My daughter turns seven today. Here is a letter to her.
There is a movie I have written about on my blog before called “About Time” — someday in the future, I will watch it with you. At the end of the movie, there’s a moment where the father transports himself back to a time he spent with his young son on the beach. His son runs into the waves, plays, and laughs; it’s a perfect moment that the dad wants to remember about his son’s childhood.
There will come a time when I will think back to this year and remember you at this age. I will remember you dancing in our kitchen. I will remember your bright pink outfits. I will remember hearing you singing “Let It Go” in the shower. And I will certainly remember the warmth of you cuddling up next to me as we watched one of the lousy shows the boys picked for us to watch on TV.
There will come a time when I hope you begin to know how meaningful these moments have been to me. When I think of how uniquely special all three of you are, I can’t help but think of how unique your gentleness is — it has touched a deep part of me this year. Jesus talked about the faith of a child, and it is clear that his gentleness has been entrusted to you as a gift. Your gentleness is heavenly. So, share sparingly.
There will come a time when I have advice to offer in this letter, but not today. Today, keep twirling. Keep singing. Keep dancing. And when the harder times and lessons come, I advise you to fall back into these childhood habits. After all, you’ve taught me that it is better not to take life, or yourself, too seriously.
We actually are better off dancing.
To that end, there will also come a day when I look back and dream I could see my dancing seven-year-old one more time.
With all the love in the world,