Waking up on my 48th birthday and realizing one big thing

I spent part of my birthday teaching this crew how to skip rocks.

I was scrolling back through my memories of birthdays past, thinking about some of the particular January 29ths that really stand out. I thought I’d share some. 

1976 — On my 7th birthday in the wintry cold of Bend, Oregon, I broke the two middle fingers on my right hand shortly before my friends arrived for my birthday party. I snapped the tips of those fingers in an unfortunate incident involving a wheelbarrow full of firewood, a rickety ramp consisting of a single flimsy board and a big drop down some steps on our back patio. Oh, and my older brother was in the mix. I soon adapted by learning to write left-handed. So I guess you could say that on my 7th birthday I learned about overcoming adversity. And not to use your writing hand to try and hold up a ramp beneath the weight of a wheelbarrow full of firewood being driven by your brother, even when he tells you to hold the ramp up with your hand.

1985 — I would turn 16 this year and mark it later that summer by competing on an “All-Star” track and field team from Oregon and Washington that traveled to Hong Kong, South Korea and China. I discovered firsthand the meaning of “abject poverty” on our train ride through the rice paddies and villages of rural China and recall how hordes of Chinese people would crowd around in awe and touch the hair of a girl on our team who had blond hair that was nearly white. I competed in a 5,000-meter race in a rustic, dirt-track stadium in Guangzhou, China, finishing third in sweltering heat. I remember distinctly three things about that race: 1) I was sure I was going to either burn up or melt to death, perhaps both; 2) You couldn’t drink the water in China so after the race I “quenched” my agonizing thirst with the only liquid available, a warm, fizzy orange soda pop; 3) I was overjoyed that our second meet got canceled because I was sure I wouldn’t survive another race. After the race we traded trinkets and jerseys with our fellow Chinese competitors and I remember one tiny, rail thin guy wanted my beloved Nike Spiridon racing shoes. I turned him down. To this day I think about that poor kid who had literally nothing and rue my selfishness: Why didn’t I just give him the shoes?

1993 — I turned 24 in the frozen tundra of Ontario, Oregon, which at the time was gripped in a brutally long, cold, snowy winter. I was married to Julie and we had two boys with a third on the way — Imagine that! Julie was pregnant! — and I was working for $1,200 a month as a sportswriter at the daily Argus Observer covering high school sports. Often I would leave my 1986 diesel Volkswagen Jetta with Julie and run the mile or so to work through the campus of Treasure Valley Community College. I remember distinctly on one frigid night running home for dinner through the crusty snow and underestimating how bitterly cold it was, thinking someone might come across me frozen solid in mid-stride sometime the next day. It took me a month to thaw out from that jaunt and to this day I hate to be cold, perhaps partly because of that moment of idiocy. But I get the warm fuzzies thinking about Ontario as well. The farming outpost on the Snake River next to Idaho is where we discovered the Calvary Chapel movement at a church on the outskirts of town and where we learned about expository Bible teaching. It changed our church lives forever. We also made lifelong friends who taught us so much about raising children, homeschooling and a family where Jesus Christ is at the center. 

2001 — I turned 32 in a couple of finished rooms of an old dairy barn on a 3-acre patch of land at the edge of Corvallis, Oregon, where we were holed up while we built a big dream house. We had seven kids, an eighth on the way — yes, Julie was pregnant! — and it was a hard time. Very hard time. All I can say is that God carried us through it. I learned plenty in that season of life, like DIY and how to use power tools such as a compound mitre saw, how to kill skunks nesting under your barn (it’s ugly and smelly and I don’t wish it on anyone) and what true friends look like (thank you Jim Bass and many others). I remember the strength of Julie in those hard times. A gritty perseverance and a deep, abiding faith and belief that God in His power will get us through anything. I’ve never met another woman like her. Don’t think I ever will. I’m so thankful for her.

2009 — After living in Virginia for four years, we returned to Corvallis in fall of 2008 so I could attend Cornerstone School of Ministry. On my 40th birthday at school I remember how one of my classmates ornately and rather gaudily decorated my car in embarrassing fashion, writing passages drawn from Song of Solomon referencing my “abs of carved ivory” on it … except it wasn’t my car. It was someone else’s. Now THAT was funny and made for a memorable birthday. But from 2009 I learned many things, above all that God is in control. And that He is a very good and loving God.

2017 — I awoke on my 48th birthday next to my wife of 26 years, who’s not pregnant I might add, in a little house a few blocks from the York River where around Christmas time all 14 kids were home. It’s 15 kids when you add in Taylor’s wife, Bethany, then 16 kids when you count the wee little lad she’s carrying in her womb. (We’re so stoked to be grandparents this year!) Then you add another to make it 17 for when Ethan’s fiancee Mandi, was here, plus throw in another “kid” to make it 18 when Brenton’s — and ours too! — good friend from Oregon, Parker Smith, stopped in for several days to visit. Julie glowed because all her babies were home and the house was just so full of life. And a ton of food. Literally a ton of food. I remember thinking that, yes our house is small and there’s kids everywhere, but there’s so much laughing and joy and love and I’m so thankful for all the Lord has done in our lives. And then a few days ago I got this text from Evie, who’s out in Oregon studying at Cornerstone School of Ministry for the year: “Okay. We were in prayer yesterday and I remembered in It’s a Wonderful Life at the end when Harry toasts George and says, `To George Bailey, the richest man in town.’ I know this is really mushy but I always thought of you when we watched that movie.” So yes, Evie is right. On my 48th birthday I woke up as the richest man in town.

The little boy, now young man, who almost didn't make it past being a toddler

A kid in Air Jordan shorts can't be anything but confident.

Today we celebrate the 24th birthday of Taylor. It's a remarkable feat because he has come so far. Those who know Taylor might be surprised to learn that at the age of 2, as Sabo kids go he ranked right up there with the most difficult. There were days we weren't sure any of us would survive the Taylor toddler years. Yes, it's true. Just ask him. He will tell you.

Everything was a battle with Taylor when he was but a wee lad. He was just so particular. About everything. Rarely did he like the way his clothes fit and he would get this sour look on his face and grab at his pants, or stomp his feet, or whine and fuss. He was particular about what he would eat and prone to little fits about things in general. When his brothers would aggravate him, and boy would his brothers aggravate him, he would get so mad! He would grit his teeth and wrinkle up his nose and you could see the steam coming off his head -- which, by the way, it took him a while to grow a full head of hair -- and he would do this funny little thing.

When he got really mad and he needed to really lash out he would grit his teeth and kind of ball up his fists ... then if it was Ethan -- or whoever he was mad at but Ethan seemed for some reason to be a frequent target -- he would reach out and with his thumb and forefinger rub Ethan's ears rather gently. That showed him! And Ethan would look at him like, "What on earth are you doing with my ears Taylor?"

I don't think he still does that anymore. I'll have to ask his lovely wife Bethany.

Along the way, Taylor became an amazing young man. Let's say that God moved mightily in his life. He's an extraordinary son and brother and friend and husband. He is kind and loving and generous, a hard worker, genuinely caring, a young man of great faith and a talented musician and singer who uses his gifts for the glory of the Lord.

It's always so much fun when Taylor comes home with Bethany. There's soccer games and laughs and crazy bedtime stories that Taylor tells his little brother and sisters -- so hilarious that they actually look forward to going to bed. That's all kind of amazing! He likes to help out around the house and when the two of them are here that means two more people singing beautifully and playing instruments in the house. A house full of musicians is a happy place I tell you.

So happy birthday Taylor! We love you! Taylor and Bethany graduate from Berea College in a little more than a week and we can't wait for them to come visit us! One last thing, Taylor: We knew you would make it to 24 ... really we did!

Happy Birthday To My Amazing Wife Julie

Julie & Seth

Julie and I met when we were 20 years old and we were married 16 months later. By 30 we had seven kids and had lived in four cities.

When we hit 40 we had 12 kids, had moved across the country -- and back while I attended a School of Ministry for 9 months in Oregon -- and had lived in somewhere around 20 different "residences" that included an apartment, a barn and houses that ranged in size from 860 square feet (with five kids) to over 4,000 square feet.

Oh, and there was that two-week stretch in a couple of rooms in a motel when we arrived in Gloucester and no one would rent a house to us because they said we had too many kids. (Like nine is really a lot of kids ... what would those folks say now?)

Sometimes we talk about the plans we had before we got married. We'd have two kids and they'd be best friends and I'd have a nice career in the newspaper business. I'm not sure what all we had planned or if we planned much beyond those few details but it definitely looked nothing like what we have now.

I write all this because I want to say how thankful I am that I'm married to a woman of great faith. Julie inspires me with her devotion and love of the Lord, a pure faith that reflects and radiates the love of Jesus in so many ways. It's a selfless, sacrificial love for me and her children. It's patience, kindness, endurance, strength. It's wisdom. And so many other things.

A couple of months ago we were walking together on a date in D.C. heading to the Mall on an extraordinarily pleasant November night. We had snuck away for a night, just the two of us with no agenda, no demands and no plans other than to enjoy the evening together. Maybe the past 25 years together hasn't looked anything like what we thought it would. It's had so many unexpected twists and turns. And I can't imagine it now any other way.

But walking in D.C. is the part of my life I definitely envisioned. The two of us laughing and talking about the things we've done, the plans we have and the places we'll go. I envisioned us always being together.

Together we've done some pretty incredible things. We have such a good life, far different than anything we could have imagined when we met in her living room in her parents' house in Canby, Ore. We're blessed beyond measure by a family full of kids that love each other and has so much fun together. There's joy in this house and that's something I don't take for granted.

For that I thank Julie and her faith and love and passion to live a life pleasing to her Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. She's an amazing example to our kids and many others.

Today is her birthday. Happy birthday babe. I love you.

The Day Seth Turns 3 Years Old

Seth rocks the shades he made at church.

Another day, another Sabo birthday. I have this standard joke that the first thing I do when I wake up in the morning is ask myself if one of my kids has a birthday today. Yesterday it was Gabe's. Today it is Seth's birthday. I just heard Julie say that she can't believe she had him three years ago. Neither

He is a one of a kind Sabo kid. He's built completely differently than all of our other Sabo wee lads and lasses. He's just solid. That's the best way to put it. While our kids traditionally have been on the petite side at a young age, Judah broke the mold. He weighs more than Judah -- who is 1 1/2 years older -- and might weigh more than Olivia, who is almost 5 years older. That just means there's more to snuggle with.

He's affectionately called "Seffers" by most everyone in the house. It's a nickname we believe was coined by Evie and it's stuck. In fact, when he tell him he is "Seth" he disagrees. "I'm Seffers," he says.

He's a gentle guy with a kind heart and he's best friends with Judah. The other day they were having lunch together at the table and had the following conversation:

Judah: "Hey Seth, you want to play a pretend game where you're my brother and we're eating lunch together?"
Seth: "Okay Judah."

It's pretty cool when pretend and reality collide. Nothing but good times.

He likes Star Wars and Frozen and going to the beach, seeing his friends at church and snuggling with Mama, not in that order. He's very partial to Mama. And let's just say Mama loves snuggling with Seth. We all do. For however much longer it lasts.

Happy 13th Birthday To Gabe

Gabe teaching Seth the finer points of rivah wading.

Gabe is celebrating his 13th birthday today, which means that among other things we're back up to having five teenagers in the house.  Gave is a brother with a big heart and an easy, contagious laugh. Just ask Claire. When Gabe really gets to cackling Claire just loses it and starts giggling as well.

He loves animals and every morning faithfully transports our bunny, Flopsy, from her spacious hutch to her bunny cage in the yard. Flopsy has become something of a neighborhood mascot. I've had people ask where I live and when I describe it several people have said, "Oh, the house with the bunny in the yard." Yep.

If you see Gabe in the front yard, he will wave to you. And keep waving until you wave back. So please wave back. Gabe loves the beach and catching minnows and little blue crabs in his net. He loves the snow and likes to ride his bike around the yard and will spend hours on end building Legos.

He likes to play soccer but is one of those kids who likes more to be a part of the team and making friends than the competition aspect of it. He's worked hard over the years and has become a very good soccer player, but he's one of those kids that is simply a great teammate who encourages the other players, is unselfish and works hard.

He's a joy to have as a son. Gabe is kind, patient, thoughtful and a good big brother, quick to help his little brothers.

Happy birthday Gabe. We love you.

What We Do Best As A Family Is ...

Family should be one big celebration

Maybe it's because there's a lot of us. Maybe it's because we love to laugh and make each other laugh. Or maybe it's because we've always had little kids around who reach big milestones on a regular basis. Whatever the case, over the last several days I was struck by something that happens a lot here at Team Sabo.

We celebrate.

We celebrate little things. Like a lost tooth. The displaced little tooth is taken around the house and shown with great pride to each brother and sister. The new gap in the mouth is admired and analyzed and there's long discussions of whether the Tooth Fairy is broke thanks to the Sabo kids.

We celebrate funny things, like 4-year-old Judah telling MerriGrace about his latest dream. It was a dream where he forgot to put on his pants and underwear but went out in public anyway. Now I when I have had those dreams of being buck naked in public, it was more like a nightmare. Judah had a different response: "Whoops!" he told MerriGrace. That's a story worth celebrating.

We celebrate attempts to conquer the English language, which is no small feat for a 2-year-old like Seth. He likes his apples cut in half, with the skin off and smothered in "pinka butter." Although he means to say "peanut butter," we all think "pinka butter" is just so much better. Because it makes us laugh.

We celebrate one of the biggest moments in a Sabo kid's life -- the day of turning 10 years old. -- with regularity. You see, at the age of 10 a Sabo lad or lass becomes a "big kid." There's all sorts of benefits to being a big kid. Not only have they hit double digits, but they can stay up later at night. They are entrusted with more freedoms, like playing video games. There's also a certain amount of responsibility -- they may be counted on to help out more with the little kids. Now that we can definitely celebrate.

We celebrate when the kids in college come home for the holidays or on a weekend. Sometimes the younger kids make welcome home signs. Or they color pictures. Sometimes they bake cookies. Sometimes, like tonight, we honor a special request and make chicken and mashed potatoes with gravy. All the time there's a ton of hugs.

In another week we'll celebrate in a big way a first for our family. Taylor is marrying Bethany. The excitement in the house is palpable. We've been doing a countdown for months. Today Olivia was modeling the dress she is going to wear. We giggled over the snazzy shirts and ties Judah and Seth will be wearing. We've dug out photos of when Taylor was but a wee Sabo to share at the wedding reception. And the great thing is that we'll have many, many more of these types of celebrations.

We celebrate potty training and riding a bike with no training wheels and going to Busch Gardens and family vacations and picking blueberries and getting baptized and a little kid reading their first book and getting a driver's license and birthdays and a million other things.

We celebrate life because life should be a celebration. I view this life I have, my wife and all these kids, as a gift from God. And gifts are worth celebrating.

Happy Birthday To You, Julie. I Love You.

A typical photo of Julie: Surrounded by kids

I've lost count of all the places we've lived. The rental on the hill with a view of the courthouse in a little Oregon cowboy town. The houses set back in the woods down quiet streets. The little house near the beach that's so small we have three young boys in a bed. The big house we built together with a porch overlooking a little valley. We've lived in motel rooms and a moldering, drafty dairy barn but we've always been together.

I've lost count of all the miles we've traveled, all the hard things we've endured. I remember watching the life drain from your face in a hospital room and I won't forget seeing a nurse wake you up so you'd keep breathing. I've never been so afraid and I've never prayed so hard that I won't be left alone.

I've lost count of all the laughs we've shared. Our little ones saying their first words that crack us up, the older ones making jokes together over board games and laughing long after we all should be in bed. We've made a million memories together as a family. My favorites are always with you. Like simple things such as around the dinner table at holidays, the kids laughing, babies gabbing and reminisces about crazy stunts the older kids have pulled. I love the memories we share like a perfect summer day peering into the Grand Canyon, a place so breathtaking it takes your words away. I love how we have our own language, a glance and a knowing smile we share that says a thousand words without speaking.

I've lost count of all the times I've let you down. Sometimes angry words. Other times silence. Some bad decisions, some selfish actions. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry.

I want you to feel loved and treasured and honored. You are beautiful in ways I can't describe. Lovely, strong, faithful, determined, loving. I admire you so much. Thank you for choosing to spend your life with me. Thank you for loving me when I'm not worth being loved. Thank you for being the mother of my children who they all adore. Thank you for teaching us how to love selflessly, how to follow Jesus Christ and how to give when it seems there's nothing left to give.

Happy birthday Julie. I love you.

Birthdays, Birthdays...So Many Kids, So Many Birthdays

Unlike most people, my first thought when I wake up isn't, "Coffee! I need coffee!" As a father of 14 children my first thought each morning is, "Is it one of my kids' birthdays today?" Now I usually can't make that determination until after I've had my morning cup o' joe, but quite often the answer is, "Yes." Today is one of those days. Our son Abram turns 15 today. So join me in wishing him a happy birthday.

Birthdays in the Sabo house are pretty cool. For one thing, we don't have to throw a big party because, well, it already is a big party. He already has 13 of his closest friends, in this case brothers and sisters, at his party. Our birthday tradition runs like this: We let the birthday kid pick out where he or she would like to eat dinner or lunch and the treat's on us. We have a cake, typically a fairly big cake, open some presents, -- our parental expenditure budget on birthdays is around $20; if those in the Sabo house who have a regular income choose to get a present for the birthday kid, then that's their prerogative and often times they do -- sing the birthday song and generally enjoy the festivities.

I distinctly remember Abram's birth. Now that I think about it, I distinctly remember the births of all the kids. I remember Eli was born at night when I was trying to watch the women's gymnastics competition during the Olympics in 2004. The U.S. women were going for the gold when Julie got serious about. I politely asked her if she could hold on just a little longer because the U.S. women were going for the gold ... just kidding! I said no such thing. May not have even thought it ...

In September 1999, I was commuting from Prineville, Ore., to Corvallis, Ore., after taking a job over in the Willamette Valley as a correspondent for The Oregonian. It was a three-hour drive and I would leave Prineville on Monday morning for the lovely cruise over the Cascade Mountains and come back Friday evening. Julie was due right around Labor Day, Sept. 6, and on that particular day I remember giving her something of an "ultimatum." I explained to her that if she didn't have the baby soon, I would be leaving for Corvallis first thing in the morning. So, you know, things needed to get going.

So Julie took matters into her own hands. Or womb. I remember going for a brisk walk around the block with her when she started going into serious labor. It was late in the afternoon and our midwives -- Abram was among the stretch of Sabo wee ones born at home -- we're having trouble making it to Prineville on time. So I started boiling water, cutting sheets and doing things doctors do. Just kidding! I believe I prayed fervently that the highway traffic would part like the Red Sea for our midwives.

They made it on time and Abram was born late in the afternoon, a whopping 8 lbs., 13 oz. and the chunkiest Sabo on record. It was a difficult birth and Julie hemorrhaged and I remember feeling helpless. The midwives were able to slow the bleeding with doses of Pitocin before we had to rush her to the hospital, which was literally a block away. I thank the Lord that Abram and Julie were fine.

Fifteen years later Abram is a wonderful son. He is kind, gentle, helpful, responsible an amazingly skilled Legos contractor, a faithful servant at church and very good with our little ones. One thing in particular I love about him is that every night I can find him in a quiet spot reading his Bible. At 15 he is one of the wisest people I know.

Happy birthday to our `baby whisperer'

We're in a stretch where in just more than 2 months, we have 7 kids celebrate birthdays. I'm pretty sure I could name them all and get the dates right, but in the interest of brevity you'll have to take my word for it.

Today we celebrate MerriGrace's 16th birthday, even though she is AWOL. She's spending the week at high school camp at YDI in Head Waters, Va., and boy howdy do we miss her! Specifically, Judah misses her. When he discovered on Sunday afternoon after church that she was leaving for camp he wept openly. An anguished cry from the depths of his soul. From the time of his birth MerriGrace has been Judah's second mom. In the mornings when he wakes up he calls for her. She puts him to bed -- hauling him around for bedtime kisses for everyone -- and when he's troubled he calls for her. It's pretty cute. She's always been known as our "baby whisperer" because not only can we count on her to help with the babies, but she has a way with them. She's gentle but firm at the same time. She's loving and patient but she won't be taken advantage of. She's got it all when it comes to maternal instincts.

Today Judah was suffering angst of some sort and inconsolable and climbed up into her bed for comfort. What's significant about that is this is a guy that still sleeps in a pack-n-play -- admittedly we have a shortage of beds in the house -- and doesn't climb out. Yet this afternoon he can climb up to the top bunk in hopes of finding his sister. Last night I think he had MerriGrace on his mind because she usually keeps an eye on him. He came up to me and said I should keep an eye on him. I asked if there was any particular reason I should keep an eye on him. He said he might be up to something. MerriGrace will get a big kick out of that story when she hears it upon her return home.

Happy birthday MerriGrace! We love you!