My daughter fell from the swingset. It scared her and it hurt. The whole house full of boys and one anxious mama came running. I wiped the blood away. She cried. I held her. She cried some more. I rocked her in the big chair in the living room. She cried some more.
Her best friend, who is also the brother two years older, watched with sad eyes, longing to comfort. I didn't notice when he left the room, but I saw him return, triumph shining. He was clutching a torn piece of notebook paper. He thrust it out in front of his wounded sister. "Here, here's your letter." I assumed he had hastily drawn her a get-well picture.
Their eyes met. She nodded. And took it.
I continued to rock her.
Minutes later, I glanced down at the notebook paper beside her. In handwriting much too neat to be a brother's, it read,
"You are a gorgeis yong girl. Thanks for being with me. You are amazing."
Confused, I asked her about it. Who wrote this? Where did it come from?
"I did," she said simply.
"You wrote yourself this letter?"
"Yes, I wrote it and put it away in my room, so that when I was having a really bad day, I could look at it and remember."
"And the part about 'being with me?' What did that mean?"
"Well, I'm always with myself."
I laughed outloud at her simple logic, but long after she was better and had returned to playing with her brother, I sat and thought about that one.
How extraordinarily wise is this slip of a girl.
To have the foresight to know confidence can be fleeting.
To be prepared to strengthen her own heart when the need arises.
To be a friend to herself.
And how extraordinarily blessed is this girl.
To have a friend who knows where to find the letter.
I pray today that you, treasured friend, will always be able to remember that you are gorgeous. I bless you with the confidence of knowing you are amazing. And I ask the Father on your behalf to always provide for you a friend who can sing in your ear the words of your own heart's melody if ever you can not.
