Ava's 3rd Birthday Letter

Ava-Bayva,

When I first met you, you were nothing but a little baby.  It's been about a year and a half since we met, and it seems you have already grown into a young girl. 
It has become clear to me that you are very special.  You have been given unique abilities and challenges, and I believe you are up to the tasks that life will hold for you.  You are strong and I encourage you to keep utilizing the strength and grit that is so evident inside of you, and that you will use those traits for your good and the good of those around you. 
So far we've had a rocky road getting used to each other.  When your dad and I first married, I took my role as your stepmother very seriously.  I wanted to give you and teach you everything all at once.  You, however, have shown me time and time again that you will accept those things in your own time...when you are ready and from whom you want.  I have come to embrace that idea, even though the thought is sometimes not easy.  I read an article the other day written by a man with the name of Chris Williams.  His story made me think of our relationship and perhaps the relationship we have ahead of us:

“You’re not my real Dad!”

Those were the words I feared most.

As a recent widower with two sons, who was considering marrying a widow named Mikkel with two children of her own, I wondered if I was up to all the potential challenges of blending two families together. Her daughter Arli was just two years old, and Parker was only four, and I was told that they would probably think of me as their dad from day one. But I had a six year old son and a fourteen year old son, both with plenty of memories of how things “used to be” before they were so quickly and dramatically altered with the sudden passing of their mother.I probably picked that phrase up from a movie where some child lashed out at a stepparent in frustration, but my fear of the phrase developed on its own as I considered the difficulties Mikkel and I might face. So I began praying and pondering what I could do at the beginning of the marriage to make the transition as smooth as possible. And hopefully avoid the dreaded words.

One day I was struck by the thought that I should change one word in the statement and then ponder the new meaning.

“You’re not my only Dad.”

My perspective was widened as I considered that I was just one of many fathers that my children have, and I began to make a list. First they have their Heavenly Father. He knows them perfectly and has been their father much longer than I have.

Parker and Arli have Rusty, their father who succumbed to cancer, and my sons have their mother, Michelle, who is also in Heaven. I believe these parents are as interested and involved in their lives as they possibly can be.

When we’re baptized we become children of Jesus Christ, and he becomes yet another father for us.As I further considered the grandparents and great-grandparents, and great-great-grandparents that would be equally interested in their children, I realized that I had a lot of help available to me.

I decided to share this perspective with my children right after the wedding, telling each of them individually how blessed they are to have not one, but many parents. We talked about each one and the different roles that they play in their lives. Together, all of these parents act together to love them, guide them and bless their lives.

And when I’m not sure what to do or how to do it, especially when some type of correction is necessary, I confidently consult with their Heavenly Father, knowing he will have the answer. I go to my children and tell them that “all of the fathers are united” in what I’m asking them to do.

The words I feared and worried about ended up teaching me a powerful lesson. I am not their only father. What a relief it is to know that I’m never alone in my parenting. None of us are, really. We are always surrounded by help.
 have wanted to teach and embrace you, and you've wanted to continue living without the challenges I've presented you with. 
You are special girl.

So, little Ava, I am grateful for you and I wish you the best year yet, on this your 3rd birthday. 

With love,
Mommy Lisa

Andi's 4th Birthday Letter

My Andalyn,

Today we stayed home together and made jam.  As I was looking at you, standing on a stool in front of the sink rinsing off peaches, it once again occurred to me how much I love spending time with you.  Even at the age of four, I consider you one of my best buds.
We do a lot of things together, and some things you do on your own.  We've spent a lot of time together doing things like running errands, going to Bear Lake, being with Grandma, going to playtime or to the library.  We like movie nights (especially on my bed), and we like spending time with your aunts and cousins.  We like our Sundays together when we go to church and visit family.  You are blessed to have so many grandparents to visit.  We like our nightly rituals together of cuddling in your bed and "talking about things," as you like to call it.  It's fun when you go to mutual with me or when we go swimming at the pool or the beach.  I love when you tell me you want to be with me.  It melts me.  You and I have a lot of good times together, but sometimes you like being on your own, too.  Like when you're playing on your Leap Pad--You love to sit there in silence and play your games for hours on end.  You like going to Miss Lori's Preschool (especially now that your cousin Chase is in your class with you!) You like going to your new music class with Miss Karen, and you've also liked your dance classes with Miss Katie.  Lately you've really started to enjoy playing Barbies...With or without your friends or sisters. 
Andi, at this four year-old stage of your life, I have worries.  Not about you...You are so wonderful.  You mean so much to me.  But that's sometimes my fear--That you mean too much to me.  But the thing is, I can't help it....for so many reasons. 
You mean so much to me because you are a part of me, and a part of your Daddy Michael.  You mean so much to me because you and I have been through a lot of stuff together throughout your short life already.  These hard times we've endured together have molded my heart to you.  You mean everything to me because you are a joy to be around, you make me laugh in the hard moments, and you keep me company in the lonely times.  You mean a lot to me because you have a keen awareness of those around you; you're conscientious and thoughtful.  You aren't pretentious and you don't beg for attention.  I love those qualities you possess, and I love that they are apparent even at the age of four. 
My life has meaning because of you, and I can't imagine what it was like before you.  You are my meaning.
So yes, you mean so very much to me...Perhaps I'm justified in fearing my strong attachment to you.  I hope and pray that as you grow, you can remember why it is that you mean this much to me and that you can understand why the rivers run so deep. 
You have a mighty spirit and I know your potential in this life is great.  I can see that now, even at just four years old.
I am here for you always, my darling.  So is Heavenly Father, your countless loved ones, and even your two daddies.
xoxo
Mommy 

Students say, ’It is important to fail’

Last night I watched this news story that for some reason really struck me.  When I think about my teaching and now parenting experiences, I think there is a LOT to be said for this philosophy.  It is a philosophy they call "Grit."  Teachers are encouraging their students to develop grit, which is defined as "indomitable courage, toughness, or resolution."  What a wonderful concept to help instill in a child....
Any grit I have ever had has served me well.

Students tell Brian Williams ’It is important to fail’