When I hit Publish on this post the little girl will be eight years old.
If years ago, someone had told me that she would not seem to care or know what a birthday is – at age eight – I would have been crushed.
But all I can say, all I can cry, are the words I wrote on 4/4/04: Thank you, thank you, oh thank you my Lord for giving her to us.
Because she could not be more perfect and more beautiful.
And it has nothing to do with me. Or her father. (Although I often cannot believe I get to be a part of this, a part of her and her story). It’s never been about us.
It’s always God, all God. His sovereignty. His provision. His goodness.
Some may look at her and feel sad for her limitations. But it is well with her soul, and so mine.
And I admire her perhaps more than anyone. She is always a lesson to me.
You’re different from the way I thought you’d be
But here you are in front of me
So full of light I watch it overflow
A lovely mystery
You have a way of stirring up my soul
Did you know?
And I am lost for words
You’re more than I deserve
~J.J. Heller, Where I Land
Last night, the last night of my life that I will ever have my firstborn be seven years old, we danced in the 99 Restaurant. Well, first we went potty. Her first, then me. Instead of bursting out the door while I went, she sat down on my lap. I mean, who gets to pee in a public restroom and balance her 60-lb child on her lap at the same time? Me!!!
I had to dance with her. My heart was too full. So we spun around together in front of the mirror to a song I’d never heard. I will forever remember the laughter, her head back and eyes closed, her big two front teeth, her sweet skin, her purple shirt with the chewed sleeves. I will remember the giddiness as we moved faster and faster. I will remember remembering it was just the two of us the day she was born, both of us unsure but how we silently agreed, Let’s do this, you and me.
And now. My girl, my darling daughter. Eight!