I’ve been feeling a little dried up in the inspiration department over the past few days. After trying out a few posts, none really felt right for the day. My three-year-old daughter, Ellie, was prancing around my desk this afternoon when I turned to her and said, “Ellie-girl, tell me. What should I write today?”
She said, “Write something to me with a picture. Tell me about how you love me.”
My children never get tired of hearing about how much I love them.
None of God’s children do. Each of the sixty-six books of the Bible is a part of one big love letter.
So, in the midst of my struggle to decide what the world needs to hear, I’ll share a little corner of mine. After all, in the search for what needs to be said, what can be greater than letting the people closest to you know they are loved?
I asked her if it would be all right if I let my friends see her letter. She agreed.
To My Dearest Ellie-boo,
You are “my child.” You have this special claim over me, one without words. A bond. I think it’s why you were born two weeks past your due date. You didn’t want to lose the connection. It’s in the way you cling to me above everyone else when you feel unsure. It’s seen in the way you want me to snuggle in your bed while you whisper nonsense secrets in my ear. The way you push harder against me than anyone else when you want to show you can do things all by yourself. Because you are trying to prove, even to yourself, that you can do it without me.
I love how every inch of you is feminine. My little butterfly-girl, I call you for the dainty way you flit through the house singing and dancing wherever you go. You’re so different from the tom-boy ways of my childhood.
I love your love of shoes. You even wear them to sleep.
I love the way your eyes light up at the mention of chocolate.
I love your touch, so different from your brothers. Sweet, nurturing, delicate.
I love how assertive you are, even though I sometimes have to remind you that you need to use your “kind voice.” You know what you want, and you won’t settle for less.
I love the glitter of mischief in your eyes when you know you’ve said something sassy.
I love the way you replay moments of your life in pretend play, so that I even get to be a part of moments I miss.
I love you like you love the corner of your favorite blankie.
I wish I could keep you forever, pressed close. But I know I only have you for a moment, a blink, and then you’ll be gone. Off to take on the world.
You are one fierce little woman. You’re the kind of woman I want to be when I grow up.
Go tell someone you love them.