on friendship

 Over the past couple of years, I have  been praying about friendships. Friendships especially for oMorgan. Oh sure, I have prayed that the boys would find good buddies, but authentic relationships for girls seem hard to come by.   I have asked for Morgan's path to cross with girls who affirm her, love her, share her beliefs. And He has provided.

 But it was not until this evening, crammed into our dear friends' basement, that I realized He has provided for Scott and I, too. Providing for a need I never knew we had. We've been doing life with a particular crew of people the last few years, and I used to think we were just fortunate. Blessed to have fallen into community with some great folks. But it struck me tonight that these people do for us what I've prayed about for Morgan. They affirm us, love us, share our beliefs. And it isn't  just coincidence.

I paused for a moment in the middle of the chaos, imagining what our New Years Eve party might look like ten years from now, or heck, even five. Who will our kids be? Will we still be gathered, navigating parenthood together?

I hope so.

Community matters. And I'm so grateful we have it.

four years

Dear Matthew,

Happy 4th birthday! I think everyone we've encountered today knows it's your special day.

I realize that by turning four, you won't immediately change into some well-behaved, proper young boy, but I'm glad we've arrived. If I'm being honest, parts of this last year have been challenging to parent you as you plow through life.

You are full throttle, full steam ahead, all cylinders are running. You wake up in the morning refueled, ready to wrestle, talk, DO. It's no wonder you fall asleep at 7:00 every night without any hesitation. Your energy is relentless.

One of your best attributes (and perhaps downfalls) is your social fearlessness. When it comes to conversations, there's never a hesitation, not for a second. One Sunday at the communion rail as an elder passed the wine cups, you blurted out "Hey, can I have one of those?" Every other week at Meijer it's "Why are you buying those carrots?" to the lady in produce, or "Hey, is that your mom???" or "Hi guys!" to the little boys in the shopping cart next to us, as if you're already best friends. You don't yet understand the dangers of talking to strangers, and when I ask you to stop, your response is one of confusion and frustration: "But Mom, I like talking to people," you plead. It's true. You will talk to almost anyone and it's both refreshing and scary.

You see no color, no age, no barriers in being social and I find it fascinating to watch. Conversations with GG are some of your favorites. You are oblivious to her memory lapses and repeated questions, happily answering and sharing and visiting, pleased to bend someone else'e ear.

You also know so many people from our Trinity family and easily share what's on your mind with those in our circle. I love this about you, and hope you know that as you grow, these people we do life with are the ones you can go to in confidence.

Because we are at church and school six or seven days a week, you are incredibly comfortable there. So comfortable, in fact, that you often take off, going where you please without me. You'll walk into the teacher lounge, the school office, chat it up with the custodian in his supply closet, it makes no difference as long as the destination involves more people. And I'm that mom who's always telling her kid to "get over here!" or "come back right now!" to no avail.

There were so many moments this last year where my warnings against your independence were not in time. One morning you found me in the crowded school hallway, your hands covered in a strange green substance. Before I ever realized you left my side, you had put your fingers into a 5th grader's solar system made of frosted cupcakes, an ungraded project that had just arrived at school moments before. (For the record, I forced you to explain and apologize to both the student and the teacher with the evidence all over your hands, and was secretly pleased to see your mortified face, a sign that the consequences of your actions were sinking in.)

Thankfully in January I was able to abort your mission before it ever took off. I specifically remember my mouth opening and emitting a sound I had never heard before - a half-scream, half-yell "no"!!! Your hand was ON the fire alarm, one second away from pulling the red handle down and evacuating the church, school and early childhood center. It took me a good hour to recover from that moment, although I'm certain this will not be the last time I experience panic because of your exploration.

Because you are so independent, you seem to have trouble tuning in to your parents. You love helping yourself to the contents of the refrigerator, permanent markers or crafts, LIFE. Dad and I have tried time outs, losing privileges, earning rewards, all of it. Unfortunately, lessons for you seem to be learned only by doing. I can tell you ten times not to walk in front of the swings, but once you get bonked in the head, it suddenly sinks in. Physical consequences are the best teaching tools for you.

Boundaries are just difficult for you to respect and I think the reasons are two-fold. For starters, you are a four year old male. I once heard a speaker with a background in child development say that if you ask a boy why he did something, he will most likely say "I don't know" and truly not know. This is you. Why did you spit in spit in someone's hair? You honestly don't know.

I also think your decisions are made impulsively with no comprehension about what the result of your actions will be. Thinking beyond the action just isn't there. And also? You don't really care. Playing outside in your unders? Who cares. Leaving your train on the rear bumper of the van? Never thought it would get run over.

When you do hear us, most often you do not agree with our requests. The result is a wild card response from you - whining, pouting, dirty looks, or full-on non-compliance. You are persistent, but after four years as our child, you've figured out when we mean business and eventually surrender.

However, it's not all mayhem and meltdowns with you, Matthew. You have a very creative mind. When you become fearful of being alone, you often mention that you will think about tornadoes or lizards or some other perceived threat while we are apart and how scary that will be. Some mornings you wake up and describe your dreams with great detail - dreams that I'm not certain you really remember, but rather concoct out of thin air based on the things that are in front of you in that moment. From your seat in the car you see all sorts of objects and animals in the puffy clouds above. You've gotten really good at making up stories, too, to the point where I'm not sure if I believe you. So often you end with, "I'm just kidding." It's probably time you learn about the boy who cried wolf.

Green is still your favorite color and for the last year, every preschool project, every painting, coloring, craft of any kind has been in this color. "Gween is my fav-wit," you tell me.

Trains. Enough said.
























There's been a remarkable and almost sudden change in your letter/number recognition, your ability to hold pencils and markers correctly, your counting skills, and interest in books. You love being read to and it's the only thing that captivates you for long stretches of being still.



















I don't think preschool can be credited for all your new academic skills, although you did have ball there with another little boy of the same name. You and Matthew J. are preschool pals. You both share a fondness for Thomas the Train that is pretty epic and play together as if no one else exists in the classroom. On the Sunday School scene, Adrienne is your go-to friend. Another baby of the family, she plays like you, and has a free spirit that is attractive to your wild side. So far you are batting 1000 in the friendship circle - we like your friends and their parents.

Coordination seems pretty advanced for a kid your age. You're free of training wheels, strong, you've been jumping great heights,  Could it be that your power packed body is also just as athletic? It's funny, though - or not so funny - that when it comes to tasks like getting dressed or using the bathroom. Your profess that your abilities have taken a leave of absence and suddenly you are unable (read: unwilling) to handle such needs.

A recent line of yours is "but I like being with parents." Since when?? This refers to your sudden fear of being alone. And it's not just a specific place in the house. Perhaps your awareness of your surroundings has broadened? I'm not exactly sure, but hoping it's a phase. This may also be what affects your sleep every night. It seems like your worst dreaming happens at 4 or 5 in the morning. Often you wake up and rush into our bedroom, still half asleep talking about things we can't understand. To encourage you and preserve our sleep, we covered the digital minutes on the clock and told you to stay in the bed until you see a 6. To our delight, it worked.

You have a thing for babies, a love of ice cream, and a special silky tag on the corner of your blanket that mindlessly soothes like nothing else. You also have a desire to be the star of your own show. Every stoop, step or elevated structure is your stage, another opportunity to speak your mind to the masses.

Most of our family pictures now require three or four takes because we constantly have to ask you to stop performing. If it's not a show, it's a goofy face, stuck-out tongue or crotch grab. It would be nice to just have your beautiful smile. Please.

Morgan is the one you model your attitude after. You are picking up her tones, words and actions when it comes to communication with your family. You also defer to Morgan when it comes to making decisions for yourself. If she chooses Superman ice cream, that's what you'll have. If you're asked first about what game to play, you ask Morgan what she would choose. I suppose if you're going to be influenced, Morgan's a good one to follow.

As for Andrew, you two are comrades for sure. Always in the yard fighting off imaginary enemies, or riding bikes together, or goofing off in the house. It takes a bit of effort to get between the brotherhood.

While Morgan and Andrew can be fun playmates and I may be the one you spend the most time with, Dad is your ultimate buddy. You prefer him hands down for everything. Reading books, getting changed, brushing teeth, playing games. It's his lap, his arms, his time, and his affection you value most.

It certainly has been an interesting year, Matthew. I could use all of the common cliches to describe you - pistol, firecracker, free spirit - I've heard them all. But you are so much more than that. This year with you has given me such hope about your future. You aren't quiet, meek, reserved or tight-lipped. You are unashamed, truthful, a game-changer. I believe with all my heart that you will do great things in your lifetime. And my prayer is that you keep Christ for that journey. As GG always says, "Take the Lord with you." Indeed, Matthew. Take the Lord.

I love you,
Mom

For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago. Ephesians 2:10

seven years

Happy birthday, sweet Andrew! Today you are seven years old!

I don't think there's been a year prior that you've been as excited about your special day as this year. So many questions about when and how and gifts and parties. You've asked for one of your favorite foods for dinner tonight - chicken and cheese quesadillas. With sour cream, of course. You love to swipe that triangle through the sour cream.

We have learned many things this year about who you are becoming, what motivates you, and what your passions are.

You love being in the kitchen with me. Chopping peppers or seasoning steaks, topping the pizzas or making salad, it's all fun for you. And let's not forget the seasoning. You are not afraid to be bold when it comes to flavors. Salt and pepper are permanently parked next to your place at the table where you add even more dimension to your food each night. Sometimes I think you should make dinner, start to finish. You'd rise to that challenge for sure. Proud to serve your meal. And super happy to swap that responsibility with one you already have: setting the table.

You've had this chore for the last year and you loathe it. (And we all hear about it as you bemoan the trouble it causes you.) I have tried to re-frame your thinking about the table - telling you what might have happened if you were a Bruene with such a fuss, or how Dad doesn't necessarily enjoy going to work every day, but he does it anyway. These talks appear to get you thinking and give you a temporary pause from all your lamenting. Maybe they are sinking in, too?

Some days you quickly go from joy to sorrow in a matter of seconds. I try so hard to pin down the real cause, the real reason for your distress. Tired? Hungry? Hydrated? Or is there something more that we don't yet know about you? I'm not really sure, Andrew.

Many of the injustices you face seem to involve Morgan. I know you're headed downhill when you start adding an extra syllable to your words: "Morgan-uh. That's not fair-uh!" You are convinced that her accidents are intentional, her apologies are hollow, and her main goal in life is to terrorize you. There is truth to some of that, but not all. It's just that your sibling experience thus far has taught you to put on the gloves, to get defensive, to assume that surely she must be out to get you.

You know, Andrew, I know a whole lot about what it's like to be Morgan. I've twisted the words, used snarky tones, held my expectations too high, all of it. Every big-sister game and manipulation. But as your mom, I also understand your perspective. I know that your birth order means a craving for affirmation, that validation is your gold medal, that having the spotlight or being placed first is so very meaningful, that quality time (just you and your parents) fills you up in a way that nothing else can. Your words are always so telling... Did you see me jump? Was the splash big? Watch me ride with no hands! Weren't those good manners? Yes, yes, all the yeses. We see you, buddy. We love you dearly.

Sometimes siblings don't know how exactly to love each other, but despite Morgan's insensitivity towards you right now, believe me when I tell you she really does love you so very much. You do have fun moments together as the older two siblings with shared interests and activities. It's often you and Morgan in the front yard playing the sport of the season together, or riding bikes, or scheming a new plan. These are the things you will remember when you are older.

Another clue to your love tank? Your smile. Based on the way your face holds emotion, I'm certain you will never be successful at poker. (And your wife will be ever grateful to know exactly how you're feeling.) You find joy in little moments of everyday life. Receiving a letter in the mail, having a "special breakfast"
or opening a pack of gum all bring a huge smile to your face.

You are at a great age for watching movie classics. This past year we checked several off our list: Swiss Family Robinson, Peter Pan, Beauty and the Beast, and The Boxcar Children to name a few. Listening to you giggle reminds me that you still are little - laughing unashamed at the animated slapstick. And yet I can tell you are definitely all boy - caught up in the action, fighting for good to prevail, rooting for Peter to defeat Hook and dreaming of being a Lost Boy. This, this is boyhood at it's finest.


You crave exploration and are the first to head outdoors, regardless if anyone follows you. What's more likely is finding you swept up with others who share the same sense of adventure, long gone without your sense of reason or listening ears.

Bravery remains one of your most admirable qualities. You've become our household bug killer when Dad's not around, taking out spiders and ants when needed without a second thought. You're the first of the three kiddos down a dark hallway, assuring the other two not to be scared. And the last two summers at family day for Dad's work, you begged us to ride the ferris wheel with you. Dad, of course, said yes, but you and I shared this experience just last week. You assured me it would be fun, that I would be okay, that I just HAD to go with you. As we strapped in and the wheel started spinning, you reacted in a way that I didn't expect - trembling, screams, and a tight grip, but never begging to get off. Just enough thrill to jolt, but not enough to scare.

There are some quieter things that capture your attention: you have an enthusiasm for reading (dinner devotions) and a love for writing (letters and notes). Coming from the toddler who attended speech therapy, it makes me smile that you love words. So many ideas in your head are trying to fight their way out of your mouth or onto the paper. We do our best to listen intently to what you say, not because it's important information, but because you long to be affirmed.

It seems that many of your words come out in the form of questions. You are fascinated by how the world works, asking why so often that admittedly I reply in exasperation at times: "Because that's just how God made it" or "That's just how it works". A journal for your thoughts at home might be best in helping us both. But your most in-depth inquiries revolve around things that make you uneasy like severe weather or first days of school/swim lessons/practice.  These aren't topics that keep you up at night, but ones that need a bit of clarifying before you're able to move on.

You did play AYSO soccer again last year and, at Dad's request, played up in the U8 group. This was a better fit for you, even if you didn't get to be the speedy star of the team. Upward Basketball was new and I was honored to help coach your team. After just a few years in team sports, it's clear you have a heart not only for your personal victories, Andrew, but also for the success of your teammates. Even for just a season, you have a loyalty that is a rarity these days.

I have seen this same loyalty with your friendships. You take your relationships very seriously and often shared with me last year when others didn't reciprocate. One of the most challenging things in parenting is trying to explain life, Andrew. As you get older, situations become more gray and the concrete answers don't always work like they once did. Kindergarten gave you confidence and responsibility in a way that I hadn't yet seen in you. Now as you go into first grade, your teacher will share so much more about the right tools for the right job when it comes to social situations.

As you start Grade 1 - your first experience with full-day school - I will certainly miss you. So will Matthew. He has been your afternoon buddy for years and the two of you have developed a tight brotherhood in your time alone. These hours together also allowed you the opportunity to lead and be followed, to manage and be heard. That doesn't always happen with a full house.

Despite all the togetherness on teams, surrounded by siblings and coziness with classmates, you actually don't mind being alone. It may not be intentional, but I notice when you slip away. Maybe it's a book or new idea working in your head. Whatever the case, I love that you are comfortable enough to break away from the crowd and go wherever your mind takes you. It seems that those moments of reprieve and separation satisfy your soul.


Recently we took you to a local cruise where years of old cars lined the parking lots and slowly made their way down the avenue. It's quite possible you were born in the wrong decade, Andrew! I'm convinced your love for vintage autos will never fade, and that you will forever notice details of new makes that I could never discern. The day you turn 16 will be life-changing, although, you're already practicing, pretending to drive the van while it's parked in the garage.

On Monday, we will visit our favorite pediatrician for your seven-year well visit. He will remark about how pleased he is with you, ask how well you're eating, if you play any sports and if you're sleeping well at night. I will beam as you answer all his questions, but I will ask him some things that bring me uncertainty as your mother: so much sleep and so much sickness.

As a baby, Andrew, you were a very light sleeper. We tiptoed strategically upon the creaking hardwoods to keep you sleeping, but despite our best efforts, you were crying like clockwork after every short 45-minute nap. When you started to sleep longer stretches and then 11, 12, sometimes 13 hours a night, we were elated. I often joked that getting you out of bed on school mornings was like waking a high-schooler. But that pattern hasn't stopped. You love to sleep, even at seven years old. Is there such a thing as too much sleep? We shall see.

You also spent much of this year on the couch with sickness. Fever and vomiting for at least three days at a time. One stretch was only four weeks before you were ill again. Even this summer you had strange fever-free sicknesses, two Tuesdays a week apart, lasting 24 hours each. Simple dehydration? Could that really be the explanation?

I suppose like most of your encounters, you're either at one end of the scale of the other, two extremes. Emotions are either sky high happiness or super low sadness. Physical well-being is swimming for hours or throwing up in your sleep. Mentally you are knocking tasks out of the park or wallowing in sadness about not being able to do it. There doesn't seem to be a middle ground very often when it comes to your life, Andrew. Amazingly, we always know where you stand. (see "poker face")

So will this next year be more of the same? I betcha, yes. Sweet, sincere Andrew with the signature smile. You've flashed that grin since you were tiny, and recently I watched an old video of you doing just that. Two years old, singing the ABC's, a pair of dimples still in your cheeks. It's captivating to see the past and reflect on how you've grown since. Of course there are changes every year, but it's clear you've just become a more concentrated version of that little guy I captured on video in the living room. Thoughtful, persistent, truthful, heartfelt, honest. It's at the core of who you are.

I pray for the year ahead, Andrew, that you remain joyful in all you do. That you take every moment as an opportunity to see the good, to see God working. No, not every day will be happy or easy or the thrilling adventure you prefer, but I believe a re-focus of your heart will do wonders for your well-being. I love this version of Romans 12:2 (NLT)for you:

Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will learn to know God’s will for you, which is good and pleasing and perfect.

So on this day and every day, Andrew, may your heart remember the Truth.

I love you,

Mom 

start to finish

I'll tell you what... this year, it flew. Bigger, faster, smarter. More confident, more assertive, more social. These three had a great year and we are ready to officially start summer!

 

Third grade

 

Kindergarten

 Preschool 3

the graduate

Andrew is a Kindergarten graduate!

These are some of his best pals, friends I hope he keeps for years to come.

(Inaugural memebers of the Shicken-Buddy Club)



daddy daughter dance

nine years

Happy ninth birthday, Morgan!

You haven't hit double digits, but this is most definitely a milestone year in your life. In OUR life. You see, this birthday marks the median to 18 - we are now half-way through our mental jar of marbles representing our weeks with you. These are such critical years of value formation, the years where you still ask why, the years where Dad and I have a huge responsibility in making sure the seeds we choose to plant are watered and cared for and nurtured. Nine is a big deal.

Seeing you grow physically has only reinforced that number. You're so tall! And I'm not the only one to take notice. It's true that you have gained a couple inches this year. Your adult teeth are coming in so straight and your smile suddenly has a maturity about it. Your closet is thinning out as many of your clothes are no longer fitting in length. And your ears are now pierced! The same age I was when my Aunt took me to get mine done.

With all this growth has come coordination. Your athletic abilities have really started to develop. This year we enrolled you in AYSO soccer at your request, a sport you enjoyed learning about and playing, but not one Dad and I think you will love.

Basketball seems to be more your speed right now. Upward Basketball just wrapped up at our church and it's there that we saw some sparkle. Watching you dribble, drive, and shoot to score during games was both surprising and impressive. That experience has translated into a constant desire to shoot in the driveway and watch college basketball on TV. We are already having so much fun with March Madness!

This past year you professed your love for the Spartans and future commitment to attend college in East Lansing. I'm not sure if this was influence of your uncles and aunt or MSU's favorable year in mainstream athletics that you enjoyed watching. Either way, you love having a team to root for and wear the green and white with pride as much as possible.

Piano has been going well and just like basketball, you can play without looking down. This is a sign of dedicated practice and natural skill. Your first recital was at the end of second grade and it's there that Dad and I were in awe of your bravery to perform without hesitation. It wasn't so long ago that you were a frightened preschooler who wouldn't stand on the steps at church to sing with your classmates. And here we are today, watching your courage grow.

Now that you can read music, the piano is a magnet for you. Seldom do I remind you to practice. At Christmas you relished the chance to play (two-handed chords) from my old books. I love to watch you at the keyboard, to see your eyes maintain contact with the notes, your hands knowing just where to go to play sweet melodies.

And just like a record scratching to stop beautiful music, the piano will suddenly deliver a clammer of low notes as the fat hand of a three year old tries to create a duet with you. Yes, Matthew loves to be near you, both to soak in all your sisterly love and to push your buttons. In these moments of unexpected interruption you are beyond annoyed, but most times you enjoy your responsible role of big sister.


















While you typically play it safe with Matthew, it's with Andrew that you're more adventurous. He brings out this side of you, ready to explore the unknown, play new games or be more daring. With Andrew as your front-line, you'll go along with almost anything, as long as he takes the first step.

I love that Andrew coaxes you out of the comfortable because your dedication to routine is so devout - you eat your toast in a peanut butter, jam, and cinnamon sugar pattern. You won't empty the clean silverware in the morning until your teeth are brushed. Belts are regularly rotated in your uniform pants each week. Consistency is your cozy. The apple doesn't fall far, my dear.

Your bedtime has started moving. I knew this day would come eventually. You've always been a super sleeper, Morgan. And Dad and I have heard scrambled words tumble out of your mouth plenty of times as you sleep, but this year you've actually started walking in your sleep. At the end of one night as Dad and I came into our room, we found you sleeping in our bed. Another time, we found you had placed your book there. The most bizarre? We heard grunting from the dark hallway and found you standing with a firm grip on all of your bedding, struggling to finish stripping your bed. As a kid, I remember waking up in the middle of sleep walking, too, doing that exact same thing with my sheets.

Spending time with Dad alone is still one of your favorite things to do. Last fall he took you to a Lions football game and you enjoyed every second of that special outing, especially watching Matthew Stafford and eating popcorn. He's still the fun one, and being near him is where you like to be.


















What else about our Morgan Grace? You enjoy scanning the Sunday Comics, watching PBS's newest shows, playing sports of any kind, accessorizing Kit and Ruthie, and reading mysteries. You're just as happy with a book in your hand as you are a bowl of ice cream.








































Third grade has been good to you. School work still comes easy, and you've even mastered Ga-ga Ball at recess. While many of the girls in your class are on the swings or playing house, you're in the pit and sure to let us know at dinner when you've won a match that day.



















This school year has also brought about a shift in your friendships. Navigating relationships is hard to do at any age, and like it or not, you've had to start recognizing what good friends look like. I've been praying for God to send a new pal into your life and He has delivered. You have a small crew that you occasionally share about, and two in particular whose names are mentioned most often. When you were little, I never thought about the possibility that the children of my closest friends may not be yours. Like you, Dad and I have our crew, but because you are not in the same grades as the other families' kids, it's more challenging for you to connect. I realize now that I should be more intentional about helping you forge new friendships, inviting girls over despite not being tight with their moms, and making more plans with our family friends so the distance is lessened.

My eyes have been opened a little more this year about what it means to parent a girl. Many of the challenges you face are no different than what I did at the same age - social situations at the lunch table, third grade classroom politics, recess. But the world is a different place now, and while I'm not eager to expose you to it, I do understand that keeping you hidden under a rock just isn't wise.

The questions you've been brave enough to ask this year are big questions. I'm thrilled you have courage to ask them. And I'm even more honored to get to answer them. I always remind you that Dad and I will tell you the truth about anything because what I've discovered as you grow is that I cannot protect you from the world. You will be exposed to tragedy and temptation, you will associate with people who make damaging choices, you will hear and see inappropriate messages even from people you consider close. It's not avoiding those things that matters most; it's knowing how to make the right choices along the way that does.

We spend many minutes each night lying in your bed discussing the day. These moments together are when you allow me to impart wisdom. While you may not immediately apply my words to all your situations, I know you are hearing me, and will someday find those tools helpful when the need arises.

There will come a time in a few short years when you don't allow me in so close. You will be eager to test your wings a bit and see how well you do on your own. I pray, Morgan, that our imparted knowledge and Truth will guide you along the way. We are half-way to launch. May you constantly be "rooted and built up in Him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing in thankfulness." Colossians 2:6-8

Happy birthday, Morgan Grace.
I love you dearly,
Mom