I want to bottle your joy and hold it close forever. You’re the friendliest kid I know, although a few weeks ago I did wish I was close enough to stop you from hugging the stranger who was smoking at the park. You’re a lover — of people, of animals, of whatever Benny and Cate are doing, and of life in general.
While we were in Guatemala in June, Grandmom took you to YaYa’s Island to play and you still talk about how it was really fun and you want to do it again. When I pick you up from school, you usually say, “I not go home yet!” and then ask, “I do it again?” Lately, when we’ve driven by the movie theater you say, “Movies really fun. I like it popcorn.”
I adore how you love life and make everything more fun.
You like to run up to Daddy when he gets home from work and say, “Tag!” and then run off so he will chase you. You’ve gotten to be a good hide-and-seek player. You swim like a fish and jump like a frog. You love the trampoline, watching “Paw Patrol” and anything with Mickey Mouse, and chewing gum.
You’ve been using new adjectives appropriately, which makes your word-lovin’ momma happy. Plus hearing you describe all the things you encounter as silly, cool, and beautiful is really sweet. You call the colors of a sunset a rainbow, which also sounds like hair bow. You use “cute” in place of “small.” And you think a declaration of liking something is reason enough to make more dessert, another piece of gum, or a drink of my Diet Dr Pepper permissible.
As cliche as it is, I can’t believe you’re three.
Your birth mom will forever be on the sweet surprises God gave me. Your life is a testament to God’s faithfulness. Your joy is balm to my soul that can too easily become jaded by this world. You, my girl, are exactly who our family didn’t know we needed.
You, my girl, are worth celebrating. In only three years, God has already used you. I have no doubt there is so much more joy, surprises, and adventures to come for you.
I love you,
Feel free to look back on Rachel’s little life: One month. Two months. Three months. Four months. Five months. Six months. Seven months. Eight months. Nine months. Ten months. Eleven months. One year. Fifteen months. Eighteen months. Two years. Of course, I share more of her story, which is part of my story, in my book, “Peace in the Process: How Adoption Built My Faith & My Family.”