Blythe Kathleen,
To be here, on this day you turn ten, feels like such a gift. There are moments as a parent that time feels like such a thief, here to just keep taking and taking until-- poof-- you're out of our home and we're left with only memories. But on days like today, when I sit and truly reflect on the TEN years we've gotten to have with you and parent you and just enjoy your presence, I realize that time is also such a generous giver. These past ten years have just been filled to the brim with so much joy because you have been in them.
Ten feels like a threshold. Once we walk through this door together, we're on a new journey of sorts. The next decade will look so different than the last one: teenage years, middle school, high school, driving, leaving home... so much is on the horizon. And yet, at age ten you're still a kid. A decidedly BIG kid with feet I can barely keep in shoes and teeth coming in at every odd angle and hands that feel roughly the size of my own when I hold them, but still a kid. In our current culture, kids are leaving their childhoods sooner and sooner, and your dad and I have countless conversations about how we want to preserve your childhood years for as long as possible. This isn't because we still look at you as a baby, or because we don't want to challenge you and push you, and it isn't even because we are scared of what comes next: it is simply because you only get to be a kid once, and there is so much good and valuable that happens in simplicity and free play.
This was a good year for you, but I haven't seen you face a year you didn't bring some fun and light to, so you've enjoyed them all. Last spring you got to go turkey hunting for the first time with Papa, and you didn't see any turkeys, otherwise you were convinced you would have been able to get one, no problem. I tell this little story because it highlights something we adore about you: your absolute confidence in yourself. You have the ability to simply be completely yourself, and be confident that you being yourself is exactly what the world needs. And you're right: it is. You're currently studying about the Revolutionary War at school and you've gone head-over-heels in reading whatever books you can get your hands on about the topic. Because of your new-found love for Rev War, Papa let you borrow one of his tri-corn hats. I walked down the road to get you off the bus the next day, and there you were, wearing the tri-corn hat, feather and all. You think it's awesome, so you're going to wear it. And because you do it with confidence, it IS awesome. You're unique in this and Brent and I talk about it and pray frequently that this is something you can carry with you for the rest of your life: don't let nay-sayers squash the brilliant confidence you bring into this world. It is such a gift.
To kick off the summer we had another awesome trip to Colorado, which I think is safe to say you now love as much as your dad and I do. It's been really fun to watch you grow in your endurance to do longer hikes and this time you even tried rock climbing. My favorite moment from the trip with you, though, was down by the horse barns [big surprise ;)]. There was one horse that was in a separate pin from the others, and we figured it must have been one that was being broken or at least learning the ropes in some capacity. Because of this, he was fairly skittish when we tried to get near him, unlike the other horses. But you were determined to pet him and make him feel at ease. I watched you, over the course of twenty to thirty minutes, so incredibly patiently, try to accomplish that. First you sat down near the fence but didn't look at him; you willed yourself to make no eye contact and just let him get used to your presence. Then you slowly stood, but still looked away. Next you turned towards him, but only did short bursts of eye contact, still giving him time and space to process you. Slowly, slowly, slowly you would take one step, then wait several minutes before taking another. Once you were next to the fence, you slowly, slowly, slowly raised your hand. Eventually you began moving your open palm towards him, but he trotted away. Thirty minutes, and you didn't accomplish your goal-- I was sure you'd be upset. Instead, you walked back over with a smile on your face, proud of how patient you'd been and pleased that he'd even let you get as close as he did. I've since seen you do the same with the cows in the pasture behind our house. It's an image of you I just love: you're so gentle and kind, patient and intentional.
Last fall we were able to take a once-in-a-lifetime trip to Hawaii to stay with a cousin of mine. You got to see and explore and try so many new things. You pushed yourself to the limit a few times: once while we hiked a pretty difficult stretch that involved spots that required us to hang onto ropes to make the next move. Later in the week you strapped on some snorkel gear. You were very hesitant at first, as was I. Stepping into the ocean can be a bit unnerving, knowing there is so much life just below the surface. But after several minutes you put your head in the water. You saw some small fish and eventually began to figure out how to float and kick around while snorkeling. I was really proud of you because I could tell it was not quite in your comfort zone, but you were still willing to try it. Then you saw a pretty large fish and decided you'd had enough! I can't say I blame you. You loved watching and playing in the waves, playing in the sand, hanging out with Laurie and Charles, hiking the mountains, eating shave ice, and watching monk seals.
Your current hobbies are, still, all over the map. I love this about you. You are creative and imaginative, so you love to create, whether that is with branches and sticks outside or with words in your notebook or with legos in the basement, you're always making something. We recently visited some friends and they had a board game you liked. When we returned home, I woke the next morning to find you in the living room surrounded with paper and scissors and crayons, recreating the entire game from memory. You drew all the characters, made a complicated decoder system, and even made three dice! When I commented you said, "Why spend money to buy it when I could just make it?!" You truly are astounding sometimes. You also really, really enjoy reading. We've had to implement a "no-reading-at-the-table" rule. I was recently reading a true-crime novel and one day you asked me something regarding the trial in the book and I realized you had picked it up and read the book jacket-- I am quickly learning nothing with words on it is safe around you and I may need to be more diligent about what I leave lying around! Ha! I felt like your birthday gifts were pretty bland this year and I worried you would feel let down: You took the simplest part of your gift-- a blue, one subject notebook on which I wrote "Blythe's Writing Notebook" -- and have carried it with you everywhere. When grandparents came over IT was the first present you showed them. I think it cost $2. I should have known I needn't be worried, because that is who you are, Blythe: you are the girl that is grateful for the simplest things.
You still really like playing piano, and have a real knack for picking up songs and figuring out how to play by ear, too. You fill our home with music, often. You also love riding your bike, even after a really nasty fall last year. We're hoping to do some longer trails together this year, and you've liked the freedom to ride a little further from home from time to time now. One thing you've started enjoying a lot, too, this year has been shooting baskets with your dad. In the evenings, after supper, I can often find you two out there chatting, shooting, and working on your form. You also got to attend overnight church camp for the first time, and you LOVED it and are excited to go back again. You've decided to forego organized softball this summer and try your hand at golf. You have big plans with your dad on the course for the summer, and it's another one of those confidence things for you when you just were like, "Eh. It's just a summer...I'll give golf a try and see what I like best!" Most kids don't have that kind of clarity and maturity to realize that hobbies don't have to be set in stone when you're just ten years old.
A couple months ago we were driving home from the river and somehow you and I ended up alone in the car. You were in the front seat, controlling the radio--one of your new favorite things to get to be able to do-- and I realized something and said, "Blythe, you get to do something I'll never do in this life: be a big sister!" And then I proceeded to tell you what a good one you are, because it's true. I always joke that I tried really hard to be a great mom to you, and then I just turned things over and you're now the cruise director! You come up with great activities and lessons for your siblings all the time, and you're generally willing to include them in whatever you're doing. But beyond entertainment, you're also a great role model. When Becks got baptized this year, you wrote her a note about what to expect, walking her through the process. Afterwards I found you two in your room and you were teaching her how you read your bible and showing her the ropes. Earlier this summer you and I were sitting on the porch reading the book of John, on our own in our own Bibles but side by side. At one point you asked where Isaiah was and I realized you were looking up a cross reference and I was so excited for you I could have burst-- learning to read the scripture and letting your heart be molded by it is such a beautiful thing. I love that you're taking more and more ownership of your faith-- it's a beautiful thing to witness as a parent because I know that the Spirit guiding you from the inside out will do far more for you in this life than me trying to guide you from the outside.
Over and over again Blythe we are floored by how you radiate joy and live up to your name in so many ways. Often when I think of the fact that we prayed joy over your life-- that you would be profoundly joyful and that you would bring profound joy to others-- I think of the verse in Ephesians 3 that says God will do MORE than we can think or imagine. In your abounding joy and your ability to bring it to others, God has, in fact, done more than we dreamed when we said those prayers ten years ago. There is a movie we watched several years ago (Inside Out) where the viewer goes inside the main character's brain. While there we visit different "islands" that make her tick, and one island is "goofball island." Ever since we watched that movie, your dad and I often refer to your "goofball island," because it is alive and well. The night before your birthday your dad told me, "I've got a lot of responsibilities as a dad to that girl, but a high priority for me is to protect goofball island." Don't ever let the silly and simple joy you find in everyday moments be squashed, Blythe. Your goofball island is one of our favorite places to visit!
Blythe, you continue to be such a gift for our family. I am sorry for all the times and all the ways I put pressure on you to "have your act together" since you're the first born. Your dad and I both hope you know that your mistakes are not seen as flaws, and our love for you is not based on how "good" or "perfect" you are. Getting to be in your presence as you make great choices and getting to be in your presence as you struggle to figure something out are all part of what makes being your parent so beautiful. Today, on your birthday, we rejoice in the last ten years we've been given with you. We celebrate all the life we have gotten to live with you, but we also lean into the future. I do not grieve you getting older, but thank God that I get to be here with you to witness you do it.
One of our favorite songs to jam to this year has been Ellie Holcomb's "Sweet Ever After." It says, "Got a lot of bad days still comin' our way, but a sweet ever after. Wind and waves breaking over our walls, but the ship, it don't shatter. The real life lesson 'bout a life well-lived is you lose what don't matter. But the sun's coming up on the stairway to Heaven in the sweet ever after." You've become more emotional this past year, and we discussed this just a few weeks ago, how becoming a teenage girl is going to present some emotional challenges, but we have to lead our hearts to Christ. It is as you turn ten, and we are peeking over the horizon at the teenage years, that I am ever more grateful this song is in your heart: I pray that no matter what you face you will always carry with you this beautiful hope of heaven-- you will have bad days, but the ship won't shatter. Losses can be embraced because we have a sweet ever after. May you hold this truth as you face the next decade of your life-- may you hold it, embody it, and celebrate it every day.
Blythe Kathleen, happy TENTH birthday! There is nothing you could ever do that could make us stop loving you.
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