It's been a while since I wrote any of you a letter. You all have kept me busy (the good kind of busy), and this space has suffered a bit. I got behind, felt guilty, and then gave up for a little while. I'm sorry, loves.
Since school is "out" for the summer (meaning, of course, that you will no longer stay inside) and it's nobody's birthday in particular, I thought I would scribble down this little missive in hopes of getting back on track by the time your birthdays come 'round again.
Ava,
You are seven. I can't believe how grown up you are. You just learned to ride a bike without training wheels. You decided that it was time, and by golly you didn't give up until you had mastered it. I don't think you cried at all during the whole process. Just got back on when you fell off until you didn't fall anymore. All of a sudden, you were riding down the street into the sunset all by yourself, and it seemed that you might just ride right off to college.
It's indicative of how you are growing, and I see it other ways too: how you call your younger three siblings "the kids" and in the knowing way you say "mom" with two syllables when I'm just a little too silly. I see it in the kinds of conversations we have and in your growing beauty. You are grappling with big questions and finding your way.
Even though it's bittersweet, this growing up is beautiful to watch. I love watching you discover your passions. You appreciate beauty--in art, music, a good book, the natural world, or a frilly dress. You love to draw; I find little doodles on napkins and math homework and our little inbox is usually filled to overflowing with artwork. You love to read and you will do it anywhere--at the dinner table, the grocery store, or while you are brushing your teeth. You are making great strides at the piano, and I can tell that you love to play. You are bubbly and funny and wicked smart.
Love, my prayer for you is that your creativity, your love of learning, your curiosity would lead you to wonder at the world and the God who made it. I pray that he would use your many gifts for his glory.
Tim,
A few weeks ago, when I was fixing your hair for your Aunt Jen's wedding, I asked you to look at the light switch in the bathroom. It just happened to be the particular direction I needed you to face to get your part just right. I thought you might not find it the most interesting subject for your gaze, so I added sarcastically, "Because it's so interesting." You replied, "It's not interesting on the outside, but it's very interesting on the inside."
This is so much who you are: constantly thinking on how things work and finding things to wonder at that most people don't even notice. Your brain is methodical and literal. It's like you are taking the world apart and putting it back together in your head. I wish I could see the world through your eyes. I'm glad I get glimpses.
You are going to be in kindergarten this year. I'm not even sure what that means, considering you've been tagging along with Ava educationally the past two years. You love math, and ask to do it frequently. In fact, to calm you down, we ask you math facts. You also love handwriting and phonics. You are reading better all the time. I love watching you learn.
You are learning (sometimes slowly) to protect your sisters. You will often nobly grab a shoe to squash any offending bugs. You are very sweet and also very passionate.
I pray that you will grow in faith and in wisdom and that you would possess a gentle strength that would one day bless your future family.
Genevieve,
You are the most likely of this crew to tell me out of the blue how much you love me. You are also the mostly likely to declare that you are never going to speak to me again.
That never lasts for long. You are chatty and affectionate and never very far from my side. You love nothing better than to snuggle down in my lap and enjoy a good book together.
You are three, and perhaps strong-willed even for your age. You know what you like, and how you like it. You are passionate about horses and the color purple. You love baby dolls and ballet and all things frilly and girly. With a side of superhero.
Have I mentioned that you're passionate?
My dear, you possess a strength of spirit that I pray God would bend and use for his kingdom. You feel deeply. We pray all the time that God would make you passionate about the right things.
Clara,
When you were around four or five months old and were reliably able to hold up your head, we started to play a game with you. Your Daddy or I would take you and peak your little body around the corner and wait for the other little people to discover you. We called it a "Clara Bomb," and it was always funny.
In time, we realized how appropriate this little game was. You are a little joker, and you do this type of thing all the time. Your daddy pointed out that you are a little "photo bomb" for life. Wherever we are, you are somewhere on the fringes doing something crazy and hilarious. You are always popping out from funny places. You seem to delight in surprising us. Since we homeschool, I suppose we could call you the "class clown."
You love to make people smile, and you're good at it. Most of the things you say are said through giggles. We get you up in the morning, you giggle. We give you a snack, you giggle. Someone comes over for a visit, you giggle. You are such a joyful child, and you add so much joy to our days. We are having fun getting to know you and are looking forward to hearing the hilarious things you'll say when you're just a little older.
For you I pray that you will come to know Jesus early, and until then, that my love for you would be like a mirror, reflecting his love for you.
To all of you--Raising you is hard work. I get flustered sometimes. But I want you to know--I hope you know--how much I delight in you. I love getting to be here with you, watching you learn and grow and find your passions. It's a privilege. So is being your mama.
I love you always. No matter what.
Mama
1 comment:
Absolutely love this! <3
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