four years

Dear Morgan,

Today you are four years old. And you know it. You've spent weeks anticipating your birthday, looking at the interactive wooden calendar hanging on the kitchen wall, asking when March will come, and then watching day by day until we reached 24. Four years ago I felt the exact same way, studying the calendar for weeks, excitedly awaiting your arrival into our lives, wondering when we would actually get to meet you.

This last year has been a very transitional one for you in many regards. We've spent the last several months attempting to move you - our superstar sleeper - out of a daily nap. You spend time each day after lunch in your bed with a pile of books, but often I peek into your room after 45 minutes and find you fast asleep, eyes closed, book in hand. And as much as I'd like you to keep sleeping, I gently stroke your hair until you wake up, knowing that this will help us avoid a bedtime catastrophe.

Sadly, you have also left the toddler clothing department and moved ahead to girls sizes. I look back at those darling outfits, seeing the innocence of the styles, and wish I would have cared more. In a strange way, I never bothered to say good-bye and now I am mourning the loss of that era. Your awareness of clothing has started to increase as you recognize trademarked characters, relate colors and patterns to outfits, and become more selective in your own choices as you dress each day. Shopping for age-appropriate clothing is proving to be much more difficult, and I wonder if there will be more sewing for you in my future

Preschool has made it obvious just how tall you really are and how much you have grown. It's also there that we have become more aware of your "public personality", the one grabs hold of your comfort level and and sucks it back inside to be safely guarded. I want so badly to pinpoint your fears, to know what it is that causes you to retreat. There are times when I observe you missing out on the fun, but I also know that forcing you into those situations prematurely would hardly be enjoyable. And so, Morgan, my prayer for you is about the process, not the result. In this way, you forever remind me that the journey matters most, not the milestone.

While most of your friends are simply playmates, there is someone special you have allowed into your circle. Marah is a favorite friend to you, and her family is a favorite to ours. While you don't realize it, your connection is more meaningful than just your shared interest in pink, princesses and preschool. With nearly a year that separates you, it's hard to say how long this friendship will thrive, but I am very thankful for Marah, for the dimension she brings to your life right now, and the family from which she comes.

Loving others is not difficult for you at all, especially Andrew. As you pull off his hat and mittens and unzip his coat, I watch how he smiles at you, knowing that he is being cared for by his big sister. You enjoy that role. So much so that you become a little too responsible for his choices. I remind you at times that I am Andrew's mother and quickly you retort, "I'm a Mommy, too. For all my kids." Meaning your babies, and golf club holder, and George, and whomever else you deem a child of yours. You do have a natural ability to nurture and I enjoy seeing that unfold with the special people in your life.

At random times I'll catch your eye and tell you how much I love you. When I buckle your seat belt, when I help you with your socks, when we're playing Chutes & Ladders. I want you to hear those words unassociated with your behavior, good or bad. I want you to know in your heart that the love I have for you is unconditional. Just as randomly, your response to my profession is, "But I love Daddy, too." In those moments, I agree out loud with you, stating that I also love him. Daddy is special to you in ways I cannot be special. And knowing that the design of your relationship with him is a part of God's plan, knowing that your heart swoons for him the way that He intended, is amazing to witness.

As I write you a birthday letter each year, I can't help but think about the years that are still to come and what observations I might be reflecting on in the future. Will your passion for music land you a solo in the school Christmas program? Will your eagerness to learn put you at the top of the class? Will your quiet personality select friends carefully? Will you always choose fruit first?

Whatever path you take, wherever God leads your life, Morgan, know that Daddy and I love you. That we trust in Him to be your ultimate care giver. "A man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps." Proverbs 16:9.

Happy birthday, my sweet Morgan Grace.

Always,

Mom