First Princess

It was Sunday night.

Sixteen years ago, this very evening.

As usual, I was up too late and should have been in bed sooner.  It was after midnight when Veda came to the playroom to tell me it was "time to go."

And with that, we were on our way to Northside Hospital, in a royal blue 1992 Saturn SL2.  (Historical fact that may amuse you one day.)

Approximately eighteen hours later ... we became a family of three.

And my heart was mush.

Your entrance wasn't without a challenge.  Lots of trips walking up and down the halls.  A rough patch or two for Mom midday, but an epidural put a stop to all that.  Then things slowed down.  I went to get a bite to eat.  Mom napped.

Then you got a little twisted around playing jump rope with your umbilical cord.  Things went into turbo mode.  They put an oxygen mask on Mom.  A doctor calmly told us amidst the flurry of activity that we couldn't wait any longer ... it was time.  It was around 6:35 p.m. if I remember correctly ... it did get a little blurry there.  But you arrived with much pomp and circumstance.  Ten fingers, ten toes.  Pink face, a little upset.  Some hair on your head.  Maybe even a bit of a scowl.

Nothing like the smile you have today.

Sixteen years can travel by pretty fast.  Everyone always told us never to wish away the childhood days.  But some were tough.

Like the days you were learning to ride a bike.

You cried and cried ... so afraid to keep pedaling.  You kept wanting to put your feet down so you wouldn't fall.  But you did finally fall, and pretty big.  And you pulled off the helmet and went inside, determined you were not going to EVER ride a bike.

I went inside and calmed you down, but wasn't going to let you quit that easily.  Because I knew you had it in you.  The mechanics were all there ... you just had to see it through long enough to move forward.  (Sounds like some of our efforts even as a teenager!)  Tears and more tears.

But you finally went back outside.  And after a couple of attempts, there you went down the street, squealing, "I'm doing it!  I'm doing it!"  I think you would have pedaled all the way to the corner and out of sight if I let you.

More tears.  But this time, they were mine.

You know more of the stories.  The time you accidentally grabbed the volume on the stereo and turned it up full blast.  It was like you were being electrocuted ... you couldn't let go!  Mom got you into the living room at the front of the house, and you kept sobbing, "It got me, Momma!  It got me!"

And of course, the time you kept calling Mom to come to the top of the stairs, even though she was making dinner.   When she finally came to the bottom step to let you know she couldn't while she was cooking, you pointed firmly to the ground and declared, "Come!  Here!  Right!  Now!" ... one of the best Veda impersonations I've ever seen.

There are so many "times" that have made us laugh, made us cry, or made us proud.

The time when I silently doubled-back after driving out of the subdivision only to see you in my rearview mirror saying, "Forget something?"  (Yes, Miss Smarty Pants ... my wallet.)

The time when I first heard "Butterfly Kisses" on the radio while driving down the interstate (again, you were strapped in the booster seat in the back), and Veda asked me if we needed to pull over and let her drive.

The time when you actually laid hands on my shoulders and prayed for me, when you were probably only about five.

The time in kindergarten when you turned down a marriage proposal on the playground of the private school you went to, because you were "going to marry a Christian boy."

The time when you gleefully shouted that, if we adopted a baby from China, that she could teach you Chinese.

And there are so many "times" ahead.  I've been open and honest with you through the years, that there would be times when you didn't like me very much.  Fortunately, those times have been few and short-lived.  Mom and I have been so blessed to have you for a daughter, and we have said over and over that God "found favor" to give you to us.

You've been tagged by some of your friends as the "Momma" of the group.  And that's OK.  Many if not all Mommas will tell you it's not the most glamorous position to hold.  But it's one of the most honorable roles you will ever hold!  You will be relied on for advice, for stability, for help, and for keeping folks out of trouble.  Don't ever regret being looked on with that level of responsibility for your friends.

And there will be a time ... one day ... when we have to let go.  A day when we put our faith in who you are and the foundation on which you make your decisions as you forge ahead into adulthood.  You won't be perfect.  (Neither are we, and we're just a little older than you!)  But it is our prayer, as we celebrate your sixteenth birthday, that you always seek out what God has in store for you, that you never let go of your faith in Him, that you love and respect others around you, even those who are unlovely and sometimes undeserving, and that you smile whenever you can.

Because THAT'S my girl.  Always bringing a smile to those around her.

Happy birthday, Leah B!  I will love you ... always and forever, my first princess.

Daddy