Monday, June 24, 2013

On Trails and Towers

Elisa, 

I was convinced this day would be a disaster. I had mumbled and grumbled out of the driveway that I sure hoped the trail was covered so you wouldn't bake in the sun while I wallowed in guilt. We didn't know exact directions. I had read something about a 40 minutes to the tower, and now that I thought about it, that was an eternity. Why didn't your daddy think about these things? It took a winding river of a road and a face of a black bear until I could relax. 

Sometimes, I crush the life out of things because I believe the tight fist of control can save. I've bought the lie that if you plan well enough, you'll never have mistakes, whether or not you can learn from them. It is fear masquerading as provision, protection. 

May you never inherit your mother's white knuckles. You'll miss so much if you do. 

You'll never see mountain laurel if you stop at loose rock steps. 

  



You'll miss flame-bursts of columbine if you step back from bees.



You won't even reach towers if you stop where the trail slants.


And it'll take faith in worn steps to see views like these:





You're the reason I want to keep climbing what scares me.


You're teaching me how to live wide-handedly. May you plan only to be amazed and delighted. And rest knowing He's good, good wherever he leads.


Love,
Your Mama

Monday, June 3, 2013

Happy Half Birthday, Elisa!

So, taking some inspiration from this chica here, I decided to write you a letter, Elisa, to celebrate your 6 month birthday (I can hardly believe it).

Elisa,

So, you and me, chiquita banana, we've been doing this family thing for a whole half a year now. I can't believe that this little bundle

 is now this big girl so full of life.


It has not been easy for us, no ma'am. I will not pretend like it was.



You've had a hard time eating and sleeping and gaining weight, a lot of tummy trouble, a lot of cries that made me cry and crash down to my knees. Being a mommy has made me realize how much I need grace like air to breathe. Your desire for things the way you want them (i.e. sleeping only on our chests for the first three weeks of your life) has made the rule follower in me learn that little people don't follow them.

Yet, you have made me richer in more ways than I can count.

You have taught me patience, gentleness, and wonder.


You have taught me to laugh at myself, to sing, to not take things so seriously, to go slow and laugh with delight when another person walks into the room.

 

You are my greatest gift.

Let me tell you a little about you.

Today at your check up, you were 13 pounds, 12 ounces (10th percentile), 25 inches long (50th percentile), with a head circumference of 17 inches (75th percentile). I always worry if you're big enough. The pediatrician says, "somebody has to be the 10th percentile!" May you be like Shakespeare wrote, "Though she be but little, she is fierce."

Fierce is a great word for you. You're intense. Alert. Focused. Smart.


You're incredibly aware of your surroundings: especially of people, especially of me. You're a social butterfly  who is vibrant and outgoing. I've met more people in our neighborhood in these last six months than we have in the past three years.


You make me laugh.

These past few weeks you've exploded with new tricks.

You can suck your toes.

You can hold yourself up at your favorite toy, the activity table.


You can scoot on your back, turn over on your belly to sleep, and sit up! All this week!


You know what you love. You love when we sing or dance or shake and shimmy. Your favorite song is "My God is So Big, So Strong and So Mighty, There's Nothing My God Cannot Do" (don't forget it!).

You love being outside and trying to eat grass and clover :)


You love to eat, especially pears and avocado.


You can entertain yourself with your Very Hungry Caterpillar book for a long, long time.


You love your daddy and stories and waking up between us.


You're our treasure. Elisa, baby girl, you are making us more and more like Jesus. We're learning to see the world, see people through eyes of wonder and pleasure and delight and love. We're learning that our to-do lists aren't as urgent as your need to try to eat the shamrock plant or sing another round of a silly song in Spanish. We're learning to love you, love people, for who they are and not how much love they can offer back.


Yours is our favorite face to see.

Happy 6 month birthday, honey bunches of oats, our best girl. We love you.


Love, Mommy