-- Pope John Paul II
Dear Carter Christopher,
This grin of yours is what we get when we ask you to smile for the camera. It's over-the-top, but it is how I will remember your fifth year: a sweet expression of a very big heart, and the deluge of raging emotions it can't contain.
The joy and the sadness, the fear and the trust, the anger and the anticipation.
You squeal with delight over snapping photos with my (expensive) camera, running wild outside, or getting to spend time with your friends and favorite people. At Halloween this year, when you borrowed this battery-powered toy chain saw to complete your costume, and raised it over your head for effect, I couldn't stop laughing.
You will do well to find untamed joy in little things like this forever.
You are quick to push Lukey out of your room to protect your territory, but when he climbs mischievously onto the coffee table, you call to your mom because you are naturally protective of him.
He makes you crazy a lot, but you're a good big brother. Really.
And for as long as you are, you're allowed to feel both anger and love toward him, but I'm believing love will win in the long run.
In the past two months, you've lived the heartache of good-byes, having left your school, your friends, and your home, and moved to a new city. Your mom and dad prepared you well for a new adventure, but didn't (nor couldn't) shelter you from the sadness. In one moment you'd be excited and expectant; in the next, you'd fight back tears for the people and places you knew you'd miss.
You'll be surprised one day at how easily anticipation and sadness coexist.
At the beach this summer, a wave snatched a shovel from your grip. You were afraid of the ocean the next time, and of its power. You cried at the thought of returning, but your dad assured you over and over that you'd be okay, and gently persuaded you to give it another chance. You did, and I love that you did so because you trusted your dad. It is so gratifying to watch you grow in trust of the people who love you the most.
I hope to God that when you feel fearful, you'll always know who you can trust implicitly for your safety and well-being.
I love watching it all unfold: this awakening in you of unfamiliar feelings, and your trepidation in navigating them.
Your mom and dad see it all too, and they are so proud of how you are growing up:
I'd describe Carter's personality with these few words:
mom: Friendly, strong-willed, curious.
dad: Pure, joyful, curious.
Carter is happiest when he ...
mom: Is spending time with his Dad.
dad: Is doing anything outside.
Carter is not-so-charming when he ...
mom: Back-talks.
dad: Is asked to allow Luke into his room, or share a toy with Luke. This produces multiple Carter heads that screech at various decibels of sound that both humans and dogs can hear.
My proudest moment as a parent this past year was ...
mom: There are too many to pick just one! I was proud when he fearlessly started a new school and made all new friends. I was proud of the way he continued to work hard in speech therapy and OT, even though it was hard for him. I was proud that at the end of the year his teachers and therapists described him as a sweet, kind boy who was a good friend to others. I am proud that despite being very afraid, he is trying to learn how to swim and ride a bike independently.
dad: When Carter asked me how he can talk to God, and explaining to him that he can talk to Him whenever he wants. Then later hearing him pray, "God, it's me, Carter."
One time this past year when I thought I was going to lose my mind was ...
mom: This summer. Between the move, the extreme heat, and the lack of friends due to the move, it has been VERY hard to keep both boys busy and happy.
dad: Likely multiple times, usually centered around Carter's ever-increasing attitude and back-talking ability, and hits/kicks to Luke's body.
Carter's best qualities are ...
mom: He loves people like his dad does. He still likes to snuggle with his mom. He has an incredible memory that amazes me daily. He finds joy in the small things in life.
dad: His gentle heart, his smile, his laugh, his animation, his care for babies and small children.
My heart broke a little bit this past year when ...
mom: He repeatedly asked me if we could go back to our old house after we moved.
dad: We had to move Carter away from the only home and friends he's known.
I laugh out loud when Carter ...
mom: Laughs! Some nights when Chris and I put him to bed, we kiss each side of his face repeatedly saying, "That is my Carter ... No, that is my Carter" while he dissolves into giggles while being covered in kisses. It is a laugh of pure joy.
dad: Dances. He has a great stanky leg move.
After his fifth birthday, I'm most looking forward to ...
mom: When he finally realizes that Luke is a playmate and not an enemy trying to steal all his toys.
dad: Carter making new friends and learning to swim!
There is one more story from this year that's my favorite of them all.
One day on vacation with all of us, you were whiny and dramatic. You sat out of the pool to be disciplined, and to contemplate your behavior. After a few minutes, you called to your dad, contrite and sad, Dad? Can you come here, please?
He went to you in patience, and you barely squeaked out, I'm sorry for being fussy earlier.
Gracious, I'm not sure I'll ever hear a sweeter thing come from the mouth of a 4-year old, because Little Man, you were livin' the Gospel in that moment.
I watched your anger breed disobedience, and trust me, that will happen for as long as you walk this earth. But then your heart softened, your mouth repented, and you received forgiveness.
This heart of yours, wild with joy and sadness and everything in between, is flourishing, and its fruit is kindness, compassion, and conscience. We are ever hopeful that it remains engaged and pure, draws you continually to pray, God, it's me, Carter, and that it is always a place where the Gospel takes root over and over again.
Happy Fifth, Little Man. We love you, your heart, and all of your feels.
