“This birthday feels different.” I shared with Matt. “Seven has always felt different, a monumental shift with our older kids. A time when they go from a little kid to being a big kid. Conversations deepen and their sense of humor starts to blossom.” Tears welled. “I know that I know Finley, but in so many ways I don’t know her. We don’t know our daughter like we know our older kids.” Tears fell down my face, tracing the familiar pattern down my cheek and falling onto my shirt. 

“Come here.” Matt wrapped me in a hug. I relaxed in his embrace, knowing I was safe to cry. Through trial and error and more trial and error we are both learning hugs and listening are good medicine for a grieving heart.  Advice can come later. Grief needs a safe presence.

 Finley’s birthdays have always been a challenge. She gets overwhelmed with a lot of people, she doesn’t like cake, she cries after the candles are blown out and the “Happy Birthday” song is done. I’ve had several conversations with therapists and different special needs moms. This birthday struggle seems to be fairly common in the special needs community. As a family, we want to celebrate her well and make her feel loved and cherished but finding ways tailored to her can be a challenge.

“I don’t even know what to do for her birthday. I don’t know what to get her. I don’t know what to tell other people to get her. Each toy is something else I have to do since she struggles to play by herself. I hate that her birthday feels like a burden. She is such a bright light and needs to be celebrated well.” I continued to vent. 

“We will figure something out…I love you and I’m with you all the way.” Matt hugged me tighter. This was not the moment for planning. This was a moment to cry and feel and be safe in that grief. 

“I love you. With you all the way.” I said. I took a deep breath and pulled away, feeling calmer. “Thank you.” I said as I started to head out of the room.

“Some flowers take seven years to bloom.” Matt stated. A passing comment, an after conversation thought, a fun horticulture trivia fact that went straight into my heart. I didn’t say a word, I just drank in those words and a little spark of hope flickered in my heart. 

I did not think Finley would turn seven and everything would magically be ok. The seven year blooming flower reminds me that certain challenges in life take years to resolve, years to work through. Blossoming can look many different ways, it does not always mean what we think is broken being fixed. It does not always mean that whatever we face that is challenging somehow goes away. Blossoms add beauty and fragrance, they produce life. I have thought about those words almost every single day since.  

Rain pattered on my windscreen as I drove Finley to therapy.

“God, what should I do for her birthday?” Seven was quickly approaching and as usual I was stumped. 

“Take her to the airport to watch the planes.” Whispered into my heart. I took a deep breath in. That was perfect. 

“Finley, do you want to go watch planes for your birthday?” 

“YEEEAAH!!!” She declared.

“That would be so fun, Fin!”

“YAY!” 

“Thank you, Jesus.” I whispered. Relief washed over me. “Some flowers take seven years to blossom.” By the grace of Jesus, an idea had blossomed. For the first time in six years I had a birthday plan, simple and sweet but beautiful, just like a blossom, bringing life to a place of shadows, bringing sweet fragrance to the valley, breathing beauty into brokenness and reminding me of the small miracles that happen every single day.