Annabelle {Just Write}

What I remember about being almost ten is that it isn’t easy. That it stings when people laugh about your problems, and tell you how great and easy it is to be a kid, because sometimes it doesn’t feel great at all. Sometimes it hurts and it feels very, very hard, and I was grateful to have a mom that understood that. I remember thinking that I wanted to be that same kind of mom one day and I hope that I am baby girl, because she was a great one.

I remember feelings that were big and hard to control, and I remember feeling so helpless and miserable when I couldn’t. I remember telling my mom that I felt like I would never fit in anywhere. I remember almost ten being tough. Unfortunately, completely 10 is tough too…and 11. In fact, let’s not even think about how long your road will be bumpy, because it’s intimidating – for you and me both.

Let’s just think of all the wonderful things that not quite 10 brings, and snuggle here together with a good book. I love that you still love to snuggle with me, and I know these sweet days are numbered. I count them each one as precious, sweet girl – every little one matters.

I kiss your head and drink in the sweet smell of your hair, your delicate features, your slight frame that still curls perfectly into my lap, and I squeeze a little tighter. I think of how foolish I feel trying to give you advice – you who are wise beyond your years. You who has taught me so much. You who gives such good counsel to everyone. I often feel the advice should flow the other way, and I’ve actually asked myself what you would say or do in certain situations.

That’s one comfort in all these changes – I know who you are, beautiful girl, and most importantly you know who you are, too. I love that about you.

I worry less about you. I can’t put finger on exactly what it is, but you’ve always needed me less than your sisters do. It’s this quality you have – independent, sure, but something more, too. I just instinctively know that you’re going to be okay.You make your own way in life, sure and confident. You’re not afraid to challenge anyone – even a grown up, even a teacher, even a stranger – when you know you’re right. And you usually are right. Little twerp.

You were born with muchness.

Smart and resourceful, bold and brave, unfailingly kind and generous. You are never first in line, never take the biggest piece, never choose your friends based on popularity…and more often than not, based on exactly the opposite.  You are friend to the friendless, voice for the meek, champion of all that is good and pure and right in your world. Your heart moves me to tears with regularity, and your momma is not a crier. The beauty that is you, my precious, precious girl – it comes from deep within. Loves shines from you.

I wish I knew how you did it, so I could do it too.

Everything that is you, dear child, is something I love. Even the sticky parts. Even the parts that are hard and the parts that make you nervous. I am right here, loving you through all of them. Always will be.

I know that almost 10 isn’t easy, but trust me baby, you are rocking it.

I wish I could tell you that one day you will look back and realize that, but you probably won’t. It’s just the way we are wired. I could tell you that one day, many years from now, you will realize that almost 10 isn’t nearly as Big and Bad as it once seemed, but that doesn’t really matter when you are There and it Is and it Does, so I won’t say that.

I will just tell you instead that we will survive it together.

That I will always have your back.

That you are blessed with a Father who has it better than I ever could.

That you are a very bright light in what sometimes seems like a very dark world, and while it isn’t always easy, it is always worth it.

And then we will snuggle, while you’ll still let me.

This is a good thing about not-quite-10.

And today, I think that is enough.

Celebrating Annabelle

I do some of my best thinking in the shower, usually with music playing to drown out the mayhem and destruction taking place while the children are left unattended. A few weeks ago I was listening to a Steven Curtis Chapman song that he wrote for his wife, but somehow the chorus seemed to fit my Annie.

And let me show you

What a treasure you are

A priceless gift from Heaven

To this thankful heart

And I want to take this lifetime

To celebrate you

This child, this precious, beautiful girl, is definitely Heaven-sent. She blesses me every day, in ways big and small. And I wonder sometimes if I am doing the same for her.

If anything I do could ever come close.

I’d been thinking that day about 1 Corinthians 13 – you know, the love chapter. It’s read so commonly at every wedding we attend, I wonder if people even pay attention anymore. I’m certainly guilty of glossing over it from time to time.

⁴ Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. ⁵ It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. ⁶ Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. ⁷ It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Annie is patient. Annie is kind.

She is slow to anger and quick to forgive.

I could go through this verse and remove every ‘love’ and substitute her name, and it would still fit.

This child embodies pure, unadulterated love and joy, every moment of every day.

And as I was thinking about this, I realized that very shamefully, the same could not be said for me. Not even close.

This child – this kind, generous, compassionate child – is what she is in spite of me.

I want to be more like her.

More worthy of being her mother.

More deserving of this wonderful daughter God has entrusted to me.

I want to celebrate you Annie – today and every day.

Happy Birthday, sugar… and thank you… for the best 8 years of my life.

Annie and the Bee

My Annabelle is in 1st grade, and she has signed up to compete in a spelling bee.  She found out about the bee on Friday – and it is this Tuesday night.  Not much time to prepare, but she’s up for the challenge.

More challenging is the fact that this bee is open to the entire county, not divided by age, and it includes kids through the 8th grade.

[Actually the rules state that it is for kids through 8th grade or 16 years of age, but somehow I'm thinking that if you're 16 years old in the 8th grade, a spelling bee probably isn't your thing.]

I’m really proud of her for taking this on. 

Don’t get me wrong – we don’t think she’s going to win.  In fact, if you ask her she’ll tell you that she’s entering the first round of a spelling bee.  We figure if she can get through the first round, the rest is gravy.

She’s a great little speller, but a 7 year old against a 16 year old is hardly fair.  I blame the organizers for not having a better system.  But I give lots of credit to my spunky little girl for wanting to do it anyway.  She isn’t afraid to go up against kids more than twice her age, even knowing she’s going to lose.  Once she saw Akeelah, she mapped out her path pretty quickly.  “I’m going to do that some day,” she told me.  And I have no doubt that she will.

Gumption, she’s got. 

She’s so smart, so brave, so confident.  She’s fearless.  There’s nothing she thinks she can’t do and do it well, and she always, always goes for it.  She never gives up, never backs down.  She’s so tiny for her age, and yet so scrappy.  So determined.  So much wiser than I am.

Once upon a time, I was like her.  I would put myself out there.  Once upon a time I, too, would go for it.

I lost that somewhere along the way.  I lost my confidence and my courage.  But I look at this little girl and I admire her tremendously; she makes me think I could get it back.  She inspires me to do better - to be better.

In many ways, my young daughter is a role model for me.

On Tuesday night, I’ll be the proudest Momma in the building, regardless of the outcome.  The first round of the spelling bee this year is just practice for next year – the year that she wins it all. 

I know she can do it.  And even better, she knows she can, too.

Smart girl.

Lucky me.