my favorite girl

My favorite girl will be 22 years old this month. It seems like yesterday, and then again like a hundred years ago that she asked me to braid her hair, tie her bows and cut her sandwiches into triangles. 

The questions she used to ask had to do with what I thought the cat was thinking and what if the moon didn't come back tomorrow night or if I really liked Mrs. So-and-So's dress or was I just kidding? 

Her personality has been sunny, optimistic and full of wonder from day one. She rarely needed more than raised eye brows to set her on the path of righteousness. Or a pointed question about what "Sherry the Party Pooper" would do in the same situation she found herself to right the tilting planet of her attitude and actions. 

Her questions and our conversations are more weighty these days. No challenge can be easily solved with a cookie, a kiss and a nap like those used-to-be times. It appears I am not as powerful to vanquish all wrong, heal all hurts or tidy all messes like I used to be.

The launching of this child is one I am tip-toe-ing gently through, as one would a bed of violets. Mostly because I believe the calling on her life to be so unique. Because her destiny will be different, interesting and fulfilling. Because the family she will begin some day will be full of the joy overflowing from the abundance from her heart. Because, despite the outward appearance of fragility there lies a core of loyality, courage and strength that will confound those whose gaze is casual or who see only the surface of beauty. 

Violets are hardy. God is good and faithful. For 22 years I've been blessed as the mom of this baby girl. I am looking forward to all the years to come.

Happy birth month, Emily Joy, darling one.