eleven years

Dear Morgan,

Happy eleventh birthday!

Another year has past, another year of your growing and learning and soaring.

One of my favorite parts of writing these birthday letters is studying the past year of pictures and choosing which ones most accurately represent you during this time in your life. I was never one for keeping up with baby books, but writing these letters and using photos to watch the changes from baby to toddler to school-aged girl has been incredibly rewarding. I love being able to reveal the history of you and who you are becoming - a better documentary of your life than any baby book could provide.

So year eleven. What have you been up to?

You are still cautious, but have flourished socially with your closest friends and family. It has been lovely to see God at work, answering the prayers I began all the way at the end of second grade for your path to cross with other girls who valued true friendship. Now more than ever, I am so grateful for the relationships you do have. This year, a new classmate has seamlessly been added to your crew of girls, and while you don't reveal most things, I do see the way you interact when I watch from a distance... at the bowling alley, during sports, eating at the back table while I'm sequestered to the kitchen with Dad and the boys. The giggles say it all.

As a fifth grader, there have been many more opportunities at school for you to explore. Beginning Bells, Beginning Band, more sports teams, 6th Grade Math, changing for PE, and a loud and rowdy cafeteria experience. You have done a remarkable job keeping up with these new responsibilities, knowing which day to pack a PE uniform or xylophone, staying on top of deadlines, and accomplishing everything on the list. We did have one situation involving a box of Narni-O's and two straight nights with a 10:00 bedtime. And darn it all, if you didn't get an A+.

Most things come effortlessly for you. However, you did actually learn a lesson, about practicing your xylophone. Despite knowing more about music than most kids in your class and breezing through the entire music book within the first two months of band, you got your first-ever B. You didn't practice, didn't get parent initials on your worksheet, and therefore, dropped your grade in the easiest class ever. This was agonizing for me, knowing how smart you are, especially when it comes to music. Although I'm certain it bothered me far more than it did you. Another indication that you are your mother's daughter (and so am I).

Your life is pretty orderly, and that's the way you prefer it. Systematic. When it comes to plans for the future, I actually think you may already have an idea about how things will go. Your preference for high school has already been expressed a few times, and we are fairly certain you want to be a collegiate Spartan. We shall see. Things may change, and while that's a tough pill to swallow for people like you and I, the possibility that your plans don't actually come to fruition is a very real thing. For now, just focus on fifth grade and we'll take care of the rest.

The past two years, you have been given a monthly allowance, and wow, are you a saver! You insist on having money in reserves before making a purchase, and are willing to wait until the numbers work. Being disciplined with your finances is a fantastic quality to have!

Being as steward of your money has also slowed down your interest in having a device - a smartphone, an iPod touch, an iPad, a screen. Dad and I gave you the green light if you wanted to make the purchase yourself. I think it is something you have wanted for a while, and most certainly something you can afford, but the idea of exchanging your cash for such a thing? Nope. Not ready. And neither are your friends (or their parents). This is just fine with us.

In your down-time, you still want to play and pretend and do things that others your age may find childish. You've been known to organize performances with the boys and record fake newscasts and design LEGO cities. In fact, your LEGO Friends don't just sit on display, but have places to go and things to do, directed by your imagination. I love this about you, Morgan. It's something you have always enjoyed. I remember at two years old, you lined up those chubby Little People on the living room floor and one by one, they received Holy Communion from Cookie Monster. All pretend play, and yet a perfect mirror of our life. I'm tucking moments like those into the file cabinet of my brain, especially now, as I feel like we are approaching the cusp of change. I'm not ready for the little girl days to be gone.

Piano is still a top extra-curricular, and I still think music is your thing, but somehow you have lost desire to sing. I miss hearing your voice, Morgan. Even at church you barely mumble enough to be audible. You understand so much about music and have such a beautiful voice but have become paralyzed from using it. The reason you give is that other people are watching you. I'm not sure if that's the truth or an excuse, but I also don't want to push you so far into singing on Sunday mornings that church becomes this place you dread. At the same time, I also want you to know how much God loves to hear you worship Him. He doesn't care what you sound like or who is looking. So while Dad and I have these expectations that you participate in worship, it feels like a delicate dance that we don't want to force you into. We want you to worship from the heart, not because your parents said so.

You still have a strong love for sports. Organized teams, in the front yard, or watching from the couch, it doesn't matter.You are passionate about your teams and have a committed spirit to them. Being competitive also plays a big role, although I must say, that comes out more often around the boys (brothers and cousins) than on the TCT sidelines.





































This past year your hair was the longest it has ever been, and required a great deal of maintenance and care. As beautiful as it was, the outdoor conditions of summer required your hair be tamed with braids and ponytails, and I think it frustrated you to take this step every morning, especially when we went back to school. "This is wasting my time!" you would say to me in the bathroom. Sometime in the late fall you agreed to a haircut. The finished style was so modern and mature, and you donated your hair to a local organization for kids.While you have had a much easier time caring for your hair, I do miss those long blonde locks. Your natural beauty really shines, Morgan, when your hair is free and not so precise. And let's be honest - you're not really one to be very precise with styling your hair!

Sibling rivalry is at an all-time high in our house, and I can't really say anyone is to blame in particular. In most times of conflict, you usually just boss your way out of the situation, but sometimes your feelings do feel the pain and frustration, and you retreat to your room. Your relationships with your brothers are tight, and yet also tumultuous which is why sometimes it hurts so bad. Whether you know it or not, Andrew and Matthew both are so vital to you: safety nets in uncertainty, nudges toward adventure, companions for play, practice for leadership, an audience for comedy, and scapegoats for misbehaving. They boost your confidence, notice your beauty and abilities, and still give you enough push-back to let you know they aren't doormats.

I mentioned earlier that it seems like we are getting ready to knock on the door of change, and I don't just mean the continual physical changes that happen every year as your grow. Not even the emotional ones that come, too. It's the relational changes that are looming in the not so distant future. With maturity comes independence, and just as you outgrew your needs as a baby, so will you outgrow your needs as a tween. A little less of Mom and Dad, and a little more Morgan.

Like a pile of sand in an open hand, I'm trying to gently cup the grains as they rest in my palm comfortably. Gripping too tight will make the sand compress and escape. Being careless and opening my palm too much will have the same affect - the sand will escape. But holding with just the right touch will allow the sand to remain. So Dad and I both try to hold on gently to you, Morgan. We use an enormous amount of restraint to make sure we converse with you, not probe. We watch from a distance without hovering. You navigate and steer, and we only take the wheel when absolutely necessary. We aren't always great at those things, in fact sometimes we really are too much, but we know that your success depends largely on your ability to gain confidence through independence, and so we try to adhere to those ideals. If you fall off that tightrope you've decided to walk, we might not always catch you, but we sure will help you clean the wound and find a Band-Aid. We always will.

For now, though, we are enjoying a sacred time with you. Evenings after the boys go to bed are special for the three of us as we play games or quiz you on vocab words. Sometimes, we'll even catch a cooking competition together on Food Network or watch a movie that the boys aren't quite ready for. In a world where time so is fleeting, and in our house where there are many needs to be fulfilled, it's a gift that we can spend this good time with you, Morgan.

Often times when we leave town from a weekend visit, G.G. will be there to send us off. And when we hug and kiss goodbye, she's sure to say "Take the Lord with you." It may seem like she's merely wishing us well as we drive home across the state, but actually, her sentiment is more. It's one I pray for you, Morgan. That you take the Lord with you in all you do. It won't always be easy, and it won't always be at the forefront of your choices. But take Him... in the streets, in the crowds, in the home, all alone. Oh, and if there's anything that might spark your interest in singing again, this old gospel just might do the trick. Google it sometime.




















Morgan, I love you. Always and forever.

Mom

"The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save.  He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing."  Zephaniah 3:17

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

nine years

Happy ninth birthday, Morgan!

You haven't hit double digits, but this is most definitely a milestone year in your life. In OUR life. You see, this birthday marks the median to 18 - we are now half-way through our mental jar of marbles representing our weeks with you. These are such critical years of value formation, the years where you still ask why, the years where Dad and I have a huge responsibility in making sure the seeds we choose to plant are watered and cared for and nurtured. Nine is a big deal.

Seeing you grow physically has only reinforced that number. You're so tall! And I'm not the only one to take notice. It's true that you have gained a couple inches this year. Your adult teeth are coming in so straight and your smile suddenly has a maturity about it. Your closet is thinning out as many of your clothes are no longer fitting in length. And your ears are now pierced! The same age I was when my Aunt took me to get mine done.

With all this growth has come coordination. Your athletic abilities have really started to develop. This year we enrolled you in AYSO soccer at your request, a sport you enjoyed learning about and playing, but not one Dad and I think you will love.

Basketball seems to be more your speed right now. Upward Basketball just wrapped up at our church and it's there that we saw some sparkle. Watching you dribble, drive, and shoot to score during games was both surprising and impressive. That experience has translated into a constant desire to shoot in the driveway and watch college basketball on TV. We are already having so much fun with March Madness!

This past year you professed your love for the Spartans and future commitment to attend college in East Lansing. I'm not sure if this was influence of your uncles and aunt or MSU's favorable year in mainstream athletics that you enjoyed watching. Either way, you love having a team to root for and wear the green and white with pride as much as possible.

Piano has been going well and just like basketball, you can play without looking down. This is a sign of dedicated practice and natural skill. Your first recital was at the end of second grade and it's there that Dad and I were in awe of your bravery to perform without hesitation. It wasn't so long ago that you were a frightened preschooler who wouldn't stand on the steps at church to sing with your classmates. And here we are today, watching your courage grow.

Now that you can read music, the piano is a magnet for you. Seldom do I remind you to practice. At Christmas you relished the chance to play (two-handed chords) from my old books. I love to watch you at the keyboard, to see your eyes maintain contact with the notes, your hands knowing just where to go to play sweet melodies.

And just like a record scratching to stop beautiful music, the piano will suddenly deliver a clammer of low notes as the fat hand of a three year old tries to create a duet with you. Yes, Matthew loves to be near you, both to soak in all your sisterly love and to push your buttons. In these moments of unexpected interruption you are beyond annoyed, but most times you enjoy your responsible role of big sister.


















While you typically play it safe with Matthew, it's with Andrew that you're more adventurous. He brings out this side of you, ready to explore the unknown, play new games or be more daring. With Andrew as your front-line, you'll go along with almost anything, as long as he takes the first step.

I love that Andrew coaxes you out of the comfortable because your dedication to routine is so devout - you eat your toast in a peanut butter, jam, and cinnamon sugar pattern. You won't empty the clean silverware in the morning until your teeth are brushed. Belts are regularly rotated in your uniform pants each week. Consistency is your cozy. The apple doesn't fall far, my dear.

Your bedtime has started moving. I knew this day would come eventually. You've always been a super sleeper, Morgan. And Dad and I have heard scrambled words tumble out of your mouth plenty of times as you sleep, but this year you've actually started walking in your sleep. At the end of one night as Dad and I came into our room, we found you sleeping in our bed. Another time, we found you had placed your book there. The most bizarre? We heard grunting from the dark hallway and found you standing with a firm grip on all of your bedding, struggling to finish stripping your bed. As a kid, I remember waking up in the middle of sleep walking, too, doing that exact same thing with my sheets.

Spending time with Dad alone is still one of your favorite things to do. Last fall he took you to a Lions football game and you enjoyed every second of that special outing, especially watching Matthew Stafford and eating popcorn. He's still the fun one, and being near him is where you like to be.


















What else about our Morgan Grace? You enjoy scanning the Sunday Comics, watching PBS's newest shows, playing sports of any kind, accessorizing Kit and Ruthie, and reading mysteries. You're just as happy with a book in your hand as you are a bowl of ice cream.








































Third grade has been good to you. School work still comes easy, and you've even mastered Ga-ga Ball at recess. While many of the girls in your class are on the swings or playing house, you're in the pit and sure to let us know at dinner when you've won a match that day.



















This school year has also brought about a shift in your friendships. Navigating relationships is hard to do at any age, and like it or not, you've had to start recognizing what good friends look like. I've been praying for God to send a new pal into your life and He has delivered. You have a small crew that you occasionally share about, and two in particular whose names are mentioned most often. When you were little, I never thought about the possibility that the children of my closest friends may not be yours. Like you, Dad and I have our crew, but because you are not in the same grades as the other families' kids, it's more challenging for you to connect. I realize now that I should be more intentional about helping you forge new friendships, inviting girls over despite not being tight with their moms, and making more plans with our family friends so the distance is lessened.

My eyes have been opened a little more this year about what it means to parent a girl. Many of the challenges you face are no different than what I did at the same age - social situations at the lunch table, third grade classroom politics, recess. But the world is a different place now, and while I'm not eager to expose you to it, I do understand that keeping you hidden under a rock just isn't wise.

The questions you've been brave enough to ask this year are big questions. I'm thrilled you have courage to ask them. And I'm even more honored to get to answer them. I always remind you that Dad and I will tell you the truth about anything because what I've discovered as you grow is that I cannot protect you from the world. You will be exposed to tragedy and temptation, you will associate with people who make damaging choices, you will hear and see inappropriate messages even from people you consider close. It's not avoiding those things that matters most; it's knowing how to make the right choices along the way that does.

We spend many minutes each night lying in your bed discussing the day. These moments together are when you allow me to impart wisdom. While you may not immediately apply my words to all your situations, I know you are hearing me, and will someday find those tools helpful when the need arises.

There will come a time in a few short years when you don't allow me in so close. You will be eager to test your wings a bit and see how well you do on your own. I pray, Morgan, that our imparted knowledge and Truth will guide you along the way. We are half-way to launch. May you constantly be "rooted and built up in Him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing in thankfulness." Colossians 2:6-8

Happy birthday, Morgan Grace.
I love you dearly,
Mom

eight years

Happy birthday, Morgan Grace.

You are eight today, and it's the first time I've really felt the cliche about kids growing up so quickly. I don't know if it's because we can legally ditch your car seat or because the distance to double digits seems imminent, but it's quite alarming how fast this day has come.
























The past year still has all the freshness of your newest endeavors, and yet, we've started waving goodbye to milestones and I wonder how that can even be possible.

More teeth have been lost, although for you, that is not a thrilling landmark in your childhood. Rather it's more of a nuisance as you forbid anyone to go near near your mouth when those teeth dangle. And so we watch and wait for weeks on end as you eat awkwardly one-sided and speak with a funny lisp until the day you can no longer bear it.




















Your lovely blonde locks have grown longer than ever. It took some convincing to trim just a couple inches over the winter as you've become more particular about your looks. You may not be the girliest in the room, but it's clear that your appearance matters to you. On some school mornings, I'll knock on your bedroom door to check your progress, and I'm reminded of my days as a little girl in front of my bedroom mirror. I don't know when exactly you'll encounter the pressure of measuring up to others, but  you need to hear and know that God made you in his likeness. You are beautiful and special, not just because your parents have told you so, but because you are His.




Your brothers sure do think you're something special. Andrew asks for your companionship daily to shoot hoops or play Legos or whatever interest you might have at the moment. Anything to be with you. And Matthew. You definitely have the big sister thing going on with him - the kind of bond that teeters on compassionate motherhood with all your first-born, in-charge wisdom. He falls for it every time, and you soak it up. I truly believe you will always view Matthew as the baby that needs rescuing. And Andrew will always be the brother that fails to meet your exceptionally high standards. You often forget the distance between your age and Andrew's, and lack compassion as he navigates all the learning you've already obtained. And yet he's one of your best friends.

Also topping your list of favorites is your father. You love to challenge him when I'm not around, to see how far he'll bend before he breaks. But it's not just shenanigans with the two of you. On Sunday afternoons you work together on your comprehension homework. You share a love for the NFL and college basketball. And Daddy is still the one who can teach you and reach you in ways I'm not always able.

As with most of your external relationships, you need time. This has been evident with our special neighbors from Trinity. While you dearly love both sets of your grandparents, you - and our entire family, for that matter - have developed a unique grandparent-like relationship with Mr. and Mrs. B.  I had no idea when I sent you off to preschool that we would be so close to your teacher and her husband. But it wasn't always this way. I think for a long while you could only see Mrs. B as your teacher, and that respect for her couldn't translate into anything more until you were far and away removed from the preschool years. Now? Our families are attached in a special way that goes beyond friendship.


















One of your favorite school friends is Addison. Second grade has solidified your friendship with her, and I'm glad you've found a connection. Your teachers have also told us that you are a good friend to others - observing first and choosing playmates second. On Wednesdays I'm able to catch a glimpse of you in the cafeteria as your brothers and I walk from MOPS to Young Five's. You smile and I wave and the moment passes. What I love most about that Wednesday exchange is the few seconds before we actually meet. From the hallway I see you surrounded by girls, laughing and conversing in a natural way, a way that Daddy and I aren't allowed to see when both of your worlds attempt to co-exist. There's an awkwardness that bubbles up inside of you when a good friend says hello in front of us. Or likewise, when one of us comes into your already-established domain of school or friends. I've always wondered why that compartmentalization happens when, in so many other areas of life, you're able to multi-task so easily.

Sometimes I remind you about your former self - the one who shared in detail about her day at preschool, repeating every line to every song, every schedule and routine during our separation - and when I do, you are utterly amazed at the girl who would be so forthcoming and open. I crave to hear about school, and now you're much more guarded about what you share. "I don't know" is a common answer to our questions, not because you lack the knowledge, but because you choose to stay silent.

I remember asking once about one of your friends, possibly about something she had worn for Casual Day. And it was your response that explained so much: "Why are you asking, is it inappropriate?" Your assumption that I was going to immediately pass judgement stopped me in my tracks. Sometimes Daddy and I are guilty of being critical without realizing. I never want our initial reactions to the information you actually share to prevent you from speaking. But I'll be the first to admit I don't have a poker face and I'm quick to speak (and slower to think). Unfortunately I can already see the apple falling in close proximity to the tree. I hope we can look back together someday and see this change for us.


















You are still an avid reader, and often have three books going at once. I'm not sure how you keep the stories straight! You love Odd Squad and American Girl and sports - watching and practicing whatever's in season. Daddy is always so impressed with your love of the game. But participating? It's not until you've prepared and perfected your skills that you're willing to play sports with others. Pep Squad is the only athletic activity on your resume for now, despite the other opportunities that have come along. My guess is that will change as you get older, and I hope it does - you're coordinated, determined and so capable at anticipating. These skills will take you well beyond the court or field.
























In January you started piano lessons which frustrated you immensely in the first few weeks because of your desire to achieve perfection right out of the gate. The expectations you placed on yourself were great, and when notes didn't come easily or immediately, we saw the side of you that hates struggle. I wish you could understand how good those challenges are for you, how the frustration will shape your character. Someday, Morgan. Someday.























The funnel is growing wider now. As you increase in age, so does your independence. And while I've shared with others before the analogy of holding sand too tight, it's time for me to remember that gentle cupping of the hand every now and then. Like the sand, I don't want you to find the quickest escape possible just because I'm squeezing too tight. Even at eight years old there's a delicate balance between holding on and letting go.

I know right now it seems crazy that your own mom could have ever been a little girl once. But I continue to tell you stories from my childhood, stories that connect us, stories that let you see I was once in your shoes. I talk about the smelly boy next to me in second grade, about my experience with piano lessons, about the teacher I was most frightened of becoming my favorite. You see, Morgan, while you are growing up nearly 30 years after I did, there are some things that never change. Navigating relationships, conquering fears, learning life - you aren't alone.

As you run off into the year ahead, may you remember WHOSE you are so that in all things you can feel God's presence and the safety net of the family who loves you.

I love you dearly,
Mom