Seven

Last Sunday I saw PSP’s Sunday school class walking to their classroom but I didn’t see my daughter.  I casually asked the teacher where she was and she didn’t know either…she said she had been right behind them but they lost her on the way.  I was headed that direction and told her I’d find her and send her over.  I found my daughter holding a large stack of papers that were threatening to get away from her, walking next to one of the elderly sisters of our church who teaches a younger Sunday school class.  PSP was holding the papers for this older woman, while the older woman was trying to manage the wheelchair of another young girl in our church.  A woman turned to me and said, “She just brings a tear to my eye…” and I pointed at the girl in the wheelchair.  And she said, “No, your daughter.”  PSP patiently walked beside this sister, quietly and kindly offering her assistance without, I assume, being asked.  Instinctually I think she just knows that managing a wheelchair requires a little more help.

Sometimes us moms get a lot of credit for our children being smart, kind and wonderful people.  And so often I want to say, I didn’t do that, they just came that way.  I never taught PSP how to be a good friend, daughter or big sister…she just is.  Her inner and outer beauty often leave me breathless.  Individually we would not be the same people we are without her and collectively we would not be the same family we are without her.  Seven years ago she made me a mom and I’ll be grateful for her the rest of my days.

Happy Birthday PSP.