For Lucy

My girl, you're six!

      

Silly, sassy, sweet six.

You are my spring born babe, made of May flowers and showers, splashing puddles and sunny picnics, tree swings, and jumping ropes, and rainbows...

      

     

      

...and Bugs.

(With a capital B).

   

           

You've spent the majority of the past two months hunting, catching, watching, reading about and drawing insects. 

So it only made sense to celebrate the six-legged creatures as part of your sixth birthday. 

You had a few neighbors over to play cooties and eat worms and all of that nonsense.

Our very own Ugly Bug Ball:

That was fun.
So was your birthday dinner (shared with both sets of grandparents; presents and good food and love galore!).

 (I've got to find the instructions you wrote out for your "6" cake.  "Step 1...Step 2...Step 153..."  Good thing you've got a good grandma!)

     

        

You were thrilled about your new paints (you are truly a gifted artist, Lucy) and your roller skates, and your tea set, and your chipmunk...and your...and your....(you are truly spoiled, my dear).

And I was just truly thrilled about you.

(Birthday breakfast!  Six strips of toast and a perfectly pink package - thanks Lees and Karen!)

You've faced so many difficult transitions these past months.  I've spent more than a few moments worrying over you and praying over you and wondering about you:  What must you be thinking?  What must you be feeling?  

I've watched you watch your Daddy.  When you came home from your several day Easter stay at Grandma Packer's house, there were so many notable changes:  a hospital bed, a wheel chair, a different sleeping arrangement, a different routine.  Your first day home, you didn't linger in Dad's room, but soon you peeked in the door and passed in a fresh Kleenex.  "Give this to Dad," you told me.  A few days later I walked into Dad's room and found you standing at his bedside, gazing quietly at his sleeping face. 

After several Sundays in a row of attending Sacrament meeting with just me and Spud, I found you hidden in the bathroom before church creating this masterpiece for Dad's room.

All the photos were hand picked and lovingly arranged. 
Since then you've filled Dad's wall with your artwork...

...and have snuggled up on his once intimidating bed for repeated showings of The Princess and the Frog and Enchanted.  You've become the boldest champion of his successes ("Dad did really good with his words today!"  you told me once) and last night you told us you want to be a nurse when you grow up.

You'll be a fantastic one, Lucy.

If you can resist entomology.

For your birthday celebration at school, I got to come and read a story of of your choosing to the class.  You wore your "super-special heavy-duty red boots"...

 and brought your (occasionally bothersome) little brother...

And we read Flora's Very Windy Day.

 

The next morning, when your tired, post-birthday body was still in bed, I read in Ephesians, "For this cause I bow my knees unto the Father...that Christ may dwell in your [heart] by faith; that ye [may be] rooted and grounded in love."

I thought of you and your super-special heavy-duty boots. 

I thought of you and your awareness of Heavenly Father's love and mercy. 

You found a slug in plain sight on the morning of your birthday.  You thought it was probably a present from Heavenly Father.  Like last year's rainbow.  

Lucy, if you keep looking for His gifts, you will always find them.  Because they abound.  And like your  special red boots, His love will keep you rooted and grounded through the windy days to come.  

Love you my little princess/artist/nurse/entomologist!

Glad you had a happy sixth birthday.