Monday

My Peanut

Whitney,

My Gracie. I can't believe you're already 8yrs old.

Just yesterday you were crying (you did that alot) because you wanted to be held. I hadn't yet discovered the joys of a sling, then. So we sat on the couch. A lot. Because you just wanted to be held.

You still love to be held. You love to cuddle. Your "my" girl. You look like me. You act like me. You have my passion (and had it the day you were born). You also have my spirit...and the good...and bad that comes with it. You know how to bat those eyes and melt your Daddy's heart. He says you get that from me, too. You're also so sweet. Everyone always called you, "Sweet Whitney". Daddy called you his "Swiss Miss".

I think you have more nick-names than any of our children. My favorite? "Whitness" (with an "h" in there, of course). It speaks of your nature, in the best way a mama could hope for. You find such joy in telling others about Jesus. You're living your name. And who said the words we speak didn't have power?

Your Daddy & I both know you guys have been through so much more in your tiny lives than many kids will ever face in a lifetime. You're our "Ohio" baby. But you jumped out of your crib when you were 8 months...and we were living in Kansas. It was in Tulsa, OK. that you pushed open your window and covered our front yard with wipes...while you flashed the neighborhood...in only a diaper...in 32 degree weather. It's a wonder the neighbors never said anything! We were BACK in Ohio when you had your "dream" come true and Coco came into our lives. It was in Michigan when you lost your first tooth, and began to share Jesus with others.

I love you, Whitney. Someday, you'll understand how much...when you hold your first baby.

You have found Jesus. I pray that you never let Him go. Cling to Him in everything you do. You can't ever go wrong looking to Jesus.

I love your sweet smile, Whitney.

I love how you come into my room every morning before I get up and say, "Cuddle?" just before crawling into bed with me.

I love how you perk up at the sound of music...and start dancing around the house. My little ballerina.

I love how your best friend...is your little brother.

I love that you get to grow up with your sister. I love watching the two of you together. Making your "Sisters" scrapbook, planning a snow fort, or talking about growing up.

I cherish these moments because I know they won't last forever. Someday you'll grow up. Someday you'll get your own house and have that Alaskan Huskey. Someday, you won't come into my room and say, "Cuddle?".

Until then, come "cuddle" anytime. I'm right here. I'm waiting.

Happy Birthday, Whitney.

I love you. And I always will. No matter what.

-Mommy

3 comments:

Gary Thompson said...

Stop. I'm going to cry.

Anonymous said...

Happy Late Birthday Whitney!!

Miss Amy L.

: )

Amy said...

Thank you, Amy. She was THRILLED to have someone leave a comment for her.

Amy

 
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