Dear Lucy {year 3}

Dear Lucy,

I've done my best to really, truly heed the cliche, but well meaning, advice that comes tumbling down on top of you the moment you have your first child...

time flies
you will miss this
i wish i would have held them more
i wish i would have slowed down

When you were born, I decided to make a conscious, intentional decision to live that advice out with you.  Or at least try.  There's a reason why mothers all over the world, all across the span of time, say the same things about how quickly these early years slip by and how desperately they miss it.

So I've lived these past 3 years in this limbo of excitement for what's ahead of you, but refusing to let the wonder and magic, even the mundane and crazy, of the now pass me by.  And here we are at three.  And this birthday is strangely harder than your 2nd and even your 1st.  I just can't imagine any other Lucy than the one in front of me right now.  This toddler/girl creation.  Our conversations, your humor, your perception of things, your kindness, your thirst to know things, your unbelievable ability to forgive me over and over and over again...it all fills me immensely.

So Lucy, I've read some essays that talked about how we raise little girls to be focused on just their looks and that we teach them that is where their value is because we immediately want to tell girls how pretty/cute/beautiful they are.  I totally agreed.  No more 'you're cute' comments.  Besides, you have many amazing qualities, so it shouldn't be that hard.

I was shocked.  Trying to not tell you how beautiful you are, was like asking me to not use your name.  That sounds dramatic.  But the number of times a day I am stopped in my tracks because of a smile from you, a laughter heard, the clearness of your blue eyes, your crazy, whispy blond curls...you are beautiful.

Then I realized, the beauty that article is talking about is standard, of-this-world kind of beauty.  And that is not what I am talking about.

You are beautiful because I look at you and know you are part me and part your father.  You are beautiful because you carry traits from your great-grandfather.  You are beautiful because you break out in song all the time, the way I like to do.  You are beautiful because you are agile and confident in how your body moves, just like your father.  You are beautiful because when you don't know I can hear, you check on Lulah with such tenderness and love.  You are beautiful because when I have snapped and lost my patience and I tell you I'm sorry, you respond with a genuine, 'thank you, mama' and wrap your arms around my neck.  You are beautiful because you teach me that it really is that simple to forgive and love without conditions.  You are beautiful Lucy Pearl McDowell, because you are exactly who God made you to be.  And that, is the beauty that takes my breath away.

So what does that mean?  It means that as the years go by, we will talk.  And talk, and talk, and talk.  About what beauty is, about what beauty means, about where beauty comes from.  You are beautiful because you were created in the image of our Creator.  And our Creator is beautiful.  And that beauty is in every single person.  That's what I want you to grow up knowing.

I've long since been blown away and moved by the beauty of God's creation.  And you my dear, are no exception. 

A few days ago I asked you, 'if you could do anything you wanted on your birthday, what would it be?'  I braced myself for your response, knowing I could easily regret the question.

You answered, 'I want to plant something.  I want to garden.  Pink flowers!  I want to get flowers.'

So we're going to go pick out some pink flowers and then play in the dirt.

And celebrate you.

Happy Birthday Love.

Love,
Mama