It all started with Marie Kondo.

Having just devoured ‘The Life Changing Magic of Tidying‘, I became inspired. I was carried away with the satisfying idea that everything in our house would soon spark joy – a vision that seemed vastly different to our current reality (of the overstuffed toy cupboard variety).

I began with my own collections – quietly communing with the mementos and fabrics that have become part of my story. It was remarkably healing – the process of figuring out exactly who I want to be and what I needed to let go of in order for her to bloom. Far from my usual method of haphazardly stuffing random items into a bag and heading straight back to Savers to fill that same bag up again, this time seemed different.

The air seemed lighter where I had tidied. Like the ghosts of the past had been released.

I did what anyone in my position might have done…

I decided to conquer the rest of the house.

That was my undoing, I suspect. Letting the current sweep me up and turning it into a whirlwind frenzy of ‘how the hell do we have so much STUFF!?‘ It perhaps wasn’t the joyous communication with my soul that I wished it to be.

What I did discover, however – in the midst of what felt like the millionth box of toys – is that our belongings tell stories. It was a bittersweet unfolding as we delved through layers of our past together – the kids solemnly saying ‘goodbye’ as our pile for Savers grew. There were exclamations of delight at finding lost things, memories of phases and stages, the excavation of what life has brought us over the past eight years.

Can it only have been eight years since we became parents? The number seems insignificant – a trifling of numbers that says nothing about what we have done in that time. The memories made, the sleep that vanished, the messes made and cleaned up, the moments of exhausted happiness.

Eight years of Eli has been a wild and wonderful ride.

We went from the blissful first moments, through health scares and milestones, adventures and sleep battles. There were so many firsts (teeth lost, friends made, skills learned, needles braved) and meaningful lasts (nappies and words mispronounced, to lullabies before bed and fists pounding the ground).

I’ve doubted my parenting abilities so many times during this era – wondering at my capabilities to raise such an energetic and headstrong boy, floundering in the face of his absolute confidence and conviction. There have been moments of utter despair, as I’ve secretly doubted whether I was even the right fit for this fiery boy. But, when morning came, and hope returned with it, I discovered that he has been the most incredible gift for me – a chance for me to face my shadow, to embrace the discomfort, and to learn to understand one who is so different to me.

This year we discovered that environment can be everything for allowing one to thrive, after witnessing an utter transformation in Eli after we transitioned him into a new school in Term 2. In three short months he has risen to the challenge of moving up a grade level with incredible focus. We have seen him make solid friendships and embrace his love of music and magic tricks, reading and Minecraft to new levels. He became softer, more communicative, recovering quickly after emotional setbacks and showing bravery in being willing to try again and again.

Eli chose to celebrate his eighth year with a small group of friends at Gumbuya World. It was horrid weather, but the spirits were high as Dave took the boys on the adventure, the rest of us (including my parents) trailing along for the ride. With rollercoaster rides and dodgem cars, Lego challenges and Zorb balls, it seemed like everyone had a great time (except for one unfortunate whiplash incident).

Eight years of parenting sure doesn’t make us experts. But it has taught a little about what is really important. We’ve learned (the hard way) that my role is simply to focus on the environment. We can’t control my kids or their decisions. We can’t force them down any particular path. What we can do is to honour the incredible, God-breathed spark within them – loving fiercely but providing firm boundaries to prepare them for what life will require.

There is life changing magic in each one of us, but I am deeply thankful for the vitality that Eli brings to our family. When he is thriving and engaged, we all rise upwards. His way of seeing the world –  reacting to injustice, being drawn towards the vulnerable and helpless – is truly inspiring.

…

Dear Eli,

You are a force of nature. A whirlwind of fire, a gust of fresh air, a torrent of water and the solid grounding of earth. Life bends itself around you. You have power beyond your means already, my son. I know that you will use it well. 

Music courses through your veins. It flows through your fingers, hums in your bones. The gift of life can be found in the rising cadence, the symphony of wonder. Breathe it in. Let the notes transform you. You are participating in the eternal conversation of creation. 

You are a story-teller. Your gift is found in between the letters. Write as if your life depended on it. Sometimes it does. 

There is a spark buried deep within. It is connected to the guiding light of the universe – the true self that you were designed to be. Be ever-vigilant on your quest to discover these secrets. It is a journey that will break you, then remake you. You are a phoenix, rising. It is in this rebirth that your ultimate strength emerges. 

Gaze upon yourself with compassion. Nurture your soft side. Allow yourself to be broken open by suffering. 

Love is all around you, my son. It is layered into every part of your being. We are in awe of your potential, moved by your strength. You have transformed our understanding of being, challenged our inconsistencies and ushered in a new chapter in our adventure. And we wouldn’t have it any other way.

Love you to Icarus and beyond. 

Love Mum