First of all, let me apologize for being late on your birthday letter. Do you remember you had a birthday? Your party was supposed to be about 3 weeks ago; but right about the time it was supposed to start there was an inch of water in our basement, and it was rising.
But that’s the thing about you, little girl – you didn’t care. You had just one of your friends show up to your party and that was by accident. You didn’t cry; you didn’t complain; you found the good in your 3-year-old way and had an awesome time making Strawberry Shortcake cutouts.
This is the way it’s been for much of your life, sweetie. You were born when your older brother had a bald head because of his chemotherapy. Your first year of life was spent being shuttled back and forth to the hospital, a passive observer to his treatments. And during all that time, just like with the flood, your beautiful disposition and heart-stopping smiles have served to remind us time and time again: everything’s going to be okay.
Andi, you are learning so many things right now. You’re learning to use your manners. You’re learning your letters. And you’re learning new verses from the Bible every week.
I’m so proud right now that you are learning right now the right kind of voice and attitude to have with me and Mommy and other people. You are learning how to share with others and to treat them with respect, too. And you are learning, in small ways, how to direct your passion for things that matter.
This, Andi, is what I pray often for you about. That since you are such a high-spirited and exciting little girl, that over time God would redeem your strength for His glory. That you would learn there is no better place to direct your passion than in pursuit of Jesus, and you will find in Him a great, great joy the likes of which you haven’t yet known.
I’m thankful every single day for the privilege of being your daddy. Thank you for being you.
P.S. I know you’re joking, but please don’t start calling me “Dad” quite yet. You’re breaking my heart, little girl.