You turned four this week. Already, you are an expert on what it means to be four. "Four year olds don't take naps," with your Serious Face, your Serious Voice, and hands on hips. Except today you so desperately needed a nap. But that four-year-old sense of independence exerted itself and you sobbingly tried to convince me that you should stay awake. This is so you. A strong spirit. Sometimes to the point of foolishness. Much like your mother. I look forward to knowing you when you're a woman. I think we will get along so well, at least when we are not each striving for our own way! God will work with you on that, though...trust me...
You know what else is you, though? Sweetness. Thoughtfulness. Bringing things that your little brothers need, sometimes without me asking. Complimenting me on my cooking, my hair, the decorations for your birthday party: "I love the way you did that!" "That was so much work!" You speak so clearly for your age. People are usually astonished that you're so young (perhaps also because you are tall!). And you most often use your voice to make the most marvelous observations and ask the most thought-provoking questions (see below!).
You speak clearly, and if there is one thing I have learned about being your momma, it's that I must listen, and usually with you in my arms. You are beautiful when you feel heard. Smiles and giggles and obedience. This, too, reminds me of me. And I know what it means deep in my spirit when I feel acknowledged, validated, heard. Even if I'm wrong. At four years old, believe it or not, sometimes you're wrong. Sometimes you must obey (okay, always) even when you don't agree. But when I listen to your concerns, and explain, you so often see and understand, and conform. Please, precious daughter, remind me of this when you are thirteen and always.
One of your favorite things right now is to read together. You read to me, and I reward you with a marshmallow for each new page. Two marshmallows at the end of a book you have already read before. Motivated by your sweet tooth...I don't know where you get that. I can tell, though, that you are also motivated by pleasure in your accomplishment. I hope you always are. I've read that girls often don't persist when they feel a task is too hard, so I try to be mindful of telling you to "Stick with it!" And you are always even happier than I am when you do stick with it!
You're developing your own sense of style, most often flaunting it as Purple Girl. You enjoy dancing, or shall I call it "creative movement". You've learned from Fancy Nancy how to plie and arabesque (sort of). You get so distracted at dinnertime that it's all we can do to have you reasonably finish your meal. All you want to do is chatter, and move, and be so happy. Maybe you are just excited because this is usually the first chance to really talk with Daddy after he gets home from work. Maybe, though, it's just that you are the silliest girl in the entire world, with a great sense of humor and occasional derision for the rules of civility. (Why not try to eat with your head hanging upside down off your chair? What could possibly go wrong? And who says you can't suddenly hate cheese sauce for dinner even though cheese is your primary food group for lunch?)
Princesses, playing "renst-raunt" by cooking us food in your play kitchen, beading necklaces, playing superheroes with your brother, blanket tied tight around your little shoulders as a cape - these are a few of your favorite things. And, blessing my heart so much, in the last few days you have been asking SO many questions about the gospel. Perhaps this is what has most motivated me to write this down. I want you to know that in your wee years, you are curious about the Lord and Savior whose seal is upon you.
You ask how He died, what happened on the cross, how He got into the grave, and how He got back out. Did God die on the cross? How did the Father turn His face away? And today, after a hitting incident with your brother, you asked if Jesus has to die on the cross again. How, my dear heart, are you asking questions addressed by Paul in his most theologically exhaustive epistle? Then I asked if you believe Jesus died for YOU, and you said no. Probing further, I learned that you did not want to believe it because it was such evil men (bad bullies!) who killed Jesus. Then we talked about Joseph telling his brothers, "You tried to do an evil thing, but God used it for great good!" And how the most evil thing was done to Jesus, but God used it for the very greatest good ever so that we can be His children! My sweet, treasured daughter, tears come to my eyes again recalling our conversations last night and today. I want to give you all the answers so that you can know Him to whom you belong. I hope that when I stumblingly tell you mysterious things that even the greatest scholars express with difficulty, it causes you to ponder, and wonder, and worship.
How I pray for you, in your tender years! That you will cling to Christ even now so that His strong arms feel like home when the years are not so tender. My heart burns for you to know Him, such that if I could carve out a piece of my belief, physically, and plant it in your heart, I would do so. You bear close and frequent witness to my need for Jesus. I pray, pray, pray that I adequately point you to Him in my shortcoming. That we go to the throne together often enough, gently enough, confidently enough.
My little budding ballerina. You have danced your way into my heart these last four years. Know that you will always have a home here with me, come what may. I will do my best always to demonstrate the love of Christ to you; that whatever sin may ever separate us, all you need do is turn your eyes back toward your momma and I will know, and love you back to me, as He has done for me these many years. And God, because of Jesus, will welcome you back even more easily and joyfully than I because your sins are at the bottom of the ocean!
You are lovely. You are a gift. You are awake upstairs and weeping...time to put hands and feet to my words here, sweet one.
"He the barren woman takes, and a joyful mother makes. In her home is great reward. Alleluia, praise the Lord!" Psalm 113:9 (Your Psalm, the one you ask us to sing almost nightly at bedtime. Your namesake, as we marveled at the Lord our God and His gift of children into our quiver! What grace!)
With hugs, butterfly kisses, and the greatest earthly love imaginable,
Momma
Mikayla Grace
ballerina, fashionista, amateur theologian
4 going on 14 years old
34.8 pounds
41.5 inches tall
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