SIX [Becks]

Becks Lynae,

I sat down to write this letter, and started by re-reading the letter I wrote you last year. And it seems impossible that I've had a whole year with you as a five year old. I have a huge knot in my throat after reading that letter, because not only has it been a year, but it has been a wonderful year at that. The year you were born I feel like I barely knew what I was getting myself into still with being a mother. And now that you're [already!] six, I for sure know that every day I do not know what I am getting myself into as a mother, but I also know every day you will show up and love me, and that is a deep and true gift.

You continued to grow so much this year, Becks. You started Kindergarten in the fall and you COULD NOT have been more excited about it. On your first day you just took Blythe's hand and walked right into the building. You are very reserved at school, but you make friends easily and whomever you decide is a friend is lucky indeed because you are loyal and kind. You loved PE this year, you adore your teacher, and one of the sweetest things to me is how you would pick Blythe any time you earned a special lunch partner to sit with. When you were awarded leader of the month the hardest part for you was having to walk in front of the whole elementary to go receive it, but your teacher is wonderful and knew you would need a little extra hand to hold to have the courage. But all year long I saw your courage grow, and by this spring you were so excited about your music program. This shocked me because you normally do not like performing in front of others, so we were all looking forward to it.

And then the Coronavirus hit the United States, and school was cancelled for the rest of the year. You took it pretty in stride. You've really missed your friends and your teacher, but all in all you've handled the change really well. However, when the day of your music program arrived [you knew, because we had always said it was the day after my birthday], you burst into tears and we had to sit and just snuggle for a bit and cry. And that was okay too. There have been things that have been sad to let go, like t-ball and music programs and finishing Kindergarten in a normal way, but it has also been a blessing to see you have so much time to play and play and play. I like to think that you'll look back on this time when we were "sheltering in place" at home and remember it fondly. I think you'll remember all the time with your siblings, lots of hikes and trips to the river, and playing hide and seek with the neighbor kids. I think you'll remember having church in the driveway and sending Marco Polos to your teacher and just slower days and dirt under your fingernails.

All of you like to be outside, but you are the most adventurous. When we go to the creek you immediately take your boots off and are knee deep in mud. You're not afraid to pick up worms and prefer to walk barefoot. You have this spirit inside you that is just full-to-bursting, and I think sometimes the parts of you that you hold back when in new situations and around a lot of people, you let loose of when you are outside exploring. This year I had a hard time thinking of something to get you for your birthday, and you were no help at all because all you kept saying you wanted was "a dog and a horse." You got to ride horses for the first time this year when we were in Colorado over the summer. I didn't know if you'd get nervous once you actually got on the large animal, but you've lived it so many times in your imagination every day that you were completely comfortable up on that big horse for the entire two hour ride. Seeing your little body moving in tune with that horse through the mountains was one of the highlights for me this year.

Last fall I was packing away clothes and switching them out for the seasons and passing on what Nan had outgrown. And then I came across this little purple dress and, Becks, it brought me back to summer with you as a two year old. You were stubborn and tiny and you would throw and all out fit when that dress was dirty and I wouldn't let you wear it. It was the only thing you wanted to wear. Every. Single. Day. was a battle. That is when I had to put you on the dryer for time out, which has now become a funny story we tell. But man, girl. That purple dress and the summer of you at age two. I decided to keep it. I folded it up and stuck it in a box and decided I wanted to remember your tiny clenched fists. I wanted to remember being your brick wall, fighting the battle of consistency and outlasting your stubbornness during the day only to fall into bed exhausted at night.

When I folded that dress away I sat and thought about you, sitting in a plastic chair in a kindergarten room, wearing whatever I had laid out for you the night before. There is something about you that is woven into me now-- there is some bond you and I have, like the link that weaves together soldiers after their battles. But that dress is more than a reminder of the stubborn two year old you were: it is evidence to me  of your growth, and of the tenacious, caring six year old you are today.  I hope you never lose the fire that made you clench those impossible small hands of yours into fists-- but I do pray that that fire will burn in you not for your own gain, but for others. I pray that it will be an ignition that carries you deep into discipleship and deep into your passions. I already see you learning how to ride your big feelings like you rode that horse this summer-- you're learning how to control the reigns. And it has been a beautiful thing to see unfold.

You love pretty things and notice when people are dressed nicely. For my birthday you wrote me a card that said "your face is cute." When we went on a hike recently and packed a picnic, you wanted to bring along a coaster for your water bottle. When Sloan had to get a cast earlier this year you were just at his beck and call the entire month and could hardly bare the thought that he may be in pain. You got to see your first movie in the movie theater this summer [Toy Story 4], and like during most movies you ended up in our laps with tears in your eyes, not during scary scenes but during emotional ones. You walked barefoot all the way home from school one day because your shoes would have given you blisters. The next day I made you wear your shoes and you threw a fit the entire way home. You're all in. Or you're all out.

You prefer to sleep with Blythe in her bed. You love every kind of dip available when eating. You're strong and fast and you love to help out when your dad or I are doing a project.  You say things like, "My nose is rusty." When Blythe came running to me to tattle and say you had hit her as hard as you could, you were running close behind and said, "No! I didn't hit her AS HARD as I could." You still know how to push your sisters' buttons better than anyone, but you also make them laugh more than anyone else. You almost always wear your hair in a ponytail, but you also love getting "ready" and having me fix your hair. Your big hopes for this summer are to ride your bike and learn how to swim, and I know you can do it! You love to play games [especially card games], and you beat everyone at Memory. When I think of the word "spunk", I think of you, which is funny because outside the walls of our home I doubt that many would assign that adjective to you.

 

You are our early riser, and you are definitely a morning person. Your dad's favorite thing in the morning are your hugs and just how fresh you are each morning. You have always been so full of life. You were our smallest baby but our loudest crier. Our smallest toddler but our fieriest fighter. And here you are, our six year old, and you're still bursting at the seams with all the good stuff. I pray a lot that you will know the Lord and follow Him, because you do love to follow. This isn't a bad trait-- we need people that know how to follow well and it is the ultimate call of the Christian-- but I pray you have the discernment to know how and whom to follow well. Your heart may be tender, but I pray it always remains a little wild, too. 

 And as I always do, I will end this SIX year old letter with this: Your dad and I hope you always understand the why behind our no-s. We hope you feel safe in the boundaries we set. We hope you feel freedom in the wide open places we leave for you. We hope you see God in our actions and words. We hope when you leave our little home for good and go out on your own that you'll look back on this simple little life we had together-- chaos and mistakes and messes and all-- and see that it was Grace that held us together; that you see that it was God's daily bread that provided it all.

Happy sixth birthday, Becks Lynae! There is nothing you could ever do to make us stop loving you.