Queen Kelley

As I’ve written elsewhere today, five years ago I was holding a chipmunk-cheeked, pointy-headed, chubby-limbed baby girl. It’s been a treat to watch her grow into a lovely little lady. Butterfly turned five years old at 8:37 this morning. Like all parents do from time to time, I stand in awe of her today, marveling that five years—some 1,825 days—have actually passed since the first moment I laid eyes on her. It’s humbling, overwhelming, and gratifying. The magnitude of responsibility I feel as her mother weighs heavily at times. What kind of teenager will she grow to be? Will she feel that she can talk to me about anything? Will she learn to make wise choices? Will she grow to treasure the mystery that is God? Will she treat other people and the earth with kindness and care? How greatly do I affect how she turns out in these areas? If I think on it too long, I get short of breath.

For now, I will save my dreams of the future for spare moments. Mostly, I’ll live hugely into the present. Butterfly is five years old! My artist who creates endless pieces that I can’t bear to throw away, no matter how high the paper pile grows. My dancer, not exactly graceful but robust with energy and delight as she twirls and leaps and stomps. My learner who asks endless questions about the world and people and life, who takes in information readily and shares it eagerly. My “reader” who can sit for long spans of time listening to the stories I tell her from picture books or from my own mind. My “writer” who draws a series of pictures and dictates tales to go along with them. My struggler who is working hard to put words to her emotions. My child of passionate emotions who bursts out with riotous laughter almost as easily as she dissolves into noisy tears.

Oh, how I love her. Happy birthday, my sweet girl!