Tribute to my first-born.

We were on vacation during my daughter's birthday, so I missed the chance to write her tribute post. Here it is a couple weeks late.

The minute in my sonogram when my husband heard the lab tech say those fateful words, "You're having a girl", his face turned an odd shade of green. I was thrilled. I don't have brothers, so the world of girl is not new to me. Dave, however, was obviously scared out of his mind because he is from the world of boy and knows the territory all too well. As you would expect, when she arrived we instantly fell in love with the bundle of noisy pink joy.

My daughter is an interesting girl. She put complete sentences together before the end of her first year. She has not stopped sharing her opinion since. She could read on the third grade level by kindergarten, and by the end of Kindergarten she started the Harry Potter series. (No I'm not exaggerating. Sometimes I wish I was.) She is a literary smarty pants, and continually is absorbed by several books at a time.

She is also highly dramatic. My friends and family should not be surprised by this... considering the gene pool.

My favorite memory of my girl was at her first ballet performance when she was six. Her little first-year ballet class was stars (literally)in the Nutcracker Suite. At the end of the performance during the bows, she kept dancing. She had no concept that the show was over or that the music had stopped. She was still performing in a world all her own with her own internal music, and she was the beautiful prima donna. When SHE decided her dance was done, she then gave the biggest most melodramatic bow to grace the stage in Abilene, Texas.

My daughter, much like one of her relations who may or may not be writing this post, has strong opinions about everything. Most of the time, she is not ashamed to share those opinions especially if those thoughts have anything to do with the appropriate and timely disciplining of her brothers. She loves her brothers. Sometimes I feel she can mother them better than I.

She is eight years old and a self-proclaimed missionary. She taught her little friend down the street how to pray, and she is currently saving her money to purchase that little girl a bible. How much I could learn from my sweet daughter! She has a bold faith that oftentimes keeps her up late at night. She worries about life and death. She experiences anxiety over family members who take no interest in Jesus. Her faith makes me see what I lack in mine.

I am so proud of my girl. My dreams for her are simple. I don't care if in life she is a rocket scientist or a rock star. I simply want her to maintain her real faith and devotion to the life-giver. I see in her the potential to reach so many for Jesus, simply because she is not afraid to share her faith or live it. The memory of her dancing to her own music in front of so many gawking onlookers gives me hope that she can maintain a faith in a world where she will undoubtedly be different; where she will undoubtedly hear a music that many will deny exists. I hope she dances for Him even when others do not.

Happy Birthday, Lil!