Your Mother.

Dear Noah,


Your mom has been gone for almost a week now, but is finally getting home tonight.  I have missed her a great deal and though you didn't always express it in the most pleasant format possible, it was clear you missed her as well.  I thought this would be a good time to reflect a little and tell you about her.


The first thing you should know is how deeply she loves you and how much time she has spent focusing on the smallest of details to make sure you are raised in the best possible environment.  Your seventeen months on earth have been enveloped in the framework of careful consideration and love as well as a great deal of worry that she was making the best decisions for you.  


If there was ever a picture of strength in the face of difficulty, it would be your mom.  She has faced adversity and stress that would have demoralized many, but through it all kept her resolve, her passion, and her commitment to focus on what was important.   From being in labor when she learned we had lost our house in a tornado and then living in a temporary apartment, to moving to a new city and through it all finishing her second year of medical school and then studying and passing her board exams, she expressed a fortitude and grace that was inspiring.


You will often hear discussions about women who "just don't know how beautiful they are".  This can often be somewhat trite and at times unconvincing, but your mom personifies that statement.  And while this may be more relevant to me, I think it's important for you to know, because it illuminates a great deal about your mother.


The last areas I will note are your mom's intensity, passion and authenticity.  She often struggles under the weight of just how big her heart and passion for the world is, but it is this struggle that is so informative.  She is never content with simple answers and wrestles with the big questions with a tenacity that you will rarely see matched.  Discontent is rarely a virtue, but with your mother, it often is.  She is not content with mediocrity or the status quo.  She is not content to settle into a comfortable web of oblivion and ignore the injustice in the world.   The incredible thing is that you will be here to witness her journey firsthand.


You're too young right now to realize how blessed you are.  You are too young to recognize what an amazing mother you have.  Many years from now you will read and possibly reread this and reflect, perhaps as a parent yourself, and will recognize what an amazing, God given gift you were provided.


Love,
Dad

My Son the Street Sweeper

Dear Noah,


Don't get me wrong, I've envisioned watching you score the winning touchdown from the stands and I'm well aware of the natural tendency to attach visions of your future success with my status as a father.  Having said that, there is a quote that I want to be one of the driving forces in how you are raised:


“If a man is called to be a street sweeper, he should sweep streets even as Michelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music, or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, here lived a great street sweeper who did his job well.”  Martin Luther King


There will be no shortage of societal pressure that will seek to press you into a predetermined mold.  There will be no shortage of voices that strive to wrap the status attached to what you do with your self-worth.  You will undoubtedly grow up facing suggestions that attainment at any cost is a virtue.   It is my sincere hope however that you will learn to recognize that it is not "what" you do, but "how" you do it that is most important.  


Your mom and I spend part of this weekend in Kansas City with the Abbott's and saw Sufjan Stevens in concert.  We had a great time and enjoyed the concert, but missed you.  Sufjan will no doubt be the soundtrack to a great deal of your childhood.  You stayed with Oma who has been in Jefferson City for around a month, and from what we hear you had a lot of fun.


And before I forget, at some point in the coming years, you are grounded.  I brought you downstairs a few days ago in my shorts and while looking at my stomach, you said "ball". . . "ball".  I just don't want their to be any confusion when you think I grounded you out of nowhere.  


You have begun to frequently say a very distinct (and drawn out) uh-oh.  This usually follows something you do intentionally like throwing a toy behind the couch.  


While you have always had a natural ability to break your mom and I down with your cry and "pitiful face", you have recently taken this to a whole different realm.  It's as if somehow in your short life, you have tapped into the heart of human misery and sadness and found a way to capture it in your voice and facial expressions.  I don't ever take you outside before your first nap.  I did today.


Love,
Dad

Seventeen Months

Dear Noah,

You woke up an hour too early this morning and are currently whining at me, but I wouldn't change a thing.  I have a great deal to catch you up on over the seventeen months of your life.  From a tornado that destroyed our home where you would have first lived to the recent summer we spent out of state, our lives have been an adventure marked by extreme highs as well as frustrating lows.
  
You have been walking for months and are very close to being able to run.  You say quite a few words that include ball, bath, kittie, mama, dada and juice.  You try to climb everything you can get at least one foot on and enjoy throwing yourself wildly when you are on the couch. 

The following are some of the adorable things taking place right now:  Throwing balls wildly and often behind you. . . taking a series of very slow steps backwards when you want to sit on our lap while we are on the floor. . . your love of kitties (zzuzhuzz). . . walking over and laying your head down on us when we ask for a hug. . . trying to feed us your saliva soaked food. . .your Squidward laugh that often sounds fake, but is beyond adorable. . . wanting us to read you the same books over and over. . . (you're presently bringing me a book too big for you to handle "The Little Engine That Could" and are instantly frustrated). . . kissing each person or animal every time we turn the page . . .having us kiss "Monkey" before you go to bed. . .

I will never be able to effectively capture my emotions or memories and am honestly intimidated to even try, but these letters will serve as an attempt to share with you how much I love you as well as conveying the dreams I have for your life.


Love,
Dad

"Until you have a son of your own... you will never know the joy, the love beyond feeling that resonates in the heart of a father as he looks upon his son. You will never know the sense of honor that makes a man want to be more than he is and to pass something good and hopeful into the hands of his son. And you will never know the heartbreak of the fathers who are haunted by the personal demons that keep them from being the men they want their sons to be."  - Kent Nerburn