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The Last of the Lasts

August 28, 2022 By Kristin Saatzer 14 Comments

The speeding bullet train called time has stopped me in my tracks today as I wipe tears, giggle, and simmer in nostalgia. This morning, I took the LAST first day of school pictures. Never again will I take a picture of a boy of mine starting his first day of school. My baby is beginning his senior year, and wow, senior year is tough on a mama’s heart.

This “boy” of mine, our caboose, blasted into our lives over eighteen years ago. He was a tiny tornado with bright eyes, looking for mischief. Once he was mobile, his three older brothers learned that no LEGO creation, no game left out until later, no crayons or pencils were safe. Everything was fair game. He often tried to escape from the house to “break into” the neighbors, opening their doors and running right through. I once caught him chewing through a sealed block of cheese. Another time, a weeks-old, hard-as-a-rock gingerbread house. Climbing was a favorite past-time as he was an expert cabinet scaler. We had to hide bungee cords after catching him standing on our Golden Retriever, trying to connect a bungee from her collar to the ceiling fan. Micah enjoyed taking apart machinery, beds, computers, really anything that was put together.

When he was quiet, there was trouble. And when he wasn’t quiet? This kid loved hearing his own voice. The louder, the more delight. He would squeal, appreciating the echo when we were in large stores. My boy found fun in yelling his order (with a speech impediment) at food servers which made dining out a joy.

Discipline? He didn’t care about any stinkin’ discipline! My husband often arrived home from work to find me in tears, sometimes in the fetal position. I did not think I would survive this child. We worried about Micah’s future; and felt the odds were strong that a someday criminal was inhabiting this little body. His brother, Noah, tried to comfort us all when he said, “Don’t worry, most criminals are quiet.”

He could be deeply charming, especially to strangers. People at sporting events were his favorite targets. He would sidle up to someone enjoying a snack when my back was turned (or God-forbid, watching a brother play in his game) and charm them out of their licorice or hot dog or half-eaten anything. It was impressive. Sometimes if their back was turned, he would steal their half-eaten anything.

Despite the tempest, I saw my Micah’s sweetness in the rare moments of still waters (not just when a low-grade fever was involved). The tender soul who loved to help, please, and cuddle. My baby would always be just that, my baby. My last. So much of parenting is capturing the firsts: the first smile, first steps, the first day of school, the first dance… but with this last boy, I have intentionally tried to capture the lasts. These lasts are difficult to catch, so easy to miss. Did I recognize at the moment that it would be the last time he took a bed apart or yelled at a waiter? No. But more so, did I sense the last time I rocked or held him on my lap that this was it? His last time to wear his favorite dark blue shirt with a race car on the front. His last time to build a hot wheel track. Or when he presented me with the final crayon masterpiece to hang on our fridge. Thousands of little-boy moments that all come to an end. Continue Reading

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Faithful

May 20, 2021 By Kristin Saatzer 6 Comments

“God is faithful, who has called you into fellowship with his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.”

2 Thessalonians 3:3

 

 

It was a perfect day—one of the best days of my life, May 1, 2021. My oldest son, Samuel, got married to his darling girl. And now I have a daughter-in-love. After raising four boys, my heart is overjoyed that Lauren is now officially a Saatzer. 

 

 In the time preceding, I had moments when I thought I would not attend the wedding due to my months and months-long health battle. Yet, God was gracious to me; I felt fabulous that day and savored each miraculous moment. 

 

The week before the big event, I took the photo albums out of the hall closet and spread them on the floor. I spent quite a bit of time on memory lane, lost in happy moments with my little Sammy. Those were golden days, my little buddy and me.

 

We spent much of our afternoons reading. Our favorite book was I Love You Forever. I even made up a song to go with it. I often cried when I read it to him as I imagined him moving away and starting his own family, like the boy in the book. I knew it would arrive quicker than I expected. And it did, with lightning speed. 

 

As he grew, three brothers added more chaos and fun to the mix. 

 

Sam’s strong personality kept me on my toes, and I made many mistakes. He knew who he was from his earliest days and, I am stronger in character for having mothered such a strong-willed son.

 

We remained close. Until …

 

The difficult upper teen years.

 

As I turned the pages of the albums from Sam’s middle school years and beyond, I was awash with wonderful and intense painful memories. 

 

Times when I thought I had lost him. Times of experimentation with independence, rebellion, and struggle. Times when I was not his favorite person, nor he mine.

 

 I took in the pictures of drop-off day at college, all six of us bawling.

 

Little by little, Sammy and I made our way back to one another. As he matured in his twenties so did our relationship. It changed- less mothering and more advising. It was a good fit. 

 

And now, our relationship is shifting again. 

 

As I gazed at our family photos, I realized that my son and I were standing on the precipice. Days away from pledging his whole self to another. This woman, not mom, will be the most important female in his life. By God’s design, that is the way it is supposed to be. 

 

Sammy wrote me a letter and gave it to me on his wedding day. Among the beautiful words, He told me I was his first love. When I look back at the heartbreaking, messy moments between we two, never would I have imagined us landing here. Such affection. Such love. Such grace. The relationship for which I prayed.

 

As I closed the albums and hauled them back to the closet, my mind turned to my faithful Savior. Through all the years, through all the tough mom stages with my boy-turned-man, Jesus kept calling me and reminding me to be faithful right back. To Him. To my Sammy. To all my family. To my life. 

 

To God be the glory.

 

“I love you forever, I like you for always, as long as I’m living my baby you’ll be. “

 

 

 

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Just a Little Longer?

May 28, 2019 By Kristin Saatzer 4 Comments

I knew he did not want to face his mother falling apart that early September morning (or any day, really). But there I was in the kitchen, in my oh-so-attractive green robe, sporting wild bedhead, willing the tears to stop. I watched as my beloved third son pushed back his chair from the table and carried his cereal bowl to the sink.

Senior Year was already picking up steam. I learned with sons one and two how this final year of high school feels like it’s only two weeks long. During this kitchen-moment, as I observed my boy move through ordinary actions, I was struck anew with pointed awareness that this season of my life with Josiah would soon be finished. Emotions rushed to the surface as I pondered how unready I was to say good-bye to the everyday-ness of mothering this young man.

“Please let me mother you a little longer!”

No, I did not say these words aloud because, you know, psycho momma in the morning and all. Yet, this desire to hold onto him, to care for him, lives in me daily.

In reality, not much “mommying” happens the last year of high school. Senior Year Mom is a secretary, a cook, a cheerleader, and a money dispenser, who cries a lot.

Senior Year Mom takes morbid delight when her kid gets sick or needs her to take him to the dentist or doctor. She relishes the time spent together doing anything because he is gone so darn much and is terribly independent. She delights in his presence and hangs on his every word. Even when he rolls his eyes or gets irritated with her when he loses his own car keys, Senior Year Mom doesn’t mind. As much.

I savor the small moments: hearing him laugh with his little brother, listening to him playing the piano as I cook dinner, and watching him greet the dog as he steps through the door.

If I could measure the hours spent in prayer for this son and his three brothers, it might equal months. If I could hold the tears that fell while on my knees, they might fill a small pond.

I prayed for my sons to be men of character. That they would have hearts for the broken. That God would shape them and refine them. But I did not want them to undergo refinement by fire. My plan was not to fill a pond with my tears. I wanted safe, happy, wholesome lives for my precious ones. Yes, I knew some trials must happen, and I conceded to the Lord there. But God, no biggies, please.

God did not obey.

Continue Reading

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The Opposite of Romans 6:13

September 14, 2018 By Kristin Saatzer 4 Comments

Give yourselves to God…

surrender your whole being to Him to be used for righteous purpose.

Romans 6:13 TEV

The day was toast. I was toast. In an almost vegetative state, lounged across my bed with phone in hand, I scrolled through Instagram. I barely registered my son’s voice as it echoed in my ear. How long had he been sitting there? I sat up as it dawned on me that Micah had walked into my room earlier, and talked to me the entire time.  As if not noticing him wasn’t bad enough, I had actually responded to him as I scrolled (“uh huh”, “really”, “wow”, “that’s funny”). I stopped my multi-tasking and stared at my child.

Now, this boy has an advanced degree in the spoken word, and he’s only 14. Micah thinks verbally and needs to dump about 100,000 words per day. In the summertime, without his classmates around, I am usually the “dumpee” for the much of those words. Just sayin’. Still, pretending to listen and focusing elsewhere is the opposite of the way I want to mother him.

Anyway, as conviction bubbled in me, I apologized to this great kid of mine and he forgave me. Then, without missing a beat, continued his story.

I confess this is not an isolated occurrence, neither are the many “unrighteous” actions or choices I make. That is why the verse above, Romans 6:13, is a surrender scripture I memorized this year, my year of Surrender.

The Lord continues to show me areas where I have not yielded my “whole being to Him“. I want to “be used for righteous purpose“. In whatever big or small ways the Lord may lead.

There are days when my life, my brain, or my actions look the opposite of Romans 6:13: my whole being is sure not surrendered to Him and I ain’t being used for a righteous purpose.

Besides ignoring my kid, lately, I have struggled with anxiety. My mind and stomach bubbling with “what ifs” and “how is this going to work?”. This summer, I exhausted heaps of emotional energy trying to figure out “how it was going to work” with my dad’s health and healthcare needs. I also worried about one of my sons, asking myself “what if?” repeatedly. After I relinquished these heavy loads at God’s feet, I would sneak back in and haul them out again.

My friends, this verse from Romans whispers to my heart. I crave the freedom my Savior gives. I dislike the burden of worry I sometimes carry. So, why do I do the opposite of what I want to do?Continue Reading

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