I’ve been struggling with writing this week. Each time I prepare, I sit with my Iced coffee or water… and nothing.
Nothing comes out. Nothing. Hence the random post on quirkiness earlier this week.
Any guesses why? Well, basically, I have not the problem of nothing to say– but TOO MUCH to say.
There are so many milestones this week and they all have me introspective, grateful, weepy, and feeling slightly silly for all the emotions. Lucy finishes Preschool Friday. She turns 5 on Memorial Day, giving us a last-day-of-school/ 5th Birthday Celebration DOUBLE WHAMMY within 48 hours. OY with ALL the feelings.
I’ve literally tried to write a post “To her” or “about her” 7 or 8 times this week. And each time, nothing. Perhaps I’m trying to sum up every bit of joy and gladness she has brought us over the last five years. Actually, I know that’s it… each time I sit down to write, I find myself opening old folders with pictures from the day she was born, the day she first ate solids, first time she drank from a cup, her first halloween (she was a pumpkin and it swallowed her.) Etc. until I’m sitting there a weepy mess remembering each and every photographic detail of her life, musical montage style like I’m some crazy Steve Martin clone on the Father of the Bride movie.
Self- inflicted torture I tell you.
Pictures like this:
Alright I should really quit…
Hence the emotional exhaustion which normally would lead me with much to say. Instead all I want to do is go sit next to her and read books. Except that now she can read to me. (Stifled Sobs.)
Where on earth do all those days go that they snowball into FIVE short years? All those loads of little clothes. All those trips to Chick Fila. All those little people left scattered around. All those millions of hair bows. All those hugs given tightly and desperately.
Pictures really are worth a thousand words.. and then some. I look up at the first few shots and I can remember how tiny and snuggly she was in a fleece blanket sleeper. Every night for the first year of her life, I would hold her in my arms, feed her and then sing a few songs. Around 8 months old, she started gently clapping her little hands each time I would stop singing until I would begin again. I will always treasure those moments– and each night I held her until she fell asleep and I HAD to lay her down, not once did I worry that I was holding her too much or spoiling her. Others told me those days would fly right by. They were right.
These days are too.
I am so filled with gratefulness that God has entrusted her to us. She has been such a joy-bringer for us. A lesson-teacher– with her gentle spirit and kind words. A comedian with belly laughs and high-pitched squeals. From the very first– she has delighted us all.
We love you, Lucy Lu!