Growing up

Last night at the pool, you spotted a little girl in the deep end who looked roughly your age. You walked over, excitedly, introduced yourself, and you two began playing in earnest. At least, I assumed you introduced yourself. I wasn't there. I was in the shallow end, watching this change in you - this venturing into the world by yourself - unable to hear your words but watching your body language with anticipation. I saw you two clasp hands and jump into the deep end. Your laugh echoed as you came up for air and swam to the ladder. We have worked on this all summer - the diving and deep end adventures without fear. There have been tears and prayers and stomping feet but now, here you were, jumping with all the joy that summer in childhood brings. You were carefree and brave, not once looking around to make sure I was close.

Several months ago, you hosted your first sleepover. One of your oldest friends - as old as they can be when you are only six - showing up with her sleeping bag in hand and dreams of the night as large as your own. There were crafts and snacks and two pairs of feet running from your bedroom to the basement over and over, only pausing long enough to ask where something was before you continued on your way. I sat downstairs after your sister and brother had gone to bed - and long after you should have gone to bed - listening to the two of you in your room. Quiet voices interrupted by belly laughs every few minutes - the kind that cause tears to roll down your faces and your whole body to bend over with each new spurt of laughter. I longed to hear what you were saying. To know what tickled your heart so. To be a part of it. But I knew, too, that this is what you needed. Time to be a little girl with your own friends. To navigate relationships and independence and start to build this beautiful life that lies ahead for you.

This is what your daddy and I are working for every day - that you would grow up to be strong and brave, a lover of life and Jesus, ready to set out into the world when it is your time. We talk about the years being short and the 18 summers we are allotted and so often it feels like that focus is on us soaking up as much of you as possible. Smelling your baby head, memorizing your toddler turns of phrase, relishing in your pre-k imagination. But really these 18 years are less about us soaking you up and more about us pouring into you. These years are our time to help shape you and guide you, install in you the values and traditions and love we hope you carry with you for the rest of your life.

So when we see you jump into the deep end, our hearts soar with pride. When we hear you laugh unabashedly with your bestest of friends, our hearts are full with your happiness. But I stand in the shallow end and my arms feel empty without you in them, the one I have held first and for six summers. And I sit in the den and realize this is one of the first times I haven't been in on the joke with you, the one who it feels like I have shared every secret and laugh and detail of life with up until now.

And I know this is how it is supposed to be. I know deep down this means on some level we are getting things right. We are making mistakes daily and constantly seeking more guidance and praying for discernment, but somewhere something is going right. So we watch you grow with pride and excitement. And we feel each step you take away from us with nostalgia and longing. And we love you, baby girl, each step of the way.

Train up a child in the way he should go; and when he is old, he will not depart from it. - Proverbs 22:6

Thanks to Carrie Gantt photography for the beautiful pictures!