To My Four Year Old Girl

Eva Margaret, you turned four yesterday. We celebrated your birthday last weekend and had record high temperatures - wonder if we'll look back at pictures of you barefoot in the sun, blowing bubbles and in the sandbox, and always remember that this was the year you turned four? We've always had snow and ice at the end of March...

I've always loved watching you grow older, and resisted accepting what your age means at the same time. You are definitely more school-age girl than exploring toddler, more social butterfly than content to watch the action from the side. You've grown so much this past year, your little body, mind and soul. You're proud of buttoning up your 5 and 6T shirts on your own; your long arms, legs and torso continually make people guess you are much older then you are. You're getting into skirts that twirl, glittery nail polish and lip gloss, and like wearing my shoes, purses, and coats around the house. You don't like getting your hair brushed or having help brushing your teeth; a very common phrase around the house these days is, "I can do it myself." And in so many ways, you can. Your abilities grow like leaps and bounds, sprouting up and blossoming before our eyes.

Your little mind is catching everything lately, wondrous and clever and insanely logical for a barely four year old! You spelled m-o-m the other night in bed, as part of your drifting off to sleep, powering down your mind, routine. You asked how to spell "dad" and sounded it out on your own, repeating it twice before asking me the next question - was God sad when Jesus died? You're innately spiritual, connecting the dots between relationship and love and suffering and God in so many ways, and you want to know "why," "how," and "where" God is. I love seeing your mind grasp new information, like what animals are born by eggs and which grow in the momma's tummy - or what ingredients you remember go into pancakes or what directions we take to arrive at our destination. You have an uncanny memory and sense of place.

But even more then your leaps in knowledge, I love seeing your heart and soul grow. I see you watch friends who are kind or selfish and then wrestle with what to do; I hear you ask why some people are mean or why the robbers who died by Jesus didn't raise from the dead again. I hear you suggest that you could give some of your quarters to the hungry woman we met on the street, or to help at church. I know your struggle with feeling left out or hurt in some social situations and that sometimes you get so angry and defensive that you just shut down for the day. I see you smile and make up with friends too, accepting an apology or getting over your own guilt at a mistake. I wonder about how we are doing at stewarding this emotional capacity of yours, this intense empathy and well of emotion you carry around.

You come and tell us when you've done something wrong; sometimes its with the promise, "it's not that bad mom, it will be okay" - you are a natural negotiator. Other times you run and hide, or bury your face in my shoulder, feeling bad or nervous about what you've done. This week after quiet time you matter-of-factly came to tell me that you had cut your doll's hair - which is when I saw you had also cut your own bangs. You did a remarkable job, actually, let me trim the edges to even it out, and were happy with your hair being out of your face. You look even older now, the new hair darker brown and framing your cheeky face, your big earnest eyes sharing space with your long and layered hair now. You're such a beautiful girl, inside and out, and your expressiveness, bubbling joy, and flapping arms make you all the more lovely to look at.                      

A few weeks ago you made me "cards" of folded up paper and "read" the insides to me. My favorite one said, according to you, "Thanks for loving me mom, for giving me treats sometimes and not other times, and thanks that you and dad call me love bug." You wanted a birthday theme of butterflies and bugs, which I thought was perfectly girly and adventurous all in one, and you loved having bugs and raspberries on your chocolate birthday cake. We found an orange shirt at the thrift store that says "love bug" on it and its your current favorite. You tell me that you love me to the moon and back, all the way to Jesus holding the world in His hands and back, and to Canada and to the bottom of the ocean where the squid live really deep. How did you become so loving, so smart, and so funny so quickly?  

You teach me about being human each day, Eva M. You remind me to delight and see the world with wonder, to hug and hold and snuggle, to answer thoughtfully and to prepare things ahead of time, to have patience and to not raise my voice and to live out the words in my actions that I am trying to teach you. You remember everything we do or say, you mirror us at our best and sometimes worst, and you love your friends, your teachers, your godparents, your family - you love with deep and easy abandon. You try to tell jokes, try to add up things logically, and always want to see more friends and more people at the end of each day. You dance and sing by yourself and with us, turning the kitchen and your bedroom into miraculous performances, making up stories and relationship and drama each day. You like driving fast, having your window down in the car, and listening to your favorite "car music." You're in love with gardening, most animals, learning about how your body works, legos, trains, dressing your dolls, puzzles, crafts, and biking. You will jump off any surface possible, run laps and race to every new activity, and refuse to enter a dark room by yourself (I get it.) You also ask when we are coming back if dad or I leave home, and ask to be reassured sometimes that we will be there again the next morning.

Tonight at bedtime, you went through your normal rituals, "Good night mom, love you, sleep tight." Then you added, "Mom, I will never leave you, ok? See you in the morning."

Sometimes I love you so much that I ache little girl. I am so grateful and feel lucky that I get to be your mom; it's the best job in the world. I can't wait to see what the next year brings for your developing and beautiful little life. Happy fourth birthday my little love bug.