to sullivan on his 9th birthday
my precious valentine,
I feel at a loss of what to write this year. It has been an exceptionally hard year with you. In many ways I feel I’ve lost you to a dark place and no matter what, I cannot reach you most days. You’re hurting. You little heart has seen such heartache in its short time. You are the most sensitive of my children and so I think you kind of broke after all the hurt…not broke…cracked. I’ve held you tight many a times as you kick and scream at me, whispering words of truth and blessing over you. Oftentimes I’m just ugly back, and that breaks my heart. We are in really good family therapy, that the Lord provided, and I have hope that your feelings of belonging and the bond with your parents can be built up. It is agonizing to see you like this.
In-between the hard, your countenance shines like the full moon on the ocean. You are a beautiful child with deep, soulful eyes, full kissable lips, and a spark that lights up my soul. The glimpses I have of who you really are are enough.
One of the greatest losses this year was the loss of your twin cousin, Rainy who moved to Colorado this summer. You’ve grown up side by side doing everything together and now it’s like you are not a whole person without her. FaceTime calls and your short one week trip to visit hasn’t come close to filling in the void.
Not to be all doom and gloom, our year has also had many moments of joy and restoration. One of the highlights of the year was that the Lord provided that you could go to Camp Rockmont. Opposite of Barclay, you aren’t usually gung-ho about new experiences and being away from home. You were very hesitant but we gently pushed you out of the nest for 5 days. And what a 5 days you had! I couldn’t believe the boy I picked up compared to the boy I dropped off. Confidence had washed over you, joy was beating in your little heart and you were happy and dirty. You got an award for Strength and Gentleness-a small wooden button that sits on your dresser reminding you of that special time.
In the middle of the year, when hearts were trying to mend, Grover came into our life and has been such a therapy dog for you. I often see you laying nearly on top of him just breathing deeply and feeling content. You go everywhere with him at your heels and it is such a joy to see.
This spring we stumbled upon a house with some land and a creek. It was opposite of what I had ever thought I would want (we lived in my dream 1920’s house, downtown), but the fields of yellow flowers and the bubbling creek called to us and God opened door after door after door and we were able to move here. Anyone who knows you knows that water is soothing to your soul (as it is to your mama’s). You spent hours nearly every day of summer, knee deep, hunched over, catching fish with your hands. There’s a picture I captured of you here with your eyes shining bright and such a feeling of calm washed over you. It’s my very favorite picture I took this year. I am so grateful that you get to have this land, this water to sooth the hurt and restore the cracks.
Speaking of water, we spent days and days at Nana and Papaw’s lake and you fished non stop. You even got to go on a special spend the night with them and went night fishing. You are always smiling when you’re fishing. Your great, big, unabridged grin.
You are still very creative and always folding paper, drawing, molding clay, or whatever else you can find to do with your hands. You still go into a bit of a trance when you are working. Your own little world.
You are learning guitar right now and it is so soothing for you to practice and play. You are getting pretty good! You are surprising me with your dedication and your stick-to-it-ness.
You have grown so tall, I can barely pick you up (which breaks my heart!). Even though you’re such a big kid, you have such a little boy heart. You love being snuggled and rubbed. Sometimes things you say take me a back. I forget what a little boy you still are deep down.
You are tender. So loving towards little ones and babies. I often find you bent down, softly speaking to them, or wanting to help out with them.
I’ve experienced a lot of guilt this year for being so sick when you were five, for having to leave you over and over and over again. Our therapist thinks that break in bond could have a lot to do with your painful freak outs today. We are trying to build up that attachment from the bottom up. So often we sooth you, react to you like we would a five year old. I think it’s working.
Sullivan, I will never stop fighting for you. I will never stop loving you. You are a child of God, perfect in every way. I am proud of you. I am your biggest cheerleader. I can’t wait to see what this next year brings in your healing. I can’t wait to see the adventures you have, the confidence you’ll build, the ways you will change. You are a beautiful creation,
Mama
