I’m convinced that Sweetgirl is able to sense my reluctance to allow her to grow up.
You see, she turned seven last week.
As we celebrated the risen King, Jesus, we also celebrated another year with a girl whose spirit is so big and beautifully loud, that all who meet her are charmed.
This child is able to dance, sing, bounce, and breathe with joyful abandon. Sometimes, I think to myself, “I want to be like her when I grow up!”
Her confidence in her abilities sometimes outshines her actual abilities – and you know what? That’s exactly the way I hope it always is for her.
I want her to aim for the stars, keeping her eyes fixed on The One who already thinks she’s made it.
She catches me sighing in resignation as she’s making a scrapbook page instead of coloring Doc McStuffins. To that, she says, “Mama, I have to keep growing up. That’s my job, you know.”
Indeed, child. Indeed.
If I were a letter writer, this is what I’d tell her.
I love you.
I love your spirit of adventure. Please, never stop seeking wonder.
I adore your smile. Please remember to flash it toward any and all.
Your tender-hearted ways make me so proud. Please keep your heart soft towards this world.
I love your belief in a God you cannot see, but to Whom you often talk. Please, never stop talking to God.
I love, and I can’t believe I’m going to say this, your adoration for the color pink. Please, know that it was you who turned your mama into a pink lover, too.
And most of all, I love seeing how you change each year. You keep trying new things and loving new things and understanding new things and I love every minute of it!
I’m so glad that God gave us you!
Happy Seven, child of mine!