Celebrating 8

This morning (just after midnight) marks 8 years of Isabelle's life.

8 years of her giggles.

8 years of her spunk.

8 years of crazy questions (see below).

And several years of witty sarcasm (thank you, Daddy).

We've had a week long of celebrations. A trip to the American Girl store and an Art Expo party with her BFF (more on the blog later). This morning she leapt out of bed, onto her balloon strewn floor, singing, "It's my birthdaaaaaay!" I got a little teary as we sang to her over her requested pink sprinkle pancakes with a candle.

It's been such an honor being this girls mama. It's been crazy and tiring and joy-filled and challenging and wonderful. We're far away from sleepless nights and potty training, but we're into the hard conversations, homework, and the d-r-a-m-a.

This week Isabelle started gymnastics. As I watched her on her first time on the beam, I noticed she no longer had the chubby little legs with rolls. She's now long and lean. And graceful. She's slowly growing up and if I'm honest it scares me. Do I have what it takes to be her mom? To shepherd her heart? To teach her all it means to be a woman in this world? To share the gospel with her so that she'll know what a treasure it is?

I'm thankful I don't have to be enough for my daughter. That in the midst of my trying to be all I can for her that Jesus is enough. 

That is my prayer for Isabelle. That Jesus will be enough for her at 8. And 18. And 80.

Happy Birthday, Bella. You're my favorite girl.