To my daughter on her eleventh birthday

Dear Audyn,
Your birthday letter is a month late, but you and I both know I'm never on time for anything. If anyone bears with this flaw of mine, it's you. We celebrated your birthday on time, though, even though your birthday used to sneak up on me every year. I think you were six before I realized that while you and Kaleb have birthdays in different months, they are really only five days apart. Many years I was baking or wrapping past midnight, scrambling to get things ready.

Some might say this makes you the forgotten child.

You've told us that being the middle child can sometimes feel that way, and two of your aunties concur--the middle is tough. You also lived out your littlest years in a rocky patch of our family story. Daddy's cancer preceded you and Kaleb's birth followed, and somewhere in the middle of all that your little life found its beginning. What does that mean? I don't want to read into it too deeply, but I do think it impacted you. You are my sensitive one, and you are also my fighter in all the hardest and best ways. In the last few years, I have seen you mature into these seemingly opposite character traits, and I've learned that what makes you a fighter is also what makes you so sensitive. You feel deeply. So while I wish I could have cushioned you from some of the deep feels we've lived inside our four walls, I also know those things have made you compassionate and strong and fierce. So fierce. :)

You take your compassionate, feisty spirit into both your sibling relationships. With Emelyn, you will not be outdone. She is both a teacher and a competitor. But most of all, she is your friend. With Kaleb, you patiently walk alongside him, playing with him, helping him, and teaching him all kinds of things. I know he looks up to you with some mix of admiration and awe. He also delights in pestering you. So there's that.

This year for your persuasive writing piece, you wrote an essay about why all kids, regardless of ability, should be included at school. Brainstorming with you and hearing you read me your drafts was a delight. You wanted the words to be just right, because you know, somehow, that words have the potential to expand or shrink our imaginations. You sense they have the power to change minds when well-chosen. Did you know that essay is an act of advocacy? Did you know you have been advocating on your brother's behalf for his entire life? You keep a close eye on him and always have.

Really, you keep a close eye on all of us. Your emotional intuition runs deep and you have been known to quietly appear at my side when I am weary and rest your head on me. It's a simple gesture. One that says, "I see you." Sometimes that's all any of us want, really. To be seen where we are and loved, anyway. I think being your mom has helped me to work on that. You've taught me to look past what's on the surface of things into the heart of them. To ask, what's behind a choice or mood? To comprehend nonverbal cues with acuity. Thanks, girl.

So that's your heart-space in a nutshell. What about the rest of you? Well, you're a great athlete--a reliable soccer teammate, a fast runner, a strong swimmer, and a budding kayaker and skier. You're an excellent student who loves every subject and does well in all of them. Math, engineering, tinkering, and  music theory all seem to come easily to you. Writing and reading are favorites.

Your birthday list this year captures you well: You wanted a model train set, a chess set, a guitar pick punch, and a skiing weekend at Grammy and Papa's.  No one in our family plays chess! But you are teaching us, of course, learning from videos on your own, practicing online, and then explaining it on your chess board to me.

Recently, I confessed to you that I've never been very good at reading my Bible regularly. This is something you've always done with a certain consistency. So you invited me to join you at night before bed. You read and we summarize out loud together. You take notes in your journal. You've even made me memorize some Bible verses and laugh every time I botch the wording the same exact way every single night. It boggles your mind how long it takes me to memorize, but you stick with me, coming to find me each night before you begin, so we can do it together.

There's so much I want to say in this letter to you. So much. What I hold in my heart for you is bigger than all the words I have. But if I had to sum up the way you seem to live your one, precious and wild life, it would be this: You are an invitation. You see into people and invite them into your world in the ways that they need. Your name means "old friend." And you are that. A trustworthy, constant friend. To me. To Daddy. To Emelyn. To Kaleb. To know and love you is to be welcomed into friendship with you. Invited in, no matter what. Happy eleventh birthday to my smart and sassy, fierce and feisty, compassionate and kind girl. You are beautiful inside and out. I'm so thankful God invited me to be your mom.