I have a rich history with this one. On its pages live the night that I did house laps with her on my hip . . . she screamed so loud the whole time, the neighbors knocked on the door to check on our safety. I was 38 weeks pregnant at the time with my first baby. oh, the terror.
On its other pages live the kindergarten Christmas pageant . . . the one where Rachel stood on the front step, oblivious to the singing happening around her, but participated in her own little production, dancing and lifting her dress to her waist.
But here’s what I know. She’s a smart cookie. She’s read all of Austen, Rivers, Kingsbury, and the like.
She has BIG dreams. And she’s not afraid to take the steps to bring them to fruition, with a trust in Jesus that allows her to soar without a safety net.
On stage, she’s MAGIC. One of the few people that makes me laugh so hard I cry.
She’s Giselle. You know, from Enchanted . . . the way that she sees the best in her peeps, embraces life, and turn lemons in limoncello cheesecake.
She’s my girl. Well, she’s my beautiful sister’s girl, but Nance and I have always kinda shared identities, so she’s MY girl.