A Letter to Little A

Darling Girl,
I imagine that someday you will stumble across this blog. Someday you'll figure out it's one of the most visited websites in my favorites bar, and you'll wonder what it was about. And you might think, at first glance, that all these thoughts and words are about your brothers, and that your life--little documented here--is not the beam of precious hope and love that it is.

That is why I write you this letter.

This picture was taken as the nurse was handing you to me.

You, my darling, were born two and a half years ago, in a horrible November blizzard. I had two weeks left of school for that semester; all reading, writing, and grading papers. And then, suddenly, I had you. I had you to hold, to nurture, to love, and to change everything in an instant. You were placed on my chest, frowning the biggest frown I'd ever seen, and screaming. But I spoke to you in my own grandfather's most precious words, saying, "Oh! Honeybunches, I love you!" And you didn't cry anymore. The love I felt for you then is not any less now. And that love is overwhelming. The love I felt for you then and feel for you now is the reason you have siblings at all. The Lord has shown this love to me, to us.

You and I on campus

Yes, I had responsibilities other than you, but the Lord put into my heart a courage like I'd never felt before. I wasn't afraid to take you with me everywhere, especially to work and school. I didn't balk at the attitude I encountered in the secular world. You were the witness, darling. And I am so proud of you. Because of you, our Lord blessed us with the kindness and love of strangers, especially my students, who never made fun of me for teaching their class while my pregnant belly was too big to lift the projector. One student insisted that I have a more comfortable chair at the front of the room. There was so much love for you, from people who never knew you.

Still, the love you feel is not meant to be hoarded, darling girl. You must know that your brothers are miracles. And my love for them is equal to my love for you. But you see, it is because you were my first miracle that they could be miracles, too. So, even though I mostly write of them here, it is not because you are less to me than they. No, rather, I can only appreciate them as I do because they are a part of a heritage of God's love for our family, which manifested in multitudes first when you came to us.

You've heard that with great power comes great responsibility. It is so also with love. With great love comes great responsibility. And so, darling girl, you have a great task in this life. And it is to love your brothers--the one in Heaven, and the one in my belly--and to protect them. It is to love any siblings you may have, which includes those yet unborn and unconceived. It is to be that beam of hope and love that you proved yourself to be when you first came into this world. It is to never lose sight that you--and all those you encounter--are His children first, and thus you and they are worthy of love.

At two and a half, you have already shown this love to me, and that is how I know you're up to the task. God gave you the heart for it. When your first little brother died, you were that image of Jesus that I could hold in my arms. You learned, right at that time, to say "I love you" to me, and you let me cry when I rocked you to sleep. You understood when I couldn't sing to you, like I normally do, and you didn't protest. You were pure love at the time I needed it most, and that, my darling girl, is something I will never forget.

And since this little one in my womb has been known to you, you have not displayed a hint of jealousy. You have said things like, "I'll be nice to the baby," and "I will give him kisses!" You have seen him having the hiccups on the ultrasound screen and you have heard his heart beating. You know, innately, that he is a real person, and all along you sensed he would be a boy. In love and truth you have recognized him already. What a gift the Lord has blessed us with--your own sisterly demeanor. I trust that, normal toddler behavior notwithstanding, you will be no different once he is here. And part of your own loveliness will be in recognizing that he was the answer to a very specific prayer of ours. You must know how much I love you for that!

Your baby feet at a couple weeks old.

But, darling girl, know also that I love you for your own sake. I do. I love your fierce independence, your gentleness, your precocious way of speaking. I love when I catch you singing, and when you insist upon a blessing before going to sleep. I love that you know who Jesus is, and that he carried a cross and fell down "because dat's soooooo heby (heavy)!." I love that you are going to be your own person, and your path will be unlike any person's in the world. You are irreplaceable, unrepeatable, and so so loved.

You and I at the top of Mount Sacajawea. You were 7 months old.

The world will tell you that you are not loved. That you were not made for God's kind of love. It will tell you love is something that it isn't. Don't let them tell you this lie. You know that statue of the "blessed mudder (mother)" outside our church? The one in which she is crushing the head of Satan, the serpent? You already have that response down: "no, no, Satan!" Don't let the world take that away from you. You know your task is love, and you know you are loved. Remain in Love, and He will remain in you, my darling girl.