Dear Jason,

My beloved nephew. Four years ago today, I sat in the late-night darkness in my living room, chewing on the nails of one hand while the other clutched the phone. I was barely able to breathe past the tightness in my chest. And I whispered the first of what would be many, many urgent prayers for your health and your safety over the next four years.

Your mother was in the hospital and your Gran had just called me to let me know you were on your way – your Mom was going to have a C-section within the hour. Gran sounded nervous. She was undoubtedly thinking about how your Dad had been born the exact same way. Little did we know that would just be one way you were so much like your Dad!

I prayed and waited for the phone call that would let your Canadian family know you had finally arrived safe and sound. When it did, the joy we felt was incredible. You filled the lives around you with amazement, and people half a world away fell in love with you the instant we saw your perfect little face.

I used to check my e-mail constantly for the next photos your Dad would send. He was working so many hours and was as exhausted like all new daddies are, but he couldn’t wait to see you at the end of the day and I have so many wonderful pictures and short videos that show how much he loved being with you.

Four years later, your life is very different from what we all thought it would be. Life is like that, darling boy. We don’t always get to do what we want to do the most. I still haven’t even met you and it’s been an agonizing two years since your Dad left Thailand to come back to Canada to work.

But on this, your fourth birthday, I am writing this letter so that someday you might be able to know that we love you always, always, always and we miss you every single day. You are talked about and prayed for every day. Your Mom sends photos to Gran and Grandpa in Houston and they send them to me and Jason, we can’t get enough of your amazing grin and heartbreakingly beautiful brown eyes! As much as we miss you and pray that we can all be closer someday soon, we know we are so lucky to know where you are and to see that you are healthy and happy and going to school.

We are grateful for every second of your life. There aren’t enough words in English or Thai to describe how much we love you. To tell you how precious you are to us.

We just pray that someday soon, we can show you.

With all the love in my heart,
Your Auntie S.

…to my sweet little Momma,

who has made mothering down the bones an art form to be gazed at, moved by and emulated by all who are touched by her, which is another way of saying all who have ever met her. Whose mothering has extended to her children’s children, to the mother of those children, even down to the one who never drew breath but lives every day nonetheless.

…and to every mother whose child is not in her arms tonight. Whose hearts beat painfully under a burden of love that has nowhere to go, whose throats are tight and sore and weary from the tears she is so tired of holding back, but must. Every mother whose children are not thriving, not growing, nor ever will come into the fullness of themselves. For these mothers especially, for whom the English language has no name, not widow, not orphan, not even “mother”, for these mothers I wish a Happy Mother’s Day. Because in the words of one of these very mothers, angel babies do count.

…and finally, to Nathaniel Jeremiah, for making me one of these mothers, for bringing me closer than I have ever come to my dream of motherhood. Whose brief, bright flare leaves an imprint on the darkness, so that when I lose my way all I must do is close my eyes…

…and remember.

Shine on, my sweet baby boy. Oh, how I love you. Happy Mother’s Day.

I have three brothers. And one sister. My oldest brother has always been like a rock star to me: dazzling and brilliant and heart-breakingly beautiful, but always just out of reach, no matter how close I got. My second oldest brother, the middle child, has been like a friendly but distant cousin for most of my life. He is funny and charming and I’ve always wished I knew him better, but our paths have just not intersected much.

And then there’s my sweet baby brother. Okay, technically, he’s only 18 months younger than me. Technically, our mother dressed us in hand-me-downs from our older cousins – who were twins. Technically, I was only one grade level above him for most of our school years. He was, to use the technical term, my absolute best friend growing up. Technically, thanks to the chaos and confusion involved in transferring from the British school system back into the Canadian system we actually spent the last two years of high school not only in the same year, but in the same [i]classes[/i]. All technicalities aside, he has always been summed up in my heart of hearts as my sweet baby brother.

When I looked up from my Biblical Archaeology Review to see him bouncing into the Starbucks today, duck-fuzz morning hair, kind blue eyes, sunny smile and all, the first thought I had was, “Sweet baby brother!”. Our plan had been to go get lunch, but we sat and talked like we’ve always, always been able to, laughing and teasing until he leaned forward, took my hands and said, very matter-of-fact-ly, “This chair is hurting my bum.” He makes me laugh like no one else.

We grabbed lunch and headed back to his apartment with the printer I scored for him (it came for just twenty bucks with the notebook computer Ishi bought for school just a couple weeks ago). He (my brother) has just started a course in AutoCAD and really needed one, so that worked out beautifully.

I wish I could adequately express what it does for my soul to just be able to hang out with him. To watch movies from the 80s with running commentary that only we really understand and crack up over. Between us, we spin the threads of childhood memories and our stories. Those pixie-stick, GI Joe, bike-riding days are so close when we’re together like that.

He showed me his AutoCAD homework, his impossibly cool diagrams of three-dimensional objects and how he figured out what he was doing wrong in a math question that took up half a page (!), while my chest just about puffed out like a proud little mama bird’s. Everything he does impresses me; his tenacity in problem-solving and his commitment to seeing things through inspire me and make me want to work on my own neglected dreams and projects.

He dozed off in front of Family Guy and The Simpsons (he works nights) while I set up and installed his new printer. The spring rain spattered outside the open balcony door and scented the air with dusky blue and bright green. As I half-listened to Stewie’s ranting on the TV and the deep, even breathing of my brother, I worked on updating all the software I’d installed for him last time I was there. The day slid past without moving, the saturated sky deepened and darkened unnoticed, and I felt steeped in peace.

No, he’s not a baby. He’s fought tremendous battles and he’s got quite a road in front of him. Few get to see him relaxed and unguarded and many would argue that he often sounds far from sweet. But they don’t see what I see. What I will always see.

My sweet baby brother.

To Daddy, on your 66th birthday.

For almost exactly six months, I will be exactly half your age. I try to imagine cramming my life full of the exceptional accomplishments you have achieved in the past 30 years, and the effort makes my head spin. You set a pace and a standard that has everyone in your vicinity marching in double time just to keep up! But if anyone ever thought being your child, colleague or friend would be exhausting, they’d soon learn that nothing could be further from the truth. Your mind exists on a plane most mortals can’t see for the clouds. Yet you delight in leading others in such a way that they come away being able to see something they couldn’t see before. They are just that much quicker and brighter. It’s like you have the Midas Touch, but instead of turning things into lifeless metal, your touch quickens thought and understanding, changing ideas set in stone into rivers of quicksilver finding new, impossible paths. Your children benefited so much from your incredible intellectual generosity. You played Mrs. Malaprop to our hysterical laughter and enriched our vocabulary. You asked, “What do you think?” whenever we just wanted an answer to write down and developed our reasoning. You gave me a reading list one year with 20 of the most thought-inducing, enlightening books I’d ever read before or have read since. If I wanted to be surprised by a unique political theory or take on religion I would ask you because I could never predict what position you would take!

Every morning when I open my closet doors, I glance up and smile. Sitting on the shelf are two teddy bears, hugging a heart between them. The words, “I love you” are stitched in gold on the heart. If it’s already starting to be a bad day, I reach up and squeeze the heart, and it says “I love you!”. Twice, you know. “For good measure”, like you said when you gave it to me four years ago on a hot summer night in Doha. You’d just come back from somewhere and I remember trying to act pleasantly surprised instead of moved to the point of tears to still be getting teddy bears from you even though I was staring 30 in the face. We sat in garden chairs out on the terrace, the hot breezes ruffling your curly hair and mine.

Just a few years later, you made one of my biggest dreams come true when one warm summer night in Texas you asked me just how badly I wanted to go to Trinity Western University. I poured out my heart to you about how desperately I wanted to go into Biblical Studies, how deeply I felt the need to pursue Scripture intellectually as well as spiritually. You looked at me thoughtfully and said “Then that’s what you’ll do.”

I wonder if I’ll ever be able to articulate the depth and breadth of what that enormous decision on your part has done for me and my entire life. Your fatih in God and your belief in my abilities overwhelms me. Your spiritual growth has been a tremendous joy and inspiration to me. How I treasure those soft, dark evenings in summer breezes listening to your stories and ideas, your thoughts and your music. No one wastes a minute when they spend time with you. Whether it’s your sister (the overwhelming majority of whom adore you), a brother, a son or daughter, a colleague, a friend or some lucky random soul you meet in a restaurant, your ability to connect with them and say the exact thing they need (not always want! but need) to hear is only one of the thousand wonderful things that you do every day without a second thought. The fact you deflect the praise these things bring you, saying “not from me, but through me,” and turning the true praise back to God only reinforces the beauty of your nature. God’s lovingkindness is truly visible in your life. What daughter could ever hope for a better example for her own life?

I’m only one of the countless people on this earth whose life is warmer and immeasurably brighter every day that you are here. Today, on your 66th birthday, I celebrate your life as a continuing gift to everyone blessed enough to be within your reach!

Happy Birthday, Daddy.