24 years ago

I’m beginning to write this post at 9:30 a.m., relaxed and comfy in my office chair. A far cry from 24 years ago at this time, when my body was trying to expel 10 pounds, 11 ounces of baby.
At home without drugs, which I am apt to remember every time this child needs any sort of reminding of HOW I SUFFERED TO BRING HER INTO THIS WORLD.
Two hours later the task was accomplished and we welcomed the little girl who came along as an unexpected surprise at just the right moment in our lives. A time we most desperately needed to be reminded of the sweetness of life and the promise of never being forsaken by God.
And Director/Artist Girl has continued to surprise me for two dozen years. Her brain did not develop speech at the appropriate milestone — her first real words did not come until age 3, when I was driving in the middle of Anchorage and singing, “I’ve got a joy, joy, joy down in my heart, down in my heart, …” Belting it out as I drive my toddler to her speech class, planning my Sunday school lesson in my head.
From the backseat came a tiny little “joy, joy, joy” that so shocked me, I had to pull off Northern Lights Boulevard and sob. I literally could not believe my ears, but there she was, my curly-haired cherub, her lips in a perfect “O” on “joy.” She could not have chosen a better word to start talking with.
It became obvious that her little mind had been way too busy growing creative wrinkles and crevices. From singing pitch-perfect to winning prizes for trombone playing, to comedic thespian timing to an incredible ability to express herself through many mediums of art.
It makes my head spin, frankly, all this talent from a human springing forth from me.
But I guess I knew Birthday Girl would throw me for a loop, the minute I saw the pink “+” where I expected to see the blue “-” sign. Which just went to show me who was really in charge.
Thank God.
Happiest, Artist Girl.

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