I love you. When God gave you to us, it was the biggest surprise of my life. When we found out you were coming, Daddy jumped up and down all around our little apartment. I read twelve books about pregnancy and what to eat and how to sleep so I could give you the best start possible. I read to you before you were born. We prayed for you every day since we found out you were on your way. I love you.
I love your sweet spirit. You make me a better mom. Your patience is far greater than my own, and you inspire me to be more like you. When Goo came along, I worried about how to teach you to be a big sister, because I never had siblings. But I didn’t teach you; you taught me. From the moment you met your sisters, you were the embodiment of love. You share to a fault, love like no other, and give until it hurts. I love you.
I love your love of learning. You are in first grade right now, but you write like a junior high student and read like a college professor. When you were two years old, I had to explain the water cycle to you because you wouldn’t stop asking questions about the rain until you absolutely understood. I love you.
I love you’re creativity. Your crazy outfits sometimes make me want to hide your mismatched clothes, but I love that you express yourself in zany ways, and don’t care if it’s not what’s expected in the fashion world. You don’t buy into the media messages that girls should dress inappropriately. You’re creative, expressive, and modest. I love you.
I love your hugs. You have always been affectionate, and while I was never surprised by this, given your hug-crazy Mommy, it continually amazes me how much love you pour into your sisters and your friends. I love you.
I love your kindness. You will be friends with anybody, regardless of abilities, nationality, age, appearance, or gender. You genuinely like everyone. And while I pray that your heart will be guarded from those who would misuse that kindness, I hope you never lose that all-encompassing love for others. I love you.
I love your courage. You’re not afraid to stand up for what’s right. You’re not afraid to back out of a game or group of friends that are behaving in a way that is wrong. You know what’s right and wrong, and you choose do what’s right, even if it makes you the exception. You’re so brave. I love you.
I love your honesty. You’re a kid, and a human, so sometimes you make mistakes. Once you threw your dinner in the garbage and told me you ate it. Once you cheated on a math speed drill. And those are wrong. But after? You came to me, and to your teacher, and told us what you did. You apologized for your bad choices. And you didn’t even get in trouble. Because I love that I can trust you to do what’s right. And even if you don’t sometimes, I can trust you to come to me if there’s a problem. I love you.
I know I’ve told you that God gave you to me, and that means it’s my job to teach you how to grow to be the best kid, and someday woman, you can be. But that also means that you’re teaching me. About love. About trust. About acceptance, courage, and passion. Punkin, as far as the universe is end-to-end, I love you. As far as the highest cloud to the deepest ocean, I love you. There is nothing that can ever change that. I love you, always and forever.