Birthday Princess

August 11th is a pretty big deal around here.

I cuddled up with my girl this morning and told her about that night five years ago when we raced to the hospital to meet her. I told her about how soft her hair was and how drop-down perfect she was. Is. I told her all of it again, but it's a lot. One day she'll start to grasp the deep ocean love of that day.

But today?

Today, we partied just like we always do.

Boxed cupcakes, a few failed attempts at extra-special fun, a few stellar Plan Bs.

We even busted out the mini cans of generic cream soda like it was 1999.

Part of me wants to bundle this precious girl up like a way-back-when Chinese foot. I want to keep her compact and small, close, delicate, in need of me.

But the bigger part, the part of me who believes that her story was made extraordinary and stunning and bright and strong wants to just watch her keep growing into exactly the girl (and then the lady) she was always meant to be.

I love her story and being a part of it is a gift beyond what I deserve, but what I really look forward to is listening as she begins to tell it from her own perfect lips.

Happy birthday, 5-year old.

You stun me with your generosity.

You humble me with the depth of your heart.

You inspire me with your servant's heart.