encouragement

Dear K, 10 years old

September 13, 2016 by Stephanie Sheaffer 3 Comments

Dear K,

I wanted so desperately to make your double-digit birthday special.

Ten, after all, is something special. As you put it, you have now lived an entire decade. Ten more of the same and you’ll be twenty – in college or married or traveling the world.

When I look back, I have no regrets about cherishing your childhood. I really did. We were inseparable from the beginning. I nursed you and carried you and studied your long lashes, rosebud lips, and perfect complexion. You slept in my bed, breathed on my shoulder, even came to work with me.

Watching you become a young lady has been a beautiful mystery. You are parts of me and parts of your dad – but you are mostly all your own.

One of the first words that comes to mind when I think of you is “responsible.” Also: “mature.” I trust you with a myriad of tasks because you are diligent, capable, and careful.

During my pregnancy, when I was drowning in morning sickness this past winter, you would creep out of bed early to clean the entire house and set the table for breakfast. It’s just the kind of thing you do. To say you are a huge help would be a major understatement.

You are still a math wiz – racing through problems with a kind of joy.

I’ve heard it said that people who are good at math also have an appreciation for symmetry and beauty. This holds true for you. You have an eye for artistry and, as a result, I often enlist your help when I am doing photo shoots for my writing pieces.

You’re also the resident “vacation packer” for your sisters. You meticulously pick out coordinating outfits for each day of the week for your sisters.

When I can’t figure out how to unlock the highchair tray or where to hang a picture frame, I call your name down the hall. Your mechanical mind instinctively knows how things work.

Your favorite food is smoothies (do you ever tire of them?) and you are a master at making them. Whipped cream, frozen mangos, frozen strawberries – voila! You might usurp your father in his role as champion smoothie creator.

This summer, you joined swim team for the first time. Most of the swimmers had years of experience behind them. You didn’t know any of the strokes nor did you know how to dive. With admiration, I watched as you grew tan and toned. I marveled at your persistence and courage.

Last year, you performed a poem at a statewide Speech Meet. Your voice was clear; your expressions vivid. That blue ribbon was well-deserved.

Other things about you:

You doodle.
You love to hike.
You like listening to music.
You prefer to wear athletic clothes.
You say you’ll probably get your doctorate degree.
You are the official spider eliminator in our house when your dad is away.
You have a travel-themed bedroom, which is apropos because you love to GO places. You tell people that our year on the road was the best year of your life.

When I asked you a million times what you wanted for your birthday, you insisted that your baby brother was your birthday gift. The first thing you do in the morning is sneak into our bedroom and smile at him. When you get home from school, you rush in to greet him – but not before taking a quick shower “so he doesn’t get sick.”

Same thing about Christmas. “All I’ve ever wanted for a few Christmases back was a baby…so my Christmas is already complete.” Those words are not empty either. You live and breathe them.

Your baby brother is two weeks old now – fresh and new. I am recovering and nursing around the clock. On your birthday, we had no party. I wanted to make you a banner, to fill your bedroom with balloons, to take you out to a movie, to discuss your dreams and toast your strengths. But that wasn’t to be.

Ever patient and understanding, you took it all in stride. We had smoothies and ribs for dinner – and you held your brother close.

Thanks for your grace, your goodness, and your tenderheartedness. I honestly don’t know what we’d do without you.

Happy Birthday, my brave and beautiful girl. It’s been ten glorious years – and I know the next ten will be even better.

Dear Tim, 36 years old

June 22, 2016 by Stephanie Sheaffer 2 Comments

Dear Tim,

When you slipped a ring on my finger fourteen and a half years ago, I had no hesitation. None.

“‘Til death due us part” seemed much too short even then.

You have only gotten better with age – smarter, funnier, wiser, and more successful.

A man of projects, you have the very unique trait of being adaptable in both indoor and outdoor pursuits.

When it comes to real estate, I always tell people that you are well-suited for the profession. One of your favorite aspects of the job is negotiating and you do it with such brilliance and grace. You listen attentively, but also stand your ground – and your clients thank you for it. Past clients have remarked about your “constant availability,” “high level of integrity,” and “persistence.” All true. Call or text Tim at 2am and he’ll probably respond within an hour. Or 2 minutes. Probably two minutes.

You are a wiz on the computer. Web design, digital advertising, search engine marketing, tech everything. All of our friends and relatives have you on speed dial and you can usually come to the rescue with any question. Businesses and non-profits that hire your company for web work are pleased because you listen well, over-deliver, and are creative with solutions. Also – you actually answer your phone. A somewhat lost art these days.

After a certain amount of desk hours, you crave the mountains and the solitude of nature.

This year, you planted no fewer than 20 trees in our yard (including apple, peach, plum, grapefruit, lemon, lime, blood orange, and pomegranate) and started a vegetable garden. Our table has been garnished with plump tomatoes, fragrant swiss chard, and crunchy sugar snap peas. Your green thumb is in full effect.

Sitting down isn’t really your thing. You prefer planting grape vines, installing floors, and wheelbarrowing soil to more sedentary entertainment options.

At home, you work ceaselessly – staying up after dark to scrub the pots & pans and to read your Bible. You are an expert tucker-inner, bug-slayer, and barbecue griller. Our girls adore you and often cry when you leave the house (even for quick errands around town).

Up for almost any adventure, you make a great travel companion. It’s true you leave the details to me and sometimes get grumpy during the packing process, but you will say yes to almost any destination. New food and new places – we haven’t been everywhere, but it’s on our list.

I like that we can talk for hours about absolutely everything – including business start-ups and ideas. We went away for a miniature “babymoon” at a resort in June sans kids…and you didn’t blink when I pulled out a 4-page outline of discussion topics (with roman numerals). We’re just not the sunbathing-by-the-pool kind of people.

Don’t get me wrong – you are adventurous, spontaneous, and fun too. You like hiking, running, mountain biking, four-wheeling, fishing, and beer/wine tasting. You make people laugh with your extremely honest observations. You are a man of fierce friendships and lots of connections.

When I asked you what you wanted for your birthday, you said the word “productive” – and I knew exactly what you meant. You like to work (in the best possible way) and you know the joy that working brings.

As 35 quietly slips out the back door, I know that the second half of your thirties will be even better than the first. If I could nominate you for every “40 under 40” list, I would. You are bound for greatness – always have been. I saw glimpses of it at 19 when I walked down the aisle. Today, I’m still marveling at the man you are.

Cheers to 36!

Dear K, 9 years old

October 3, 2015 by Stephanie Sheaffer Leave a Comment

K age 9

“I can’t bear it.” You folded your hands over your face in misery.

We were reading the final chapters of “Charlotte’s Web” and, though this is probably our third time reading it, your tender heart is not unmoved.

You have always felt things deeply – observing tiny details in nature and faces. You wish for a world with all hellos and no good-byes.

You are a girl of projects. When we moved into our new-old house, you did not hesitate to pick up paint rollers and hammers. In fact, you know far more about floor installation than I do – because you spent hours side-by-side with your dad – even using the saw on the back porch. You also painted your room – changing the walls from a sunny yellow to a clean white.

Now that your dad is scheming and dreaming about gardens, you are right there beside him. You want to be there at Lowe’s and Home Depot, picking out the seeds and then coming home to dig holes in the soil. At this point, you probably prefer the outdoors to the indoors, wouldn’t you say? Happiest in shorts and a tank top, with the sun on your shoulders and the breeze in your covetable curls.

Sitting still is not your forte – especially indoors. You yearn for the backyard and the mountains. You got that from your dad.

Your bedroom is travel-themed because you do love to GO. Anywhere. No matter where someone is going on two wheels or four, you are eager to join. Away on adventures – you like new places. On your dresser, you have a big metal Eiffel Tower and two genuine dolls from Brazil. I know you dream of going to both places. Especially Paris. I want to take you there and see it in life-size.

This year, you are soaring in math. You fly through the problems, often with classical music playing in the background (by request).

I’m reading “The Mysterious Benedict Society” aloud and we are all on the edge of our seats. You like audiobooks too – especially adventure stories. Of course.

You are unafraid of spiders. You like having people over. You tell us you wish we could buy an RV again to go to new places. You like to swim and hike, to bike and organize. You like to orchestrate, but not with music. You like to transform ordinary routines into occasions – glittering candles, cloth napkins, and bouquets in vases.

When it comes to visualizing things in 3-D, you have me beat. You surprise me by remembering walls and boulders and mailboxes. No wonder you like LEGOs so much. Sometimes I wonder if you will be an architect.

Nine is different than I thought it would be. You are far older than I remember being at 9 – more thoughtful. Is it possible that, at nine, you are already at the brink of growing up? I see glimpses of the future you – probably with a backpack on your shoulders, a plane ticket in your hands.

Wherever you go, remember who you are – loved beyond measure. Remember that you always have a place right here in my heart and in my arms. You can always come home and I will read you adventure stories.

35 reasons

June 22, 2015 by Stephanie Sheaffer 1 Comment

Nineteen years ago, we were standing in my parent’s kitchen – pink tile and dirty dishes. The house was empty and you leaned over to take a kiss from my lips. My first kiss.

A few days later, I told my parents, “I’m dating Tim Sheaffer.” Matter-of-fact. I don’t remember there being a big discussion. The rule was age sixteen and I was nine months over.

For my seventeenth birthday, you surprised me with a trip up Mt. Lemmon. I wore a body-skimming sparkly navy evening dress with a slit up the thigh – you had on a sweater vest and sunglasses.

On your nineteenth, I planned a scavenger hunt all around town – with clues left in library books and park benches. Final destination: a resort for dinner. (I had a buy one, get one 50% off coupon from the local entertainment book).

I wish we had pictures from those birthdays. It wasn’t as easy with film cameras and cell phone cameras weren’t invented yet.

There have been many other birthdays together – exactly as many as we’ve had apart.

But most of our birthdays have grown dim in my memory. They don’t stand out from other days as our twenties have passed into our thirties.

It’s not that we’ve lost our romance – we’ve actually found the true meaning of it. You know me better than anyone else; and vice versa. And yet, we’re still a mystery to each other. There are still moments – many moments – I look at you and think incredulously, “you’re even more amazing than I thought.”

There’s that famous poem about counting the ways of love and I always think the second line should be a question instead of a statement. How can I possibly count them?

The way you pace on the telephone.
The way you can spend all day working – hammering, tiling, assembling – and end with a huge smile on your face. Projects fill you up.
The way you don’t care at all about sports teams and tournaments – and both of our lives are better for it.
The way you write numbers on whiteboards and we stay up late with business ideas volleying between us.
The way you read your Bible every night, under the covers beside me.
The way you flip pizza dough like a famous chef in Italy.
The way you cut mangos, watermelon, and onions with amazing precision and beauty.
The way you know all about birth and breastfeeding – and can articulate best practices.
The way you do so many push-ups I can’t keep track.
The way you can fix absolutely everything – from a broken bike to a broken heart.
The way you know that you really can’t because only HE can.
The way you can negotiate with equal parts charm, intellect, and stubbornness – while still sticking to the truth.
The way you care deeply about the church – enough to argue about it.
The way you listen to audiobooks on 3x speed and actually comprehend it.
The way you do crazy dances to make your daughters smile.
The way you strike up conversations with the elderly and white-haired beauties always tell me I have “a good one.”
The way you enjoy the work you do.
The way you chomp on raw kale and have taught our girls to do the same.
The way you brush and floss until your teeth gleam – pure whiteness.
The way you down cod liver oil like it’s no big deal. Even the lumpy chocolate kind.
The way you can envision architecture, maps, and grids in your head.
The way you can put together IKEA furniture without even looking at the directions. That’s a super-power right there.
The way you (mostly) stay away from social media, but you still understand it.
The way you can answer any technology question with a snap of your fingers – as if by magic.
The way you don’t wait to take a risk. You think and you jump.
The fact that you would drive an RV around the country for a year, with two babies in the backseat.
The fact that you still are open to a baby #4 – despite the chaos.
The way you almost always say “yes” to my new business ideas and push me right into my dreams.
The way you take care of our house and our vehicles so diligently.
The way you walk fast – like I do. Or so people say.
The way you can hike seven miles with a baby on your back.
The way you can go out the door and run a half-marathon without training.
Your hands.
Your eyes.
Your heart.

Today, you are 35. But I could keep counting. I will keep counting. You are everything I ever wanted — and so much more.

If Compassion Experience Comes to Your City

May 21, 2015 by Stephanie Sheaffer Leave a Comment

If Compassion Experience comes to your city – GO.

Make a reservation or walk-in. Bring a handful of kids. Let them listen to the lives of four real children in Bolivia, Uganda, Kenya, and the Philippines.

You and your children will each be given an iPod and a headset. Then, you’ll be invited to walk through 4,000 square feet of interactive space to “see the children’s homes, walk through replicas of schools and markets, and hear life-changing stories of hope—all from the perspective of a child whose life began in poverty.”

I took our two older daughters (ages 6 and 8) when the tour buses stopped in Tucson last weekend. My eyes filled with tears as I listened – and what a gift to watch my wide-eyed daughters as they wrestled through the heartache.

One of the most powerful aspects of the experience is that a video is played at the conclusion of each story – featuring the adult whose life the story was based on. So inspiring to see how far these young people have come and how much they have persevered – despite huge obstacles!

We can’t all go overseas, but, thanks to Compassion’s innovative bus tour, we can “experience another world without leaving (our) own.”

Side Note – Compassion International is a non-profit that our family actively supports because of our research on non-profits. In addition to the interviews our family has conducted with 40+ non-profits, we have done our research on Charity Navigator, America’s largest independent charity evaluator. Compassion has a 4-star rating – the highest rating possible! – and is also on their list of Charities With the Most Consecutive 4-Star Ratings. You can see how it compares to other similar non-profits on the CN website. They are doing important work around the world!

UPCOMING CITIES FOR 2015:

May 29-June 1 Salt Lake City, UT
May 29-June 1 Woodbury, MN
June 5-8 Riverside, CA
June 5-6 Blaine, MN
June 11-14 Bedford, NH
June 17-20 Mineral City, OH
June 19-22 Vicksburg, MS
June 24-27 Shirleysburg, PA
June 26-29 Clinton, MS
July 3-6 Billings, MT
July 3-6 Farmington, MO
July 10-13 Peoria, IL
July 13-19 Houston, TX
July 30-August 1 Kennewick, WA
August 5-8 Muskegon, MI
August 14-17 San Angelo, TX
August 14-17 Portege, MI
August 21-24 Carmel, IN
MANY MORE CITIES!

When I Am Old

October 30, 2014 by Stephanie Sheaffer Leave a Comment

“When you are 99, you’re still going to be running,” my 8-year-old says to me out-of-the-blue before I head out for a 5 o’clock run. I nod my head, ponytail bobbing and eyes twinkling, yes.

“If you get old and can’t read anymore, I am going to come to your house and read you stories.” Please do.

“I’m going to remember that you love to read and you love to travel.” Perfect.

Remember, too, how much I adore you.