Her team today said that because her lung function test came back good and her culture showed no new bugs growing in her lungs, that she can go to school this week.  ½ days only. They said the risk of being exposed to other stuff is not enough to keep her back and continue to impact her quality of life. She has had it being home, she has had it coughing and told us she is “so tired of coughing all the time”.  They are starting her on a steroid to see if it can help address this wet cough that won’t go away. We are still in the unknown. I have to call her team on thursday to let them know if we have seen any changes, the possibility of a hospital admit is looming over our heads, which is a whole other giant for our family to battle.

I do truly believe that she has been carried by many and brought straight to God as others plead and intercede to God our Father.  To those of you who have sent me encouraging words, provided dinner for our family, told me they are praying, texted asking updates on her, assured me they have prayer circles praying, and those that have asked me how I am doing. THANK YOU.  The most believable lie the enemy of my heart wants me to believe is that God has forgotten Ezzy and he doesn’t care and that we are all alone in this battle.

So tomorrow as my warrior crosses your heart, I am going to ask you to pray specifically for her as she goes to school, out of the safe bubble we created for her 18 days ago.  Pray that the doctors continue to have discernment for her care and that the steroids will loosen up this cough that has her worn out.

I heard a sermon from a friend today and he said “we have to trust God and not our circumstances”.  So that is what I am going to choose to do, even if it feels like groundhogs day, I am going to stop asking “God what are you doing” and instead ask him “God can you show me where you are in this”.  It has been mentally, physically, emotionally and down right draining the last 18 days. I am not perfect and I definitely don’t have this life of faith thing perfected, but I have to share that I even in the valley, I am becoming aware that he IS there and has NOT forgotten my girl.  

More than anything he recently told me, “sarah, she’s not yours, she’s mine”.

Here’s to day 19 and what God has planned for miracle girl that is always teaching me that a faith isn’t faith until it is tested.

Some memories feel like they were lifetimes ago, then there are the memories that feel like they just happened seconds ago.  It’s always been this way with Ezrah. I fought postpartum fog like a champion, making sure to lock in everything my exhausted brain could hold to ensure that her life would be remembered.  I think it’s been a blessing for me. Even though the circumstances have not been what I would have ever desired for her story. When I remember all that has happened in her 9 years of life, I can’t help but testify to the goodness, faithfulness and the never changing presence of God in her life.  He has always been there.

I have watched over this last year a little girl who is vastly approaching tween years.  Is it just me or are girls growing up faster than ever?!? Even in all our attempts to shelter her from a world that craves and demands girls to grow up and become things that can be used and abused, tossed and moved on to the next thing, I still see the influence the world has.  In my frustrating moments of motherhood, when her tears are flowing because of mean girls at school, awful boys commenting about her body or better yet dealing with whatever life sized emotion she is experiencing, in it all, I am thankful I have the chance to work through those things with her.

Ezrah experiences everything with all that she has.  She doesn’t go into a new situation with caution, she doesn’t gently dip her toes in, she doesn’t wait to see other’s hesitations.  Nope, if she wants to do something, she runs straight towards it with abandon.

Ezrah May, in all of her limitations, all of her detours she has to take daily to just live a normal life like her peers, has decided to take it all in, the good and the bad.

This realization is actually incredibly healthy for me to take in right now.  Because when you have a child that sees the world as an open book, with empty pages, ready to be filled in…you have to make sure to not taint those pages with your own fears and worries.

Her strength is the very thing I prayed for, it’s the very thing that doesn’t allow fear to hold her back.  To not dwell on the hurts that happen when CF holds her back from doing what she wants to do.

I watched her recently light up when we shared a meal with 2 friends during our medical travel.  It was unexpected and just what her old soul in a tiny little body needed to have. She got to sit and talk with a highschooler, who by the way is as sweet as they come.  She sat there and answered all the burning questions a brave little 9 yr old could fathom while she sat across from the person she saw as the wealth of information on the world.  It was precious. It allowed Ezzy to dwell on other things then the looming day ahead of appointments in a tiny little room.

Traveling for medical appointments is hard.  It causing stress on all parties involved, the ones that go and the ones that stay behind.  If I am the one chosen to take her, then I try my best to make it fun. To set some extra spending money aside so that a little spoiling can happen.  I try to fill the day and hours leading up to her appointment busy and light, because I have learned that those 6 hours of seeing specialists, getting poked, having a massive Q-tip shoved down her throat, her body examined and being asked a list of questions can be too much for her.  I watch the anxiety rise, but instead of her acting it out, she stuffs it. She holds it in. Not willing to show her cards. Her big eyes watch the door and she braces when she hears it open, I see her process “oh it’s that person, so this is what is going to happen…”. She doesn’t talk about her feelings.  She draws, she lets herself get lost. It’s how she has managed to walk this journey. It’s how she is growing up, seeing the world differently.

In all that, I guess what I am trying to say is that in all the things we have had to adapt to, due to CF, I am so thankful that she has is having normal growing pains.  There will always be mean girls and I will talk to her about them until I am blue in the face, because let’s face it, they never go away, even in adulthood, am I right? I will listen to her break down in tears over the stupid boy who can’t help but pick on her because he doesn’t have the skills or awareness to address his own feelings, because in a few years those tears will be different tears, over a stupid boy.  I will concede to her daddy, the little girl whisperer, when her emotions are bigger than my adult body and thank the Lord he gave him to us, because in it all, Ezzy is having a chance to experience life like any other 9 year old girl.

I am thankful that she hasn’t let the hard parts of her story overshadow the parts that are shining right now.  She may be growing up in a broken world that wants her to fit into a box because of her gender, that wants to put unreasonable expectations on her, that wants to exploit her innocence, that wants her to be a slave to comparison and question her self worth.  But let me tell you about my girl. She won’t be anyone’s pawn. She won’t bend just because she is told to. She won’t compromise because you want her too.

And for that, for all that is part of her story, I am thankful.  Because the world needs strong women in it. Women who aren’t dictated by their fears, worries, or concerns.  Women who aren’t held back because of another’s opinion about them. The world needs more courageous women who look at their story and don’t wallow in self pity, but instead smile and say “that won’t break me, just watch”.

Today Ezrah May is 9 years old.  She has one of the best senses of humor in our family.  She is so witty. She sees the world differently and in return can read you faster than anything, so don’t try and hide your story from her, be honest with her, tell her where you are at, you will be surprised how much she already knew.  She loves fiercely, but needs you to show vulnerability in feelings, because she has spent 9 years stuffing vulnerability… If you tell her she can’t, she will prove to you she CAN. Her memory is one for the books, so don’t think you can get away with anything.  She dreams of being an illustrator and author one day. She can’t wait to be a teenager so she can have her own phone. She talks about college and looks me straight in the eyes every single time, because she NEEDS me to know she is going.  I watched her be the smallest one on the court and she never once let that define her ability to play ball! 

Happy birthday to my miracle baby!!!

“Oh her freckles…she is so beautiful!”

I have gotten so use to people commenting on the little army of spots across the bridge of her nose and cheeks that it doesn’t phase me anymore, even when it’s a stranger.

I have watched her quiet demeanor be something that attracts attention from only the most attentive people.  She doesn’t walk in a room and command it.  She doesn’t make sure that she is the loudest voice to be heard.  She doesn’t expect to lead the group of people she is around.  She would much rather stay in the background, observing.

I have shared before in past birthday blogs on how life with a big family, being smack in the middle or having an older sister with a fatal disease has naturally stolen any chances of having the spotlight.  But I have watched in these years to see how all those things are developing her character and helping her see the world with empathy.

Dinner preparations will be at the height of chaos, with little sisters “quietly” playing at my feet with cooking utensils, my face is most likely making a frustrated scrunchy face while I attempt to carefully read the newest grainfree/dairyfree/sugarfree meal.  That is when she decides to make her entrance in the kitchen after a long day at school.  To her its finally quiet enough to garner my full attention.  Her older brother and sister have hammered their rounds at the day at mom and looked past her divided attention, so now its her turn.

What I have found if I don’t quickly change the look on my face or for goodness sake just put the preparation on hold, her response will be “oh, I can see you are busy, I will come back later”.  Yet, I am finding, rarely she does.  Rarely she comes back, eagerly telling me her day.

The last few months of my life have been immersed in a brand new way of thinking.  I have been blessed to be a new student in the soul formation academy.  It has challenged every part of my being and how I see God, but also how my soul has been shaped through my environment and more importantly, how do I get it in line with the heart of our heavenly Father.

I am thankful for the opportunity to change my thinking and acting patterns.  Kyrene Grace is definitely a benefactor.

If I can’t pause dinner, due to the countless activities we have going on every night of the week, I will come to her, I will find her in her safe tucked away space in the house, decompressing the day of people in her face nonstop.  I will sit with her and ask “ok kyre grace, what did you want to tell me about school?”.  I will sit next to her on the couch while there is loud chaos going on in the kitchen with dad and the older siblings, the littles racing down the hallway, I will gently probe her with questions that will help me understand what is going on in her mind that keeps her not always present with us.

She is always thinking.  She is always processing.  She is always watching the world around her.

Recently she sauntered up next tome, it actually made me think of the way a cat would come to their owner that finally came home after hours of being away, only to wait a good 30 mins to show affection because they didn’t want their owner to think they “needed” them.  She tucked into my side and said “momma, do you know I am a missionary?”  Eyes twinkling on a bed of freckles, smile spread across her face so that her dimples sink in farther, assurance and joy wrapping the statement she just made.

Kyrene Grace Harney, has it already woven in her soul that she has the gift and the world needs it.  She has found that she is loved and enough in the eyes of the one who knit her together in my womb and she wants everyone to feel that same way.  She told me that she tells her classmates about Jesus, that he loves them and she asks them to come to church with her.

When walmart was all out of costumes and the normal, make them ourselves wasn’t an option, she ended up coming home with a witch costume.  Without me scolding her daddy, something they all knew I was capable of doing, she walked right up to me and said “I told Jesus, I still love him the most”.  Her conviction is endearing.

I find it so amazing that the child I questioned the Lord the most with “why?” would be the child that I have heard him tell me, “don’t hold on to tightly to her, I have a big call on her life, you need to trust me”.  Interesting, right? Given the diagnosis of her sister.  Yet God in his providence is preparing me for the work that he has for her to do and my heart for letting her go and do it one day, work that is probably going to scare this momma’s heart.

Today, my little missionary turns 7.  Today she gets to go and spend it with her best friend.  We are going to have a fancy lunch at a restaurant, play at the toy store, get frojo and later open presents with her family that is always learning how to love her in ways that she needs the most, even if she fails at times to tell us how in her little 7 year old ways.

Kyrene Grace, you are 7 years old today.  Thanks for reminding me that everyone needs to be loved uniquely, that they deserve it.  Thank you for reminding me that God loves to show his glory in people that don’t fit the mold.  Thank you for loving others that the world deems unworthy, I am touched by every single teacher you have had telling me that you are partnered with the challenging kids because of your consistent patience with them.  Thank you for your sneaky smiles that always catch me off guard and turn my hard days around.

Happy birthday Gracie

There is something about when you get a chance to tell your love story…

Am I right?

Colors, outfits you wore, smells, deeply rooted feelings that may or may not make their appearance often come pouring out.

Over a recent meal shared with another couple, the chance to walk down memory lane came.  We were actively trying to get to know this couple, welcoming them to our church family and just be Richard and Sarah, nothing else, no show, just us.

Richard, in his best attempts gave his immensely short version of our story.  I couldn’t help but intrude on his memory. He was leaving out the best part.

So there I was unashamedly telling my side and sharing the details that he so quickly glossed over or failed to bring up.

You see, because of one person’s bold choice, our love story continued, even though it should have ended in August of 2004.

I was done, just done.

His childish lifestyle with his brother and their friends had reached a capacity that I no longer could tolerate.  They were more interested in planning their classes, lives, work schedules and weekends around things that were leading nowhere.  

I on the other hand was faced with the alarming reality that nursing school was not going to be part of my story (the lowest GPA they accepted the year I applied was a 4.0).  I was sitting at a 3.8 and had no hope of pursuing a calling I thought was my destiny.

Failure, defeat, dreams crushed and a relationship that seemed to be going nowhere led me to make a uncharacteristic choice.  I decided to leave the small private school I was attending, near my boyfriend and move far away, to a place where the sun shined everyday.  In the deepest parts of my soul, I believed this was how I was going to make a clean break. He wouldn’t have the gumption to follow me, he was too content not growing up and making choices that didn’t say to me that our future mattered.  I really believed that was the end to our rollercoaster relationship the last 4 years.

Little did I know…

October 2004, the same month that we started dating in 2000, he asked me to marry him.  

How did we get there from where I said we were heading?

In those months of self realization as well as the wake up call that he had been given, he began to change.  A good paying job, saving account to build, breaking away from his youthful surroundings began to be his norm.

Even in the weeks leading up to our marriage, heck even our wedding day, I had people fully questioning the decision I was making.  They couldn’t let go of the Richard they had watched “grow up” and not really change. I saw something. They couldn’t yet see it, but I saw something change for him.  

Flash forward to October 31, 2018.  We had our first date, on this day, 18 yrs ago.

18 yrs ago.

Somehow, we managed to convince my mom to take the kids for us earlier this month.  We ran away for 6 days. When my favorite uncle found out, he asked us “what do you think you will do with yourselves for 6 days without the kids to bother you?”. Richard and I nervously laughed, knowing that we knew full well that we didn’t have a clue what it would be like. All we have known for the majority of our relationship is a love story woven in with 5 little lives.

He then told us, “you will either be running back home because you missed the kids too much or you will not want to come back because you had too much fun without them, lets hope its the latter”.

You want to know the truth?

We didn’t want to board that plane home.  We didn’t want to pack up and leave the little sanctuary we had lived in for the last 6 days.  Free of responsibilities, free of meals to make, bottoms to wipe, fights to referee, life lessons to teach, discussions on who’s turn it is to deal with whatever bomb just went off or speaking in fragmented sentences. We missed their little faces and wanted to squeeze them for a few minutes, but we would have turned right back around to be alone again in a heart beat.

6 days of hand holding, exploring new places, eating ridiculously good food, going to a concert, getting tattoos, connecting and yes at times, just sitting in silence with each other.  I don’t know if you could have pried us off each other, we were in constant contact with each other.

we couldn’t get enough of it.

That thing that drove me to walk down the aisle, down the aisle to a broken soul that had yet met Jesus, had yet to show me what he was really made of under deep soul crushing circumstances, had yet to transform into the God fearing man he is today, the thing that no one else could see was what led me.

He was the echo to the cavern of my heart, a heart that was fiercely cautious and unwilling to give it over freely to anyone. My self preservation didn’t scare him off and I knew that if he could see past all that walls I had built and still want me, there was something in him that I needed.

I have witnessed marriages struggle, break and not repair, because both partners in the equation forgot to put each other first. Somewhere in between raising the kids and dealing with life, they forgot to ask their best friend to come along with them, they forgot to come running home and tell each other about their day, just like they did in the early dating years, where they would share every detail with each other. They forgot to make each other the most important part of their day.

Many kind people have told richard and I to be careful, be on guard for the coma that the enemy wants to put marriages in.

To be honest it is the thing that we have agreed since day one that we would be vigilant about.

Without any chances to experience what it would be like without kids for the last 11 yrs, we never knew if there were cracks forming, we were unaware if we were letting our marriage dance with the looming chance of forgetting each other in the chaos of the Harney 7.

It is with joy and encouragement to anyone who takes the time to read this (lets be honest the blogging world is starting to die as people’s patience to sit and focus on one thing for more than a few seconds or even minutes is where we as a society are at), its my hope that you and your spouse in the midst of the hard years, say no to the world’s desire for you to hook up to the anesthesia and sleep your way through your marriage.

It hasn’t been easy.  We had many chances in the last 18 yrs to say “peace out”.  We had opportunities to say, “this crap is too scary or hurts to deep, so I am just going to cut my ties with you and find someone else”.  We had to physically say to each other “I don’t care what you say, I am not going anywhere, I would never break your trust no matter how much your fears tell you I would”.

By the grace of God, I am blessed to say he is my best friend.  There is no other person on the earth that I would want to spend every single moment with.  No other person I would want to see me at my lowest and weakest points of my soul and to celebrate the victories or highes that come as I learn what it means to be me.

6 days wasn’t enough.  But it was long enough for me to see that we are going to be just fine when the last little harney flies the coop.  Enough for me to dream about what it will be like when it’s just me and him. Back to the basics.

If you haven’t had the time to get away with your spouse…btw it took us 12.5 yrs to finally have a honeymoon, 11 yrs since having kids to go away with each other, so no judgement .  I would encourage you to find a way to break away. Go stay the night at the hotel, ask for someone to watch your kids for a full 24 hrs. So you can enjoy 3 complete meals, go to bed, rise with just each other.  

Go have your health screen check, don’t fall asleep.  Your marriage is the most important human relationship you will EVER have on this earth.  

Where is your love story at right now?  How do you want it to end? What are you doing to make sure it has the ending you hope for?

18 years later and he still makes my heart beat faster when our eyes lock in a crowded room…

As I held her close to my chest this morning, locking eyes with her, letting her read me and all the things going through my mind, I recalled the day I first met her.

The sharp pain that woke my exhausted body, caused me to drag my swollen pregnant body to the gym, to ensure that the gestational diabetes that had become my normal would not jeopardize her health. I could barely get through my two mile walk. The pains were regular, I was timing them, slowly embracing that she would soon be in my arms. Even though a quick grocery store trip had to happen, I somehow managed to push the cart up and down, grabbing the items that would be needed by my mom and kids while I was in the hospital. I knew it was D day.

Laboring at home, something I wanted to experience like I had with Ya’el was my goal. What I found was that its alot harder to labor at home with little ones. Especially a 2 yr old that just wanted to be held and couldn’t understand why sitting still snuggling her was something I could not do.

When I walked into the hospital, with a calm yet nervous husband, I forced myself to find balance between being present and also going into the sacred mental space every laboring mother has to find. I wanted to remember the shine of the waxed floors, the smell of the coffee that had being brewing too long. I didn’t want to forget the yellow strip that would hold the heart monitor around my belly. I made sure to glance at the empty bassinet and accept that I would never see another newborn Harney baby in there after that day.

Knowing and coming to grips with the fact that Veil Eden is the last baby I will ever grow has been a beautiful dance my heart has experienced.

Every milestone has been treasured deep within in my soul. They aren’t recorded in a baby book, like the rest of them. I learned after Ya’el that baby books with a family of more than 2 kids was unrealistic. I may not have a paper trail to give her one day, but I can tell you that I imprinted so many of her 1sts in my soul. Colors, smells, weather, who was around all filed away in my mental camera. I pray that she will understand and accept the words I write each year on her birthday.

Veil Eden has shown me yet again how spiritual of beings we are.

There is this quote in a movie I loved watching in high school, college or days when I had a crappy day, that use to make my husband roll his eyes at.

“That doesn’t even make sense” is always what he use to say.

Yet it always made sense to me. The longing, the empty cavern needing to be filled, the ache to be in relationship. All of that I experience with my heavenly Father, God. I long for Heaven, for eternity with my King Jesus, I long to experience sitting in the throne room of God and having every weight of the world stripped from the fear, pain, hurts I carried. Yet I have never physically met Him.

This best describes how I felt the moment I learned about Veil Eden. I see it in the way people have made space in their heart for her, knowing she needs to be in there, tucked in safely.

I have heard from countless people about her gentle demeanor. How they would just sit and wait for her flip a switch and turn into the at times “demon possessed” toddler they expected. But majority to this day still says “she is just the sweetest thing”.

And it’s true.

Veil Eden makes sure to say good morning to everyone the moment her feet hit the ground. She runs to the couch, calls each family member by name and says “hi”. If mom is running late from the gym or taking too long in the shower, she will patiently sit with the sibling who won the battle to get her morning snuggles.

She sings, especially if momma or Ya’el are belting out one of their favorite songs. Missing out on raising her voice in song is something she won’t let happen. If kyre is lost in a song, moving her body and flowing the way that only she can, she rushes to her side to learn a crash course in creative dance.

Even though her demeanor has been gentle, patient and quite frankly peaceful, she still has been particular about who she has let into her trusted circle. But once you pass the mark, boy watch out, she has your number and will walk right up to you and raise her arms to be picked up.

As we are nearing her 2nd birthday, it comes with another delicate dance between joy and sadness. I have successfully fed her for 2 years, from my body. The longest stretch for me, something that I didn’t achieve with the older ones. I am ready for her to grow up, yet I have cherished holding her, nursing her whenever she wanted “num nums” and choosing to stay present for my caboose baby.

As upcoming travel requires her and I to be seperated for multiple days, now is the time to begin the final days or possible week (s) of our journey as nursing child and momma.

It’s crazy to me how many times I thought that I had had my “last” baby. How I experienced a bonus baby 3x now. Each one showing me that we actually were missing a puzzle piece to our unit. I would daydream, pray and wrestle with how this bonus baby would fit into the chaos of a family that wasn’t prepared for them.

Yet if I had to be honest with you, Veil Eden never was a “lets hope we have room for her”. Instead from the moment we learned about Veil, weeks before I was traveling to run a half. Both Richard and I knew we needed her. That deep down there was a longing, a desire to be woven together to another soul. We had just been denying it, thinking we couldn’t make space for a 5th child.

Today we get to celebrate another year of having her in our lives. Another year of holding her when life gets to much and fighting over who gets her snuggles that bring immediate peace to the restless soul holding her. Today we get to thank God for always being a good Father and giving us what we NEED, not what we think we need. Today we get to welcome our caboose into the toddler years, saying goodbye to last Harney infant stage, but we get to do it with great joy.

Veil Eden, we love you so much. We don’t know why God thought we deserved you, but you really are the completion of our story. You have helped us see God’s goodness and favor in so many ways. How you love, how you comfort those who need you, how you read people so closely and are always watching and assessing the mental health of your family amazes me. I pray that you will always gently pry past the facades and masks people wear and instead take the time that you do to truly know a person’s heart. I can’t wait to see why God was so persistent in creating you and blessing this earth with your gentle soul.

Happy 2nd birthday sweet bean

There is something about your mid 30s.

The number never use to worry me, I always believed in my soul that aging wouldn’t be something that I feared. That it would be something that I would embrace, each grey strand found in my hair, each extra crease found in my skin would mean that I was still alive, still going after life.

The fear that came around “the 30s”. Happened when we stood with Dr. Death, as he gave us the cliff note version of Cystic Fibrosis. We were standing on opposite sides of Ezzy’s hospital bed. I had just celebrated her very first feeding from my body, something that the doctors said I would never experience. “Lucky to reach her 30s”, that rang through my head and continued to haunt me as I aged.

Aging became something that I mourned. Feeling guilty that I was experiencing something that specialists told me would be a miracle for her to experience.

I will admit, it forced me to go down the crazy train in my late 20s. I was 26 when I was given that picture of no hope of aging for my newborn baby girl.

The performer, the perfectionist, the achiever in me when into autopilot. Something that God had broken in me just a few years prior.

If I couldn’t control my baby’s future, then I was going to do everything I could to control my daily life and its surroundings.

I started running half marathons. I strived, I trained, I reached goals, never ever feeling enough though.

I put distance between myself and friends. If they were achieving things that I wished I could, then I put up walls. If they weren’t daily dealing with the prospect of losing a child (which none of them were) then I couldn’t handle being around them and their healthy kids. I couldn’t handle feeling like a failure in their presence. I was a slave to comparison. Denying that somewhere deep down, they were doing the same.

Compare. Strive. Compete. Perfect. Perform. Achieve.

ON REPEAT. EVERY DAY.

Then something happened in my 30s.

I somehow in my mess of trying to figure myself out, found myself smack dab in the most beautiful village. A village of fierce woman, who in their failures and success, carved a space for a broken hurt soul. They love me. In ALL MY STUFF.

Today I turn 34.

The other day my husband lingered too long as he hugged me goodbye for work. I looked up at him and asked him what he was doing. His reply, “counting your grey hair”…

Today I woke up to my workout alarm, set for 5:14 am, like it is every M-F. But today I turned it off, grabbed my face mask and told myself, “its ok, go back to sleep, you have nothing to prove”. This summer, unlike the last 7 summers, I haven’t even reached my usual miles. I am slower then I was when I first started training for halfs. I put on a few extra pounds this summer too. Why? Because I was too busy staying up late with my husband having late night couch dates, because I hit the dismiss button too many mornings. Because I enjoyed way to many good meals with friends and family. Because I am learning that this is the only body God gave me and I need to thank him, by not depriving it.

I opened presents that made tears form, tight hugs to be given and honestly they just made my heart explode.

And because the husband couldn’t leave me out of getting my age in pancakes 😂

I now drink the same tea my mom drank as she was raising us in her 30s, and yes I am so excited to get my own collection of ceramic figurines I remember playing with as a child 😂

34 its going to be a good year. I am not going to fear age any longer. Aging has brought wisdom, discernment, an amazing village, deeper love for my spouse, awareness of higher callings, peace and contentment. I am not afraid of growing old. I don’t know the future for my baby girl that isn’t promised these years, but I hope that as she embraces her journey and sees a mother that isn’t bound by fears, but instead one that is embracing life as it comes.

I stood, scrolling through the list of podcast titles, asking the Lord to show me what I needed to hear before I started a journey that I knew would stretch me and ask more of me than I would be able to handle well. I found it and prayed that God would help me surrender the things that were weighing me down. A long run was in order. Why? Because I would soon be surrounded by 85 people for 5 days in close quarters. I would not be able to disappear, be left alone with my thoughts or better yet find ways to quiet my soul the way I am use to. Life at Orton Ranch is rugged, if you were to ask me. Others like to point out that we are using running water and have beds to sleep in, but if I can’t take a shower daily, have to worry about mice getting into my food or have to listen for the bell ringing to warn of a bear on the grounds, then that my friends is called rugged in my book.

I was challenged on my run to look at my “why”. I have listened to this podcast many times, I have pushed play on this very title more then 2x. What I didn’t realize was that I could find another reason to apply this message to my current situation.

I came back feeling accomplished and ready to tackle what lied ahead, even though I heard from the Lord some things to consider, I was still unsure of my exact “why” for camp.

We spent the rest of our morning grabbing last minute things and loaded up anxious little bodies that could not wait to go back to a place they had been dreaming and counting the days down for. Orton Ranch has carved a special place in the Harney family.

The boat ride, 2.5 mile hike into camp with 22 kids went so much smoother then it did the year prior. There were no injuries, no bags to haul that couldn’t be carried by their tiny little owners, no suitcases with broken wheels to schlep over the hump over and over again. The biggest struggle we faced was a bound and determined 4 yr old that insisted to hike the WHOLE way on her own and let everyone know on the trail, as well as any living forest creatures that she did not appreciate any help. Even though it was so hot, we still found fun along the way and Richard realized the best way to keep Veil from whining was to break branches of blueberries and give them to her.

I won’t ever forget the feeling I had when I first saw Orton ranch last year, Ezzy asked if it was what the garden of Eden looked like. I wondered if I would find the same feeling, the breath slightly held, the quickening of the heart at the view and the joy of seeing everyone there waiting for us.

Orton did not disappoint yet again. It was hard to no want to run when the trees parted and the lush green lawn full of kids running and playing was finally in eyesight.

Our 1st evening at camp was surreal. It is honestly such a blur. We were the last group to hike in, which meant we didn’t get there until an hour before dinner. After arriving, we had to set up our gear and get ready for our first night of the bible lesson. Kids were anxious to find out who their group members were and the counselors quickly had to start learning names and establish trust so that they could try and break through whatever background, family situation, stage of faith their kids were going through.

Everyone welcomed their beds that night and I believe, felt that the first day went better than expected.

Little did the camp know that we would find ourselves woken to a naughty group of boys that decided to get up before 5 am, waking their entire cabin. Thanks to coach Harney, he showed them what life would be like if it happened again. Sprints, kalasetics, and drills were being ordered as they moved their anxious bodies across the green lawn.

The group Bible lessons were amazing. I had the privilege to lead the kids in worship, teach new songs and watch them as they digested what they were taught. It was really cool to see the lights come on for some of the kids who were hearing for the first time that Jesus rescues, saves, holds on to them when they are facing big things. I myself was in awe of the kids’ hearts and perceptions about the things they worry about. It was an eye opening experience.

Even though I was on little Harney duty, I still managed to get to know the campers, not in the same way as their counselors, but atleast enough to know each of them by name and be able to have conversations with them at meals, during elective time or anytime I was walking around the grounds, making sure Ya’el and her independent spirit was staying safe or Veil and her inquisitive mind didn’t let her wander to far.

I am not going to lie, it is down right exhausting trying to make sure that a 4 and almost 2 yr old stay safe, when there is a flowing river and nonstop bear visits. The only time I was able to let my guard fully down was when they were safely tucked in their beds at 10 pm each night and by that point I was too exhausted to hang with the other adults that needed to unwind by the fire each night.

I waited, still wondering if God was going to reveal my “why” for camp. Unsure if I was going to be able to seperate my head from my heart.

Then it happened.

I was sitting by the river banks, baby in my lap, 4 yr old being loved on by one of the many hands that willingly took a little Harney. I was sitting with a dear friend and the Lord told me to share what I had realized, to share how God had brought me through something. With tears in my eyes, I shared, deeply shared where I had been and where I was now. I was engulfed in a hug and was received. It couldn’t be denied the healing had come.

My “why”: healing.

I had settled for that to be the “why”, that we needed to talk about the past and see how far God had brought us to the now. I didn’t think there was going to be anymore big ah ha moments.

Oh ye of little faith, Sarah.

The very last day of camp, we found ourselves faced with a fever ridden puking camper. When you have 85 people crammed together, you know without a doubt how impossible it is to keep that from spreading. In passing a staff member said, “we need to pray over this camp”. When I found a group of willing adults, I gathered them around and we prayed that any attempts of the enemy to mess with the last day would not prevail. Unable to find the person who had suggested praying, I made up my mind to track them down and let them know a group had prayed. When I did find the person, I learned they had gone on their own and walked through the camp and dorms praying over each person and interceding for God’s divine protection.

Not a single person was hit with a puking bug. There were a few upset tummies that lasted for part of the day, but nothing else.

My “why”, yet again, was to witness: healing

Our last night, after tucking in kids from their “rave” at the campfire well past the normal bedtime had me wanting to spend time with the other staff. Thanks to my dear friend, I was gifted a 2 hr nap and finally felt like I could hang out with the rest of the adults and have some adult conversations not being interrupted by 2 busy little ladies.

A fall down the stairs ended with me crawling back up the stairs and elevating the ankle that I heard rip…I going to have PTSD from that sound for a while.

The medic had gone to bed, richard was finishing the devotions with his group and I was silenting crying inside. How was I going to hike out? I am not going to be able to walk for days, ran through my mind. This injury was not new to me. I knew it was not going to be pretty.

Thanks to a quick thinking person, I had my ankle wrapped up in a frozen bag of cheese. As I waited for my husband to show up, I was anointed with oil and prayed over by a bunch of teenagers. Hands were laid over my ankle, intercession for my health was made, tender hearts were talking to our Abba Father, for me…I don’t think that moment will ever leave my memories.

Being the person that I am that struggles to fully trust God, I was wavering with thoughts that I would really be ok the next morning. It was then that a very perceptive youth, who had the audacity to call me their elder just minutes before, challenged me. They said, “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow when you get up, because you are going to be healed”, I must have flashed a quick look the revealed my wavering faith, because they then said, “faith like a mustard seed Sarah, you just have to believe”.

Wow…

Very early the next morning, I woke to a stiff throbbing ankle. I repented and told the Lord, “I want to believe Lord, so I am choosing to believe”. I went back to bed and waited for the camp to wake up. The true test was going to be when I placed pressure on my foot. I readied myself to have to quickly grab something due to the lack of being able to bare weight on my foot. I however was met with strength. The swelling and massive bruising that should have been there, was barely noticable. I walked out of my room in awe and found the youth that had challenged me the night before. We praised God and I thanked them for challenging me.

My “why” yet again: healing.

There were many other wonderful experiences, conversations that breathed life into me, and times that I found the surrealness of Orton Ranch take me over.

Ya’el intently listened to the bible lessons and shared her heart with the counselor that let her tag along with their group.

Ezzy didn’t miss a single vest treatment, yet again thanks to her brother who ran a half marathon to get her a generator.

Kyre found her identity outside of the shadow of her sister and faced her fear of water!

Cayden had a learning lesson that provided other strong faith believing adults speak into his life.

Veil got to be loved and snuggled by many different mommas that had loving arms and hearts to receive her endless need to be held and loved on, plus she was the only one to get a bath out of 85 people.

Richard was able to serve alongside a friend that he has needed in his life, one that has been a brother to him as they have walked growing in the Lord.

Kayaking the whole way out and going down the ramp was a new experience that I can’t wait to do again.

Watching a friend, who had told me their desire a year ago while standing on the front porch of the main house, enter the waters of baptism was really special. To see someone follow through, to grow more in their faith and to be a testimony to so many others over the year, it was inspiring. To know they met God deeply in a way that only Orton Ranch could do a year ago, it made me realize what this place does to souls.

It is a place of healing.

I am home, have had 2 hot showers, there is more laundry than any sane person would want to do, I am preparing my family to detox off the sodium, beef and simple carbs they ate non stop, I slept in my own pillow top bed and have avoided jumping in to quickly to normal life here.

I don’t want to forget what happened. I don’t want to fall to quickly into the rhythms that can water my faith down, I don’t want to fill up on things that leave me wanting to retreat, because I let them hold too much power over me.

Believe it or not, my heart is already longing to go back. Back to the place that God designed long ago to shine his light over and bring healing to many souls.

Orton Ranch, my “why”: healing

“Momma calls me Miss Bossy Pants”

This was shared with me as I was given the run down of spending the day with my soon to be 4 yr old. I was also informed that even though she was invited to have breakfast with papa and Grandma G, she however managed to debate her way through getting an ice cream cone at 9 am 🙄

In her short 4 yrs of life, one thing that has remained consistent is the fact she has always known what she wants and has never felt stifled in sharing her opinion. Many sundays she walks down the hallway of church with such authority, as if she has an important meeting to head too, but in reality she is trying to find a willing sibling to come and play whatever game she has decided must be played during Momma’s worship practice.

Even though she is so certain in her beliefs, I still for some reason think she might throw a curve ball from time to time. As Kyre’s gala drew nearer, I was preparing myself for a little sister to be so enthralled with ballet and a case to plead for her future involvement. I spent many mid mornings, doing chores or tackling work from home, watching shows she would put on with Veil, complete with ballet shoes and ballerina attire. The day came to watch her big sister on the stage. I was ready to hear it. The show ended and she turned to me and said “I still want to be a karate girl”, as she slid off the seat and was ready to go and congratulate her sister. As if she had read my mind, without missing a single beat.

This is life with Boo.

She likes to talk about emotions, they aren’t scary to her or something to hide, she wants them out on the table and to process them with you. She wants inside your head if there is any silence that lingers too long for her super busy brain. Her persistence to get an answer is the strongest I have dealt with in the years of raising 5 Harney babies. Her siblings would either pick up that I was consumed with something and hold their thought until I was free or would just find someone else to pester with their question.

Not Ya’el.

She will stand there, hand on her hip, eyes piercing through my brain fog as I attempt to manage all the things on my life. No response just makes her volume increase, “yes or no momma, yes or no”.

I managed to just get roped into carrying her train with clear instructions to use both hands, after being corned in my bedroom putting away clean clothes. Delighting tasks is an art form for her.

There are days I wish I had the courage to be more like my 4 yr old.

Not afraid to ask hard questions when people are being aloof, able to pierce through the societal norms of letting people just be distant and instead leaning in, striving to make connection. I wish I always knew what I wanted and was able to give up my incessant need to waiver back and forth, but instead own it and follow through with it. I also wish that my strength when it climbs out of its neatly tucked away box, would be something others willingly following because it’s so clear that I am suppose to lead, rather then walking on egg shells trying to harness my strength to not come off so “intimidating”.

Ya’el Ariel Ruth owns who she is.

I am excited to watch this little pint size boss grow and continue to hone her innate skills that God so clearly knit within her.

The world needs more girls and women, sure of themselves. Feet firmly planted in their beliefs, not able to be knocked over by the unending pressure the world delivers and wants to hold girls and women under its thumb. The world needs more women who will see their strength is a God given blessing that was given with the plan that injustice, darkness and inequality will not prevail against the very thing God has given to his daughters, especially my very own Boo Bear.

Dear Boo Berry,

You are 4 today and I still remembering walking to school with you contently tucked in my womb on the last day of school, past your due date and being the very little soul God intended you to be. Following your own plans and not the others. Your time here in our family has shown me many times, His ways and His plans are higher then mine. You and all your personality that doesn’t fit in your tiny little body has won the hearts of many people. I see the smiles and chuckles as you confidently go about your day. You were given free gifts, extra umbrellas for your drink and told many times how precious you were on the island of Kauai, and proved yet again how magnetic your soul is.

I pray that I run towards your hard questions, I pray that I help you not be afraid of your strength as you grow and others try to diminish it, I pray that in all that you do, you continue to know who and who’s you are.

God’s special treasure.

Happy 4th birthday my rainbow baby. You have the BEST flosser to date 👧🏽💃🏽

Did you hit play on the above link? If you haven’t, please do so. It will make sense as you read my ponderings.

Ok, I am assuming that you have gone back and pushed play since I so kindly asked you to do so, so now I will continue.

It was late one evening, Richard and I were at the tail end of our nightly ritual. Hulu had been well loved and we were nearing the point that our exhausted minds and bodies were about to wave the white flag. I got up, thanks to the commercial break. BTW anyone under the age of 30 has NO clue what an actual commercial break is, am I right? I recall having to spend a minimum of 5-6 minutes while growing up, watching countless sets of commercial breaks for one measly episode of ER or American Idol. To top it off, it was a cartoon commercial. I really dislike cartoons, very few actually hold my attention.

I don’t know if it was the song that caught my attention, but something did. I found myself sit back down (I am sure Richard was trying to figure out what on earth his wife was doing). I watched all the way through and at the end I turned to Richard and said “that was my mom…I don’t know how she did it…sudden singleness, school, bills, loneliness”

Unable to allow this ridiculous commercial leave my mind, here I am writing about it. But I think that it has been following my heart and mind, like a stalker, because of what I have to share. I am sharing early because I am running another 1/2 marathon this weekend.

Mother’s Day is on it’s way. Less then 2 days to be exact. I have heard whisperings from my darlings’ little mouths and even heard a child inform my husband about the looming deadline for gifts to be done. I am patiently awaiting shutterfly to deliver my own contribution to this holiday.

There are so many different directions we can take on Mother’s day. We can honor a mom’s unconditional love, heart, care, gentleness, comfort, her ability to know where every lost item is in the house, even though it doesn’t belong to her, her ability to hold multiple family members’ calendars together, the endless life lesson talks with naughty children (only after she has come out of her own timeout) or we could talk about all the things she does to serve each individual in her family, based off of their own unique needs.

But I can’t this year. Maybe it’s the season I am in myself. I think that is why that commercial had me all overwhelmed with emotions.

This year I want to talk about a mom’s grit.

I was once told I had some grit, which is defined as “passion and perseverance over the long haul” (according to psychologist and researcher Angela Duckworth).

How many of you mother’s could raise your hand right now if I asked you “how many of you feel motherhood is NOT what you thought it would be?”

Now you would have to understand, if I came to a group of women (something that would be incredibly intimidating to me) I would be hoping that I would find open transparency. Because I myself would only ask that question because my soul would be craving for some honest dialogue.

What if I were to take it farther and ask you “what is the greatest struggle you are facing in this season of motherhood”.

I have been incredibly blessed to have some lifegiving conversations with mothers in the last 6 months. Waters parted, children were either not around or I found myself in the twilight zone and was able to converse in FULL sentences that were not interrupted every 2 minutes while my children played quietly.

You know what I have discovered?

Every single mom has GRIT.

Age, seasons of life, number of kids, husband or not, career, etc. All those things develop grit within us.

I have been reading about Jochabed. She was the mother of Moses in the bible. You can find her brief story at the beginning of Exodus 2. Some would think that a woman who only had 11 verses written about her would have little significance, heck her name isn’t even mentioned in the telling of her story. But I was intrigued by her. Here was a mother, who had 2 children and found herself pregnant during a time where Pharaoh had a decree to murder ALL Hebrew baby boys.

Her whole pregnancy was spent, I imagine in pure grief. She had no clue if she was going to be able to raise her child or if her newborn would be murdered the moment the first breath was taken and the gender was revealed.

Her 3rd baby came with a death sentence. Thanks to some brave midwives, she delivered a baby boy and was able to hide him for 3 mos. When she could no longer hide him (um I am still wondering how she kept him quiet for 3 mos). She developed a plan to hide him in a basket. Her next plan was to place him in the Nile River.

This is where the story gets a little wonky for me. I can quickly find myself making judgements about her plan. Create a woven basket, cover it in tar and float my baby down the river?!? What was this lady thinking?

If I am honest, I have done this before, I have judged another mom’s plan to address the current hardship she is facing. Yet if you were to look at decisions I have made, many could go “yeah, that Sarah Harney, she is a little cooky”

Even though I sidetracked with her plan to save her baby. I was compelled to look at this mom. To acknowledge her grit. She was faced with a devastating situation. Her child had a death warrant. There would be no way she could keep it from others. Can you imagine if some embittered mother in her camp found out that her child was spared by midwives, when hers was murdered?

Jochabed hadn’t lost hope. She was resourceful. She fought for her child even though everything was stacked against her.

All I know is that in this season of mothering, I feel like a failure, more than I feel like I am doing a substandard job. The days that seem to come and go faster then I have a chance to digest them are filled with children who stretch me to my limits. They are growing, they are finding out who they are in this world, medical needs can take up the emotional and mental space I have left, I wonder if they feel loved more than I want to.

Jochabed’s baby gets saved by Pharaoh’s daughter who requests for a Hebrew woman to nurse and care for her newfound baby in the river until he is weaned (which meant around 3 yrs of age). Jochabed is paid to care for her baby.

Jochabed’s grit allowed her to raise her baby that should have been killed. Yes she didn’t get to have him past the age of 3, she didn’t get to watch him grow and celebrate birthdays and milestones with him, BUT she got to love and care for him more then her human heart could have hoped for in her current situation.

Why did I just waste 5-10 minutes of your time retelling you a story from the Bible?

Because I really believe I am suppose to encourage you mommas.

There are so many things you are facing in your life right now, honestly a today for a fact, something came crashing at your feet…right? There are fears and anxieties that seem to consume your waking and sleeping moments, hello 2 am worry sessions. Some of you are putting your flag up on a stick and can’t even say its a white flag because its all stained and tattered, just like your life. There are situations that you are standing face to face with and you are wondering how you are going to survive them.

But mommas. I want you to pause and see what you have. Even with all the things faced against you. You are still standing. You are showing signs of sanity, if not your family would have had you commited. You are taking a moment for yourself right now and ignoring the to do list. You are surrendering your children and their issues to God, yes, even your grown children you are continually placing in God’s hands. You are finding another way even though the massive detour you are on looks like a dead in.

“Passion and perseverance over the long haul”.

Whatever your situation is, I want to say thank you for finding a way to pick yourself back up. Thank you for not giving up when it seems impossible. Thank you for raising children who won’t expect others to be perfect and guarded, instead crave for real people, because you have shown them transparency. Thank you for making this world a better place and choosing life when we live in a society that believes in genocide as a woman’s right. Thank you for always pouring out, even when you feel empty, the world needs more selfless people. Thank you for paving the way for other mothers who are looking for a champion to follow. Thank you for placing your HOPE in the lord and trusting that He is the author of your story, especially on the hard days.

Because you, you my friend, have some GRIT.

Happy MOTHER’S day 💐

Thank you to my own mother Barbara, who found her own GRIT and could have been the main character of that commercial. Love you.

Somehow I managed to not plan for today, it’s not the first time I have done this. Mainly because this time frame in the year seems to be at the height of insanity and it is never attended to in the manner I would have loved to devote to. Yet, I am asking myself, better yet chastising myself to get better at this next time.

He doesn’t like cards, doesn’t care for unwanted gifts and definitely doesn’t care for filler gifts. A life of being the sole financial provider for a constantly growing family the last 11 yrs has made it impossible to buy things for him. If it’s a necessity, its worked within the budget, it is discussed with the financial advisor (me) and then it purchased. Buying for himself rarely happens and so it always makes this day the hardest for his family. What do you get a man that has embodied sacrificial love so well? He would give you the shirt off his back if you came to him and said, “hey man, I really need your shirt because…”

Thanks to the big change in my life, going back to work, I have found the balancing act even harder. He is met with a wife that is struggling in learning how to care for a home and family while meeting the deadlines, workloads, and expectations that come with her new job.

I dropped the ball. Nothing was laid out for him this morning, something he has done for me over the years, no heartfelt little hands drew cards, no dinner plans to look forward to (the man loves to eat) thanks to both of us working tonight.

Today has been like any other day.

I wasn’t even sure I was going to write something. Honestly I have phone calls that need to be made now that I have the baby down for a power nap before we go and get siblings from school here in an hour. But as I was wiping the goo off the counters that I didn’t get to before heading to the office this morning a list started to form in my head.

It’s not wrapped in a bow, it hasn’t been purchased from a store, but every single bit of it is true.

35 years ago, God breathed life into this man that we get to call hubby and daddy

William Richard Harney, here are the 35 things I love and am thankful for:

1. You call me beautiful when I first wake up, when you come home from work or when we have been separated for a bit

2. You always make sure to let me pick the 2 plates we are going to share at restaurants

3. You make sure I have clean sheets to come home to whenever I travel

4. Breakfast is made every morning for me

5. The dreaded nighttime routine has been your jam since Cayden was first weaned 9 yrs ago

6. When I am taking a moment to myself, while you man the circus we call children, you always say “take your time”

7. You deal with the pukers when they hit our home, knowing I CAN.NOT. do it

8. Dirty diapers have never been an issue for you

9. You support me and my need to run, even if it means saturday mornings don’t start until I get my miles in

10. When I catch you staring at me when we are in a crowded room

11. Your willingness to coach and not give up on the uncoachable kids

12. Your ability to fix almost anything that has broken in our house

13. When you hold our daughters and whisper in their ears and they giggle

14. How you care for my mom

15. How you are intentional with my nephew

16. How you LOVE my friends and never make me feel like I have to choose between you or them

17. Your level head when I am spinning like a top

18. The grace you have given over the phone at work when I have called in frantics for the 100th time over some disaster the kids (electrical fire), me (grease fire), lily (bear attack), Candy or the chickens created

19. Your willingness to do the dishes after dinner

20. Your desire to never put out my fire, but instead flame it and show me my voice matters

21. Your adventurous spirit and desire to try something new, since I love routine

22. Your heart to build men up within the church and your desire to be a disciple

23. Your love for christian rap

24. Your bow ties

25. Your silver hair – its sexy

26. How you put us first in everything thing that you do

27. Your willingness to play board/card games against the women in my family knowing you will always loose

28. Your tender heart, the tears you shed when I can’t, your transparency with feelings

29. The opportunities you let our son learn to be a man, when his mom isn’t ready for it

30. How you handled our son when he was exposed to indecency from another kid

31. The advocate you are for your daughter and the countless phone calls you have made to ensure her continued healthcare coverage

32. How you cared for me during the labor of each baby

33. Your ability to forgive and forget

34. Your playfulness, even if I find it annoying half the time, someone needs to see the world different then the black and white that I see

35. How you love us with every part of your soul

Happy birthday my love, I pray that we can show you through our words and actions that we are so blessed to have you as our protector, provider, husband and father.