Fifteen

Fifteen is a good number.

Today, Tanner turns 15, the age of driver's permits and tiny tastes of independence. Our second ray of sunshine, our second mouth to feed, our second legacy, our second chance to prove we've got this parenting thing down pat turns 15 today and I'm in awe that fifteen years ago, I stole a brief glance at my 1 pound 13 ounce baby before they whisked him off to the NICU to save his life.

I remember it like it was yesterday, though it wasn't. November 16, 2002, was a long time ago. It was t-ball and flag football ago; pre-k and losing the training wheels ago. Mastering state tests and getting baptised ago. It was many, many needle pricks and blood tests and visits to Atlanta to see Dr. Felner ago. It happened four houses, three schools, and plenty of friends ago. Your miraculous birth occurred 15 Christmases, 15 summer vacations, and 15 football seasons ago.

November 16, 2002, was a long time ago, long enough for the baby who required oxygen and antibiotics and round-the-clock care to become a young man who catches rides home from football and wrestling with a friend; long enough for him to have homecoming and formal and bow ties and size 10 shoes; long enough for him to be as tall as me and as typical as a 15 year old should be. Typical--when he was born we prayed for typical, but were warned, prepared for the opposite.

Fifteen years is a long time, but it will never be enough time to show thanks and gratitude for all the answered prayers on this one's behalf. I can never part with all of the Get Well cards and church prayer lists that flooded our mailbox for those seventeen weeks in the NICU. Great things were asked for him and today, because he is healthy and smart and strong and happy, great things are asked of him. Most days he obliges! He is a respectful student, a good friend, his brothers' keeper, and a special son.

Fifteen years ago our Tanner was born, 15 weeks too early. If not, we would have celebrated his birth in February and missed out on being able to count our biggest healing, our greatest answered prayer in November, the month of thanks and giving, but especially thanks.

Thanks for boys and messes and loud noises and broken dishes and "Sorry Moms" and dirty bath tubs and typical brotherly behavior.

Fifteen is a good, good number, y'all!

We're Moving on Up!

November is here and with it the breath-taking leaves, winter sports, and a sad farewell to football season. It always makes me sad to see an empty football field, super quiet and such a change from the chants of cheerleaders, the music from the band, and the clashing of shoulder pads from my numbers 11 and 4. But this year, November also marks our 4th month in our new hometown, our new schools, and our new jobs. The closing of three months of practices, workouts, and games in heat, humidity, rain, and cold seems like the perfect time to recap all that has happened since we changed addresses and team mascots, on and off the field. This family has been BUSY making its mark, and I couldn't be more proud of my football family.

First of all, the boys took the news of a move to a new town like champs! Tucker and Tanner chucked their old school colors and took to sporting the purple and gold everywhere they went. They made morning workouts all summer, played summer baseball and basketball, and made friends within weeks. They had great varsity and JV seasons and made my Thursday and Friday nights full of fun from the stands. They have found a great youth group where they spend most of their Wednesday and Sunday nights and have plans to go on a mission trip next summer. They've been invited to birthday parties and cleaned up nicely for HOCO.

Tate, as always, follows closely in the footsteps of those two big brothers. He met his football team a few weeks before school started and now looks like a kid who's been an Indian since birth. He pretty much runs the high school (after hours, anyway) and isn't afraid to tell someone, "my dad's the principal." He comes close to getting too big for his britches some days, but he always manages to rein it in before that happens. This month he will make his musical debut in the school play as the Blue Shark. He remains a friendly, fun, easy-going kid who seems wholly unaffected by the move.

Truett is my right-hand man these days, traveling from gym to gym, bootcamp to bootcamp, practice to practice most days of the week, toting weights, jump ropes, and medicine balls to help me out. He'll be a personal trainer one day, simply by default. He, too, loves his daddy's school, the lunch ladies there who spoil him with slushies, and the limitless rides on the Kubota and golf cart. Not much is better for a boy who's almost 4.

Finally, our coach, er, Principal Kirk loves his post as the chief of the Indian Tribe. His campus looks immaculate, his faculty rocks, and the students seem pretty happy with the laws of the land. If you ask him, he'll tell you he pinches himself most mornings as he pulls into the school to begin his daily tasks with morning bus duty.

To quote Dr. Phil (ACK!!!, forgive me), a mother is only as happy as her saddest child. These boys are making my mom job easy peasy. Their days are filled with friends, sports, activities, games, chatter, a full house most weekends, and some extra kiddos who call me Mom.

Yes, November brings colder days, darker days, and the end of our favorite sport. But this November has brought a great big Thanksgiving for new jobs and opportunities and resilient boys who see the glass half full and the world as their oyster.

This November I am so thankful for a husband who isn't afraid to say yes, and a God who says, "Trust Me." We did, and He is Good!