Nan is SEVEN!

 

Nan Louise,

I never really know where to begin these letters because I am always a little bit shocked that it is time to write one again. Didn’t I just finish your six-year-old letter? Your three-year-old letter? Didn’t they just lay you, fresh and wet and warm, on my chest? But no. Today marks seven years since that important moment, so I sit here with a new page open wondering how to capture you—our silly, helpful, wild Nanny Lou—into words on a page.

I am currently comfy in a hammock, the sweet April breeze making the sunshine feel just perfect. And I am thinking about what you will one day do with all these letters. When will you read them? What will they mean to you? Who will you be when you fold back their pages and unlock the key to who you were at this very specific moment in time? I know you’re going to grow into a uniquely beautiful young woman, and what you have to offer this world is going to be so fun to see unfold. But right now your dad and I have often said that we just want to bottle you up and keep your spunk and spirit and joy and light of who you are right now. In short: who you are at age 7, Nan, is nothing short of an absolute delight.

You’re currently finishing up first grade, and you have loved this year. You’ve grown as a reader, and now you are so excited to start to read your very own chapter books. You’ve also grown as a friend. When I asked you at the beginning of the year who your friends were, you listed 14 people as your “very best friends,” and then you said… “oh yeah! And me too! I am my own friend, too!” While I don’t get to watch you in the classroom or at recess, I know you make the most of every moment. I recently asked about one of your “best friends” and your response was very telling of how you view those in your life: “Mom. She’s just perfect.” You love people hard and your teacher frequently tells me how much fun she has had having you in her class (I used to be her teacher, and she was pretty fun too! So you’re a great match!)

You, Nan, are the best helper a mom could ask for. If I say there is a job that needs done, I can always count on your to be the first one to jump on it and stick with it. Whether it’s picking up sticks in the yard, folding clothes, or cleaning a bathroom, you are eager to help. You also notice when someone needs something without prompting, which is a beautiful gift God has given you. Just the other evening your dad laid down on the floor to close his eyes a bit after supper. Without anyone saying anything, you found a sweatshirt in the room and brought it over, folded it up, and put it under his head for a pillow. Later that same evening when we walked in the house, the sun was shining just right into the kitchen and revealing a lot of spring-time footprints. You quickly ran and got a rag, wet it down, and began wiping them all away. One night I fell asleep laying in your bed with you and you noticed I had goosebumps and took it upon yourself to cover me up. This isn’t typical, Nan. Not for a 7 year-old and not for a 47-year-old. It is a true gift and allows you to love people in ways that others never see. Thank you for not being afraid of hard work, for always being willing to lend a hand, and for noticing when others need care. 

You sometimes get nervous, or anxious, about things. I wish I could take it away for you, but you are learning how to navigate it well. I’m grateful you always share how you feel, and if you don’t feel comfortable doing something you let me know. I know that takes a lot of courage to communicate sometimes, and I’m proud of you. People who don’t get nervous about things don’t get the opportunity to be courageous as often, and it has been a joy to watch you get to be brave time and time again. Just last week you did something that had been causing you some stress—you came and told us you wanted to try to ride your bike. So your dad jumped right in and on lesson/day TWO you were riding up and down our street as fearless as could be. You may have been a little scared to try, but once you made up your mind you were so brave and quick to learn and quick to say, “Let go!” I know that is how you will face many things in your life—you may face them at your own pace, but once you’re ready you will be ALL IN. Swimming was the same way last summer. One day you decided you could go off the diving board and you never looked back. I know a lot of things make you nervous, but getting to watch you be brave it a true joy as your parent.

Your brother cannot wait, every.single.day, for you to get home from school because he knows, without a doubt, that you’ll play with him. Even if you don’t feel like. Even if you’re tired. Even if there is something else you’d rather do. You always will make time to play cars or build a ramp or play puppies with him, and he adores you for it. You are a wonderful sister. I actually have to have conversations with you frequently because you give things up too easily just to make your siblings happy. If you get a special treat at school, you will wait until you get home so you can divide it evenly and share it. If you’re picking something out at a store, you may choose one of your sister’s favorite colors so you can share it with her. I have to remind you that sometimes, it’s okay to eat your own treat or pick something you like. But just like seeing needs and being a helper to meet them, thinking of others and caring about them comes so naturally to you.

You love animals. I don’t know many seven year olds that don’t (I sure didn’t as a seven-year-old though ;) ), but you take any opportunity to be with a neighbor’s dog or cat. We recently helped out some neighbors while they were gone in caring for their golden retrievers. You jumped right in with them, crawling through their tunnel, throwing them balls, scratching their ears. I couldn’t help but smile as your golden hair blew in the breeze, exactly matching their coats. You’ve begged and begged for a pet of your own, but know that a puppy will probably never be in the cards (again) for you because of me. You’ve enjoyed your little betta fish you got for Christmas, but still wanted something more. It was so fun to surprise you with picking out a kitten for your birthday. This is a huge act of love from your non-cat-loving parents, but seeing how you care for others, we know you’ll be the best cat owner. Plus, it’s fun to blow our kids’ minds from time to time, and you were so surprised you didn’t say a word for awhile! Finally, after most of the day was gone, you said, "I THINK I AM JUST IN A DREAM! This can't be real life that I am going to have a cat!" 

Nan, you have always kept us on our toes. Whether it’s laughing about something you’ve said, watching a dance burst out of you, hearing you laugh, or, like recently, CUTTING YOUR FINGER WITH A MASSIVE KNIFE WHILE CUTTING A PIECE OF BREAD (!!!!), it’s never a dull moment while you’re around. You still say the funniest things, like when you sneezed while reading and said, "I just Bless You-d all over this book!" Or when my friend came over to show us her new puppy, and you determined we should go in the back yard because "it's more playful and stickish back there!" You say things like "I'm snuffy" or "My stummy is hungry." And once you were sitting on PopPop's lap and looked at him and said, "You have a lot of wrinkles... are you going to die soon?" He told you he had at least a few more years, then asked if you'd be sad. You said, "No. I'll still have Nini.... and pictures of you." You still wear your emotions one-hundred-percent on your sleeve (it doesn’t feel like a movie night if you don’t have tears streaming down your face at some point). You truly have the biggest heart and you’re such an important part of our family. I really thought we would be a family of four, and then your dad was insistent that we have more children. I am so grateful he led the way in that, because I cannot imagine our house without your redhead in it.

You still don’t have the teeth that you had to get pulled at age three, you weigh a little bit of nothing, your energy-tank is always full, and you are a friend to all. We're currently reading a book called "Astrid the Unstoppable" and she is referred to as "the little thunderbolt" and it often talks about her red curly hair as her "lion's mane"-- I am picturing you every time we read about her adventures, my little thunderbolt. God knew exactly who our number three child would be, and I am so glad it was you. We pray you look to Christ all your days, and shine his light brightly in this world.

And like I have ended every birthday letter: We hope you 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 in our 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.

 Nan Louise, happy SEVENTH birthday! There is nothing you could ever do that could make us stop loving you.