Mackenzie

In exactly 12 hours, this child will turn 11 years old:



It seems like just yesterday she was a baby. I can still remember the baby-scent of her head. I can still feel her arm around my back, playing with my long hair as she nursed at my breast. I can still remember the sunshine of her smile when her brother walked into the room. Eleven years have passed since she was delivered to our lives, but I remember each second of each year like it was a gift from God.

She is the child we planned for but is so much more than we could have designed. She is beautiful. And funny. And bright. She has crazy curly hair. She loves to read and garden. She likes science and hip-hop music. She loves to dance and cook. Her laugh makes angels weep. She is perceptive and caring; accepting and welcoming. She is shy. But once she knows you, look out. She can talk a blue streak.



She helps with domestic chores without needing prompting. She feeds the dog, dusts and cleans bathrooms.

She is hard for me to shake. I haven't rented rated R movies in years. She sits Right Next to Me on the couch and follows me from room to room, floor to floor, chatting all the while. She is me. Only shorter. ( Barely.) And younger. (Muchly.)



I am so blessed to have her in my life. I am honored that God included her in my existence and entrusted her to my care and peculiar style of parenting.

She makes me proud to be her mother every single day.