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This time ten years ago, I was one wiped out and hurtin’ woman,
but I also remember the tremendous high of holding that little bundle with her
squished up face and pink and blue cap pulled down snug over her bald
head. I whispered to her in the dark
that night, after everyone else had left, and told her I would do my best, but
that no matter what else happened, I would always love her.
And I have. My best
is sometimes not really very good at all, but I mean well, and I do love her,
more every day though I always think my heart couldn’t possibly hold anymore
before bursting at the seams and completely disintegrating.
For ten years, I have watched this little soul grow from an
alert and curious newborn to a crazy toddler who had me questioning my own
sanity and the very idea of ever having another child to an inquisitive,
driven, joyful, over-the-top, insanely caring and generous girl. She is everything I have ever wanted to be.
I’ve thought about what I might write about her on her 10th
birthday for about a week, and most of it brought me to tears, not sad ones,
just the nostalgic and “so happy I could die” kind of tears. Everything that I might put into words either
seems far too personal, like it should only be between me and Harper Lee, or
far too inadequate. Mere words cannot
possibly capture what I have in my heart right now.
Let’s just say that I know beyond all shadow of a doubt that
God is in His heaven and loves me more than I deserve. What other possible explanation can there be?