Dear Children,

You were two little rascals, that’s what you were!

Look at that food on your face. It’s everywhere and you didn’t even care.

I can see it in your eyes, the way you’re squeezing him tight. You two were in cahoots that day.

You left the table just like that, out to have fun any and every way you knew how.

You thought it would be a blast to gather your favorite things, bring them upstairs, and drop them one by one over the banister to the first level.

I let you do it, I’m not really sure why. Maybe it was a cold day and we were stuck inside, maybe I was tired, maybe there was no preschool that day, maybe I wanted to get dinner made without you under my feet, maybe I was just letting you off the hook for a while.

Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter to you. You had fun!

By the time you were done dropping all those things over the banister, the first level was a disastrous mess. Pokemon cards were strewn all around an Ariel purse, Barbie backpack, Tinkerbell figurine, and miniature Madeleine doll. A sheep that played a lullaby when you pulled the string and teddy bears you got as newborns were among stuffed animals thrown in the pile.

Between the mess at the lunch table and the mess at the bottom of the stairs, it was by far the messiest day we’d had to date.

But you know what? Your dirty little hands? Your dirty little faces? That disaster you made at the bottom of the stairs? It didn’t matter one bit that day, and it doesn’t matter one bit today. In fact, I’m glad I let you make that mess! I’m glad I took pictures to mark the occasion – the messiest, most disastrous day we’d ever had! Because life with little ones isn’t about keeping things neat, tidy and perfectly placed all day long. Life with little ones is about marking moments, living life to the fullest – while they’re still little.

Years have passed, and you’re not so little anymore. Your faces haven’t been that messy for years, and you’d think it was a lame idea to throw things over the banister to the first floor. You’re both way too cool for that.

Though it seems you’re all grown up big now, one day I’ll look back on pictures from this week, this month, and realize you were still – little kids. I’ll long for these days, I’ll wish I could make you little again. And most of what I’ll remember will be good.

So if I’m aware, if I’m living fully alive and in the moment now, I’ll take movies and capture more photographs that will remind me – your childhood was wonderful, I let you be kids, we lived life to the fullest, together. And it was good.

So thanks for getting down and dirty, creating disasters that remind me we’re alive. I’m blessed to share this beautifully messy life with you.

All my love,

Mama

*If you’d like to read more from my #31Days Letters to the Unthanked series, click here for the landing page where all the letters are listed and linked!

Dear Dr. Busch,

We met you before our first child was born. You were the pediatrician assigned to speak to our birthing class at the hospital. We were newbies to this parenting thing, and somehow we missed the memo we were supposed to be interviewing pediatricians prior to our baby’s birth. Thank goodness you were there that night, because we fell in love with you and decided we didn’t need to interview anyone else. You were it!

You came to the hospital for our son’s first pediatrician visit the day he was born, and conducted another exam before we were discharged. You returned to that same hospital when our daughter was born for her first check. And when our second baby girl was born years later, I was so excited to have you come for her newborn visit, but was informed after birth that your office didn’t make visits to that hospital anymore. The hospitalist just wasn’t the same as our Dr. Busch. I couldn’t wait to get into the office two weeks later so you could meet our baby, examine her, provide education and guidance, and answer questions I had.

For 10 years we saw you faithfully at the clinic for all three childrens’ well child visits. Sometimes we had to schedule appointments 2-3 months in advance because you were so booked, but you were worth the wait every time. I’ll never forget the way you entered the examination room. You were confident, friendly, funny, and quick on your feet. You called the kids by name and knew just what to say to break the ice. Your bedside manner was absolutely superb. I never doubted once your knowledge of pediatrics. When I asked a question, you had an answer. There was NO wishy-washy about you. You knew your stuff and you weren’t hesitant to share. There was a measured confidence in your voice that made me feel at peace. I always knew we were in good hands. You gave us your full attention and never cut the appointment short.

And when troubles arose with our childrens’ health or development, you handled it with grace and ease. You maintained your confidence, but added the perfect boost of warmth and understanding I needed as a parent. You went above and beyond to ensure thorough examinations, prescribed medicine, and made referrals. Your follow-up and memory of all the details was impeccable. As parents, you made us feel competent, able to handle anything that came our way. When I shared my concerns, when I cried, when I was stressed out, when I was sleep deprived, when I was worried or maybe even obsessing, when I just wanted all of this to be taken care of – you were there to share your wealth of knowledge and guide us in the right direction, and I knew you cared.

I’ll never forget the day you told us you were going to move and become a medical school professor at a University. I broke into tears immediately. It was a complete shock. I naively thought you’d be my kids’ pediatrician until they graduated from high school, and you’d barely gotten started with our not quite 1-year-old daughter. You noted your last day, and told us we should schedule any last minute appointments as soon as possible. I was fortunate to get in one last appointment for my son before you left. He was due for a check anyway, but I needed your reassurance we were on the right track with everything before we said good bye one last time.

I cried the day you told us we were leaving, I cried at that last appointment for my son, and I cried again when I got in the car to leave the clinic one last time. We’d been traveling quite a distance to get to you all those years, and I knew now that you were gone, we’d be switching practices. It took months, really, for me to realize the full implications of your absence. We searched long and hard for someone to fill your shoes (8 months to be exact), but fortunately, we finally found a new provider who is competent and caring and injects a little bit of humor at the right time, just like you did.

But we will NEVER forget you, Dr. Busch. You will never be replaced in our hearts. You were phenomenal. Your care, top notch.

Although we still miss you and think of you often, we are happy for you, know this is the right next step in your career, and sincerely wish you all the best in your now not-so-new position as medical school professor. Your medical students are beyond blessed to have you, and I rest easier knowing the next generation of pediatricians will have a little “Dr. Busch” in them.

May the fruits of your work come back to you a thousand fold,

Amy

*If you’d like to read more from my #31Days Letters to the Unthanked series, click here for the landing page where all the letters are listed and linked!

Dear Anonymous Disney Employee,

I was expecting our second baby. Grandparents offered to take our two-year-old son for a handful of days so I could join my husband on a business trip to Florida before baby was due in three months. I jumped at the opportunity to get some time away at one of my favorite cities, Orlando. Well, to put it more accurately, I jumped at the opportunity to get some time alone at my favorite American destination, Walt Disney World.

While my husband readied himself for days of work, I readied myself for a few days at Walt Disney World!

I was six months pregnant and all alone, but that didn’t stop me from visiting “The Happiest Place on Earth,” Disney’s Magic Kingdom. It’s not every day a Minnesotan gets to wear a sundress in January, so I was sitting sweetly in all my glory. Warm weather + blue skies + Magic Kingdom + freedom to do whatever my heart desired = recipe for a great day!

It was, in fact, a perfect day. I walked at my own pace, ate when I wanted to, stopped and listened to Belle read a story in a hidden wooded area, and took in every ride that was safe and appropriate for a woman who was six-months pregnant. The Main Street parade was, as always, one of the biggest highlights of my day. I snapped some shots there, and asked a stranger to take my picture by the castle to mark the memory for a lifetime.

I didn’t think the day could get any better.

But there’s one anonymous Disney employee who turned my perfect day into a magical day. I was in Fantasyland, by far my favorite area of Magic Kingdom. I really wanted to get on The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh ride, but the line was ridiculously long and I wasn’t willing to wait 90 minutes for Tigger and Pooh. I went to grab a Fast Pass so I could come back later within a designated timeframe and walk right in without waiting. But when I got to the Fast Pass kiosk to insert my card, the Disney employee attending the kiosk looked at my pregnant belly, smiled, handed me a Fast Pass that was valid upon receipt, and said “have a magical day!”

My heart was stirred. I smiled, said “thank you,” and walked right in! The Pooh ride was sweet and whimsical, and I was convinced beyond a doubt – the day was truly magical.

So thank you anonymous Disney employee, whoever you are, for turning my perfect day into a magical day. Because going above and beyond is what Disney does best. That’s why it’s called “The happiest place on earth.”

May all your days be magical,

Amy

*If you’d like to read more from my #31Days Letters to the Unthanked series, click here for the landing page where all the letters are listed and linked!

Dear Patti,

It’s been years since we’ve seen each other, and this letter is long overdue. I’m living with no regrets, going back and filling in the blanks. So today, I want to thank you for all you did for me, my husband, and our baby boy.

I’m still grateful that our friends, your son and daughter-in-law, knew you had room to care for one more child in your home. They suggested you as an option when we announced we were looking for child care. When I brought our first born baby boy for a visit at your house just weeks after birth, I knew right away he’d be in good hands. From that moment on, I felt much more comfortable about this day care world with which I was completely unfamiliar.

Before I knew it, twelve weeks had passed, my maternity leave had come to an end. I was due back at a full-time job as a speech-language pathologist, and I’ll be honest, I had absolutely no idea what I was in for.

You see, my mom worked full-time my entire life. I know it was stressful for her to work and be a mom of three, but she definitely seemed to manage. So I spent a lifetime ASSUMING that I, too, would maintain a full-time career when I had kids. Working part-time or staying at home were not options I’d considered.

Little did I know, I’d experience a rude awakening when I went back to work after my first baby was born. I spent the first year and a half of my baby boy’s life working full-time. It didn’t take me long to realize I really didn’t want to work full-time, at all. Considering I’d spent a lifetime assuming I would work full-time like my mom, this revelation was a surprise, a bend in the road I definitely hadn’t expected. So I spent that year and a half more stressed out than not about my work-life balance, wishing I could cut back, but knowing it wasn’t financially feasible…yet.

I’ll never forget, after I had worked full-time for a year and a half, God blessed my husband with a raise that was exactly the amount of money we’d need for me to stay home 1 day/week. Believe it or not, his raise was exactly 1/5 of my income. So I took a .8 position (4 days/week) and have worked part-time ever since. I’ve worked the whole range of outside of the home employment. 1-2-3-4-5 days a week, I’ve tried it all except being a full-time stay at home mom.

I’ve gotten a little sidetracked with the back story, but I shared all of this with you for a reason, Patti.

I want you to know that your your love and care for our baby son that year and a half was incredibly appreciated. I’m sure there were days I left your house crying as I pulled away and our baby son was standing at your door. But when I think of you, when I think of the time our son spent at your house, all I think of is GOOD. You were loving, you were kind, and you kept our son safe and secure in your warm, comfortable, and always welcoming home. You provided age-appropriate stimulation of his development, were consistent about nap and bottle schedules, and always ensured he got plenty of fresh air. Your communication with us was just right. But most of all, it was your love, your heartfelt care for our son, that I appreciated so much. The truth is, it felt more like I was bringing him to “grandma’s house” than daycare.

So thank you for being a rock for our family that year and a half. I couldn’t have made it through those days without you. The comfort I experienced, knowing our baby son was in your loving care while I worked full-time, was tremendous. While I was battling this full-time gig, working and waiting for the day I could cut back, you were there. Steady, stable, ready to love, ready to care, always there. And for that, I’ll be eternally grateful.

Counting every day we had with you as a blessing,

Amy

*If you’d like to read more from my #31Days Letters to the Unthanked series, click here for the landing page where all the letters are listed and linked!

Dear Selmer & Anita,

I savored the moments we had. Our time together was precious, sacred. You were my husband’s grandparents, so I didn’t get a lifetime with you, but I treasure the years I got. The imprint you left on my heart is irreplaceable, the legacy you left, undeniable.

You demonstrated the fruit of the Spirit like no other. Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control flowed from your lives. Neither of you ran short of a single one.

Selmer, you were kind, funny, and wise. You were a man of unwavering faith that stood the test of time through all your years as pastor. Seth and I had the great blessing of being married by you, and two out of our three children were baptized by you. My heart sank when I realized our third child would be the only one NOT baptized by you. What beautiful gifts you gave. Thank you so much. When it was time for you to go, Seth and I were privileged to visit you in the most beautiful hospice house I’ve ever seen. It was warm and welcoming, and peace was present in a way I can still call up today. Your family sang over you, and we talked as if you heard every word we said. We hugged and kissed you one last time. Tears of sadness and joy streamed as we walked out of the room, knowing your passing to the eternity you so firmly believed in, was drawing near.

Anita, you were dignified, lovely, and gracious. You were a woman of faith, a quiet but steadfast faith. You graced the room with your presence, made your way around a small crowd effortlessly, and knew how to make a person feel comfortable under any circumstance. Christmas and birthday cards arrived adorned with your delicate, precise, and beautiful handwriting. And your lemon meringue? It was to die for, the best I’ve ever had. Sweet delights were plentiful in your house, ready to be pulled out at a whim when we dropped by any Saturday afternoon. You rolled cookies and lefse paper thin, the first bite of either, a moment we all reveled in. My maternal grandmother passed when I was 10, my paternal grandmother passed in my first year of college, just weeks after Seth and I started dating the spring of 1995. And I met you in the fall of 1995 – your entrance into my life was perfectly timed. My two biological grandmothers had passed, but I was blessed with a third, you, who I happily called grandma.

But there’s more to your story than baptisms, lemon meringue, beautiful home-goings, and Christmas cards adorned with delicate handwriting.

Yes, Selmer and Anita, the most precious gift you gave was your model of marriage. Bound by faith, you were living examples of what it means to love and respect. Your commitment to one another was unwavering. You proved all the statisticians wrong when you fulfilled your promise ’till death do us part, and made us believe it really is possible to have love that lasts a lifetime.

Thank you for helping us believe when the world wants us to doubt.

So Seth and I would like to model our marriage after yours. Our dream, to pass along your legacy of loving, committed marriage that lasts a lifetime – for our children, for our grandchildren, for our great-grandchildren and beyond.

Grandma snuggles in tight. She rests two fingers quietly on her husband’s belt. Grandpa stands proudly next to his grandson and granddaughter-in-law for a picture. Their first great-grandbaby is due to arrive in three short months; their daughter’s behind the camera, and her husband watches from the sidelines, smiling. The story is being written, it’s a beautiful passing of the torch from one generation to the next.

In loving memory,

Amy

*If you’d like to read more from my #31Days Letters to the Unthanked series, click here for the landing page where all the letters are listed and linked!