ten years

My dear Morgan,

Happy birthday. You're ten today! I realize this is a big day and a big number. As much as you despise being the center of the spotlight, you do enjoy the attention that your day brings.

It's beautiful outside today - an unusual high predicted near 70 degrees - and this is so very much like the day we brought you home from the hospital. Balmy, mild, warm sun. Dad and I sat on the front porch that afternoon and stared down at our sleeping baby resting at our feet in the car seat. We were only able to think about you in terms of hours and days, hardly in years. Or decades.

Since those first waking moments, we've watched you grow and thrive and fine-tune yourself. After ten years of letters, it's easy to see that you are just a more refined version of the original. You've shed away some things that no longer matter, and held onto the ones that make up the real Morgan.

Things like sports, music, and reading still remain at the core of who you are. And I'd venture a guess that these things will stick with you for a long time.

On a fall afternoon, sitting beside Dad on the couch is a sure thing, wearing your Lions jersey watching every pass (and interception). When the Summer Olympics aired last August, you were hooked on every sport, cheering on the USA. And now, you're glued to the NCAA tourney and studying your brackets. What a dedicated sports fan you are. But in case there was any doubt, merely spectating isn't enough. You're an athlete and only starting to scratch the surface of your capabilities.

This year I had the privilege of coaching your Trinity basketball team and your Upward basketball team. And Morgan? You are a great baller! You have court awareness, the ability to anticipate, and the drive and dedication to be successful. It was so fun to watch you play and see the difference a year has made in your skills.

Listening to music is still a priority. We kept the new Britt Nicole album from the library for weeks, and you played it constantly while following along with the lyric pages in the privacy of your room. And just like sports, you aren't merely an observer. You're also excelling at playing the piano. Sight reading is your specialty, and now that you can read music so well, I think it motivates you to spontaneously sit at the keys and easily work through whatever new pieces you've been assigned. Sometimes I steal a peek at you practicing. I love to watch your eyes lock on the music, your hands already knowing just where to go. New this year is the recorder. I have to admit, it's no piano. But Dad and I are looking forward to hearing your class blow out Hot Cross Buns at the concert later this year. 

 

And books. Well, you've always enjoyed books. You read at a much higher age level, which is impressive, but it comes with drawbacks. Much of the content in the books you (would) enjoy is geared toward older kids and their older kid struggles. In other words, it hasn't really been advantageous to read about 6th grade problems because you haven't arrived in 6th grade yet. And I'm not interested in getting you there any sooner than you already are. In the meantime, you're more than happy with all the great Natalie Grant and Sophie books you received for Christmas.

 

Expanding is your love for the outdoors. I remember how much you disliked walking barefoot in the grass or even in the sand. And now you love the beach, camping and running around in our yard with the boys.

This year you've made some definite choices about what you choose to wear. And because you're so tight-lipped about school, I don't know if your sense of fashion comes from friends or your own personal preference. It may be a bit of both. I did notice a lot of Chuck Taylors this year which you asked for at Christmas. But even when your classmates wear dresses, you'd rather pass and stick to the safety of the school uniform. Comfort wins. Fortunately I'm still able to mandate some fanciness on special occasions and holidays, even if it comes with a muffled complaint from you.

This school year you were concerned about your 4th grade teacher. Let's just say her reputation doesn't ooze sweetness, and I think you were a bit uncertain how things would go based on stories you'd heard and things you'd witnessed in the hall. Do you remember asking me if you could attend 4th grade at another school? I've told you before how Mr. Pfannkuch was that same teacher for me. From what I could hear walking past his door, he seemed intense in the classroom, and I had well-founded assumptions about being his student. Coincidentally, he also had a science specialty. As you know, however, Mr. Pfannkuch ended up being my favorite teacher of all time. You haven't come out with specifics, but I think you secretly like your 4th grade teacher, too.

Ten may seem big, but you still have an innocence about you that is endearing. I love that you still pretend. When you're with your American Girl dolls or Lego Friends, you still imagine and make believe and play like no one's watching. You'll also tolerate shows that your Andrew and Matthew enjoy. And the best? When we give you permission to use our phones to shoot videos with the boys. The news reporting and weather and the we-just-had-twins-at-the-hospital video shot by the proud father (Andrew) and starring the proud mother (you) holding two dolls. Don't forget the big brother role played by Matthew. These are the moments that remind me you're still our little girl.

Sibling rivalry is at it's peak in our house right now, so I'm always taking note of peaceful play. Ironically, you seem to be at your best with your brothers when you're either in charge or engaged in some sort of competition: basketball, soccer, or some other game the three of you have made up in the back room. It's not until someone cheats or gets hurt that the show is over, but it's so very sweet while it lasts.

So while we hold dear to the innocence, Dad and I do work on helping you thrive in all the right ways. Putting away all your clean clothes is torture, and cutting your own meat is just as bad, I know, but you've heard me tell the story of Aunt Sarah and drying my own hair. We've done so much for you for so long that sometimes we forget how capable you really are. MORE than capable, in fact. And now asking you to step up to the plate is challenging.

That being said, however, there are some things that you ask of us that I will hold on to as you slip into these tween years. At the end of your shower, you still call me in to make sure your hair is rinsed well. You ask me to style your hair before school almost every morning. And we still listen to your prayers and lovingly tuck you in each night.

Braving a sleepover at a friend's house hasn't happened yet, but we've had two here. Staying up late and spending time with a bestie is thrilling for you, and hearing the giggles come from the basement confirms that for us.

Having brothers and male cousins has only helped your sense of adventure. You're much more inclined to take a walk through the woods because missing out on the fun would be more awful than the fear of the unknown. You're the perfect companion for them - a sporty leader full of ideas, yet responsible enough to talk them off the ledge. And considering the birth order of your cousin crew, it allows you to also play the big sister/momma role with our brood of boys. I know they adore you as much as you do them.




Much to your dismay, you are not yet the owner of a phone or tablet or iPod Touch. And honestly? You're doing just fine without. It saves us from an unnecessary battle over time spent or content or any other number of questionable things that a fourth grader just isn't ready for. This is just one of the many areas where I find myself struggling between keeping you in the bubble and letting you out into the gigantically wide open world. I realize you will be out there... someday. But not today. So we're easing in. Tackling the questions one at a time. Explaining things as they arise. Not trying to shield you from everything, but instead showing you the ropes. And maybe, just maybe, we'll work on some common ground for a mobile device in the near future.

You are so much dad on the exterior, what with your blue eyes and fair skin and moles that seem to appear monthly. And yet you are so much me on the inside. No, you don't have to buy your own can of Aqua Net and maybe you're not raising your hand to sing the solo in the Christmas program at school, but the subtle sass, the critical comments, the easy A's, the sharpest memory, the ability to anticipate. Gosh, Morgan, there's just so much emotional resemblance. You are a mirror for me, reflecting so much of who I am. I can't help believe that being a first-born mom parenting a first-born daughter contributes to that imitating.

Someday I hope you get to know first-hand the beauty of motherhood. Oh sure, right now you swear up and down that there will be no babies in your womb ever because, of course, all the pain. But hear me out. No matter how you arrive at motherhood, remember that only then will you be able to close that circle completely and have the most full understanding of the joy and worry and pride and doubt and satisfaction that comes with being someone's mom.

While celebrating ten years of you, I can't help but think of the last ten years of me. Being a momma transforms every single part of a woman. It has transformed me. A little more compassion, a little more understanding, a lot more love. A whole decade of being called Mom is pretty remarkable. It's humbling and educational and even sometimes scary. But Morgan, it's so worth it.

For your birthday this year, I gifted you a journal for us to share. It's a special place where we get to talk to each other on paper, to share and confide. I had written an inscription on the first page with instructions, and your face lit up when you read my words, giddy and eager to get started. Another avenue for us to communicate and keep our connection.

I hope that the next decade of you is just as breathtaking and remarkable as these first ten years, Morgan. And I pray that you keep Christ at the center of it all as you face new challenges and achieve new accomplishments. I love you, Morgan Grace.

XOXO,
Mom

Trust God from the bottom of your heart; don’t try to figure out everything on your own. Listen for God’s voice in everything you do, everywhere you go; He’s the one who will keep you on track.
Proverbs 3:5-6 MSG