To Donald:
Well . . . we are nearing the end of a whole year as empty nesters. I never liked that term. And I can tell you now with all my heart that there’s been nothing empty about the last year. It’s been full of beautiful walks and meaningful talks, nights when we randomly jumped into the car and spent an evening with Kelsey and Kyle and little Hudson. We played tennis and Ping-Pong and hung out with friends. And yes, we miss having our family all together every day. But when they come home the celebrating never ends. What I mean is, I’ve loved raising our kids with you, and now I love this season, too. God has brought us through so many pages in our story. The Baxter family came to life while we were raising our kids. When they told stories around the family dinner table, we were doing the same. And when their kids auditioned for Christian theater, our kids were singing the same songs. Our family is—and always will be—inexorably linked with the Baxter family. So thank you for creating a world where our love and life and family and faith were so beautiful I could do nothing but write about it. So that some far-off day when we’re old and the voices of our many grandchildren fill the house, we can pull out books like this one and remember. Every single beautiful moment. I love you.
To Kyle:
You will always be the young man we prayed for, the one we believed God for when it came to our precious only daughter. You love Kelsey so well, Kyle. And you are such a great daddy to Hudson. Thank you for bringing us joy every day. We pray that all the world will one day be changed for the better because of your music, your love and your life.
To Kelsey:
What an amazing season this has been, watching as you became the best mommy ever through all the early firsts of Hudson’s life. Little Hudson is such a happy baby, such a miracle boy. His laughter rings in my heart always. What a beautiful time for all of us! Hudson is strong and kind and joyful, with a depth that tells all of us that some way, somehow, God is going to use him. I believe God will continue to use you, also, Kelsey. You and Kyle and Hudson—and whatever other kids God might bring your way. Your family is a very bright light . . . and I know that one day all the world will look to you as an example of how to love well. Love you with all my heart, honey.
To Tyler:
Watching you take wing this past year has been another of life’s great joys. Long ago when I imagined you graduating from college and moving out on your own, I thought it would be with tears and sadness. The quiet in the front room where once the sound of you playing the piano filled our nights. The empty space where you once made your bedroom. But this year caught me by surprise. I was simply too happy for you to find time to be sad. You are shining so brightly for Jesus—your songwriting, your singing, your screenwriting. God has great things ahead, and as always I am most thankful for this front-row seat. Oh, and the occasional night when you stop by for dinner and finish the night playing the piano. You are a very great blessing, Ty. Love you always.
To Sean:
I’m so glad you’re back at Liberty University, working on your degree and growing in your faith and strength as a man. You have grown so much, Sean. And your dad and I are so proud of you! From the first day we held you, we knew your spirit was bright. You love God and people with a passion and joy that defied your first five years. Yet we agreed with you that it was time to take your faith to another level. I am convinced God has amazing plans ahead for you, Son. I love you forever.
To Josh:
This was a year of discovery for you, and for that I’m so grateful. You are walking into a future where being a spokesperson for Jesus can look a lot of different ways. He has gifted you with special skills that will cause you to be in demand in this world. People will always need your help, and along the way, I pray that you always give them more than they expect. Because people will always need a kind word, a gentle smile, a prayer and an invitation to church more than they will need any skills we can offer. I’m so glad you’re my son, Josh. Love you so much!
To EJ:
What a tremendous time this is for you, EJ. You are doing so well at Liberty University, so excited about the career in filmmaking you have chosen. Isn’t it something how God knew—even all those years ago when you first entered our family—that you would need to be with people who loved God and loved each other . . . but also people who loved the power of storytelling. I’m so excited about the future, and the ways God will use your gifts to intersect with the gifts of so many others in our family. Maybe we should start our own studio—making movies that will change the world for God. I love it! And I love you—always.
To Austin:
A very long time ago I scribbled out the years to come. 2001, 2002, 2003, etc. Under each year, I wrote the ages and grades our kids would be in—so I would get a quick glance at how fast the time would go. I remember writing out the number 2016. Because that was the year you—our youngest—would graduate from high school and move away to college. And now . . . here we are. I’m so grateful I can see you when I travel to Liberty University to teach. We will have many happy times together as you follow the path God has for you. Many breaks and special family times. But I miss you in the everydayness, Austin. You have been such a light in our home, our miracle boy. Our overcomer. You are my youngest, and no question the hardest one to let go. The quiet here is so . . . quiet. Even with your dad’s jokes and little Hudson’s visits. So . . . while you’re at Liberty, on quiet nights when you lie awake in your dorm, just know that we have cherished every moment of raising you. And we are still here. We always will be. Love you forever, Aus.
And to God Almighty, the Author of Life,
who has—for now—blessed me with these.