Somehow, I became the mother to an 8 year old.
She has been rubbing it in, too.
I am about to
create a family rule that my children
are not allowed to say their ages
after they turn 4 and they cannot
talk about what grade they are in
because waterproof mascara can only do so much.
I love this girl so much and
her birthday always brings me to
a soft spot of gratitude.
Too many times, I wondered if
she was going to be with us for very long.
She was born with a broken heart
and I held on tight from that first moment.
I am eight years learning how to loosen my grip.
Letting her grow and become who God made her to be.
Learning to trust Him with her life.
Learning to allow her independence and freedom.
Always fearing I'm not doing enough for her.
Fearing I'm holding too tight.
Fearing I'm not holding tight enough.
That is hard with all of my children.
How did God send His Son to this earth?
I spend my days trying to protect my kids
from this same very earth that God willingly
sent His Son to be treated cruelly in.
How did He do it?
Like I said.
Her birthday
always always
brings me to a place of gratitude.
Eight years.
I love you, Darah.
Happiest of Happy Birthdays to you!
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