May 18, 2011


My heart swells with pride and sadness at the same time:  today, our Zion is 4.
He wanted a "tire" cake.  It turned out more like a wagon wheel.  Notice the spaghetti sauce on his face.  His favorite food.
Zion has taken to cleaning my sinks.  He says to me, "Mama, every day I will clean your sinks."  By lunch time I have already heard how beautiful he thinks I am, several times over.  He calls me a "pretty pony" and a "flower."  He calls himself a "stud" and a "bronco" and a "cactus."  He says, "I will put you in my heart!" and then pretends to shove me through his sternum.  I sit huddled then, as if within the cage of his ribs, and I tell him what his bones look like, and how his heartbeat sounds, and that this is surely my favorite place on earth.  All the while he beams at me with oval teeth, two wolf-blue eyes sparkling behind his glasses, two long dimples in a face as white and smooth as a hard boiled egg.  He worries some, and chews his nails, but we pray peace over him and steadfastness.  He is learning who he is, and why he has value.  We let him shower us with compliments and good deeds, and we comfort him in the night, but we assure him all the while that he is loved no matter what he says or does, and that he has nothing to fear.

Happy, happy, happy birthday, Zion Rupp!  Our four years with you have been like eating a piece of birthday cake.  May the year ahead be sweet, adventurous, and victorious.

All our love forever, no matter what,
Mama and Daddy