Normally, I don't post my Christmas letter on the blog, but alas the flu captured my last lingering braincells. Most of my Christmas card recipients get the blessing of two FIRST pages of the annual sappy, nostalgic, long-winded letter and so to correct my flu-induced error, I post here the full monty. Pardon me for the gushing and moosh that I can't seem to suspend for the sake of a simple re-capturing of our year. What follows is the ranting of a wife and momma who can't get enough of her family or her God. I apologize in advance :-) Merry Christmas to all!
Yours,
Sarah
Dear Ones,
Here
we are—you and I—joined yet again by ink and parchment to catch up on the
chronicles of full lives. Like looking
into a star-filled sky where a million lights litter the heavens, our lives are
so full, it is hard to locate only the larger constellations to share. But do come sit with me a spell; we’ll find
the Milky Way together.
Twice
in one year I’ve felt a tearing that left me breathless, left me aching: Nate started his seventh grade school year,
and Cort left the world of single digits for the greater glory of being a ten
year old. (Don’t laugh at my melodrama!
When they get married, I’m gonna curl up and die!) How could it have happened so quickly? Surely it was just yesterday we were
photographing Nathan tangled in wooden cranberry strands. And only moments ago, wasn’t I still hoisting
Corton about on my hip? To write these
words—that I have only five and a half years left with Nate at home
full-time—seems a stain, a blot of black ink on this page. They don’t linger long enough, do they? And I lose my breath thinking of it all.
For
this reason, and a few others, we decided to sell our home at Hood Acres. Hers was an aesthetic beauty we may never
again find (or have the energy to create ourselves), and yet she was a
demanding lady to love. Much of our time
was taken in keeping her. But sweet boys
growing into strong men? They don’t
wait. So, in a Gideon’s-fleece-step-of-faith,
we put her on the market trusting God would make it clear if we were to let her
go. Within a week, 241 Hood Acres was
sold for full asking price. That is a
pillar we will look back on, stand on, in moments of nostalgia. (And there have
been a few.) We left more than neighbors there, we left a family. And sometimes the large constellations hold
great hurt, don’t they?
Under
a grey sky, cider and cocoa in hands, my sister and I attended the Kris Kringle
Market this year where a friend was selling beautiful word signs. I selected one that said, “We may not have it
all together, but together, we have it all.”
It’s corny, I know, but the four of us are together, and isn’t that, in
the end, what makes home? The ones you
love? I believe so. Now, we find
ourselves nestled in a castle-like bungalow with lovely oak floors and windows
insisting the sun come in each day for a visit.
45 Wiley Road begins a new chapter for our family—one where we celebrate
and seize every moment as an irreplaceable gift.
I
should tell you that Nathan had his first taste of tackle football this
year. He faced boys twice his size with
stoic courage and quite a bit of Olver grit.
He also continues to play any other sport he can find like Ultimate
Frisbee and airsoft. (What happened to
the rule about no guns we made when they were babies?) He’s still an avid reader; I find myself
sharing more and more of the books I read with Nate. And if you want to know a
football fact? Nate’s your man. This
summer he was trusted to help as a junior counselor at Canal Lake Bible
Camp. He worked. Hard.
Mopping, moving chairs, etc. . . . and perhaps a few pranks. (Nathan, how was the youth pastor’s car
wrapped in cellophane again?) When his
Nana decided to go to Brazil on a mission’s trip, Nathan began Paracords
for Paradise, a survival bracelet business that helps mission
outreaches. A passion for a good joke, a willingness to do whatever is
necessary to help in any situation, a viral love of football, and a firm
commitment to following Christ seem to sum up the heart of our prince.
Then
there is the issue of our other prince—the one that is sometimes difficult to
see because unlike his black and red clothed brother, Corton prefers camouflage
and browns. When Nate colored his hair
“Bulldog Red” this year, Cort was asked if he wouldn’t like to color his too.
He replied, “Nope. I like mine just the
way it is—the color of dirt.” A
God-breathed love of the earth marinates in this boy’s marrow, of that there is
no question. Erecting forts from found
woodland fodder, collecting colorful leaves, whispering to wild dogs until
they’ve been tamed, sketching a tree—these are the great loves of our
youngest. The spring found us plopped in
patches of grass cheering as Cort flew across soccer fields. A perfect day for Cort this past autumn was
when he claimed he spent “five hours doing science” which in reality meant he
was down at the creek digging for crawdads, catching minnows, salamanders and
mud puppies. Cort loves all things
Abraham Lincoln, John Deer, Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer. He tended our neighbors’ dogs while they were
away, and regularly attempts to catch or at least touch wild birds and
squirrels. And in those moments when
your spirit may be a bit down, but you think you’ve concealed it well, it will
be Corton that shows up with a beautiful blue bird feather or sprig of Indian
paintbrush to cheer you. That is
Corton: the woodland spirit that brings
beauty and laughter wherever he wanders.
For
Jeff and I the days are spent fire-fighting/EMT’ing (Jeff) and teaching (me). There was another Spartan race, a thumb
surgery, and HONEYBEES to occupy Jeff this year. For myself, there was The Writer’s Guild, clothing
drives, fundraising for charities, and coordinating a wedding. There were family trips to waterfalls,
kayaking the French Broad, Jeremy Camp, Winter Jam and Celebrate Freedom
concerts, (because when you have kids you attend concerts again no matter how
long the line to get in may be) and a long awaited trip to Canada where we
celebrated Jeff’s mom’s 60th birthday as well as reunited with
Jeff’s brothers, their children, and many dear friends. Corton was especially pleased to have his
cousin Aidan attend camp with him for the first time this year. (We hope it
becomes a tradition.)
Time
has this way of spinning, life has this way of perpetual motion, boys have this
way of growing, and Jeff and I just try to keep up with it all. I’ve traded Goodnight Moon for The Hobbit
and Sherlock Holmes, squirt guns
for airsoft guns, and sweet smelling babes for babbling boys that sometimes
smell like river trout. And for all the
wealth, all the wonder of the wide, wide world, I’d not trade one moment of
life with our family. Of course there
are sorrows, moments when we wonder, when we question, when we seek something
more. The phone rings, a friend has lost
their child, and we are left asking why. “For now we see through a glass, darkly; but
then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am
known. “ (I Cor. 13:12) We don’t
understand everything now—only portions are ours for the grasping. But there will come a day when our faith will
be as sight, when we will fully gain understanding. Until then, I say with Mary, “May it be unto
me, Father, as you have said.” And we
echo Joshua’s heart, as for us and our house, we keep serving, keeping holding
fast to the Creator, the Father of heavenly lights—the Father of all those
constellations. In the end, that’s what
Christmas is to our family . . . a reminder of the Jesus that sprinkled the
stars that span our little world. May
your world be full of His light this season.
With love,
The Olver Family
Us in a Nutshell
Kayaks,
hikes, rivers, football, tree climbing, airsoft,Canal Lake Bible Camp, honeybees, educating at home,
firefighting, laughing, family, and God.
