Owen, you are almost eight years old, and that seems too big
and just right at the same time.
You are hilarious. Your quick wit reminds me of your Uncle
Bo, and you constantly have us in stitches. You have an appropriate level of
sarcasm, and you do outlandish things that make me laugh and shake my head at
the same time. You recently stopped calling our dog “Lucy” – instead, I hear
you shouting things like “Jennifer!” or “Susan!”, or saying “Oh, hey Avocado!
That’s a good girl, Beanie.”
You are such a thinker. Your head is full of questions and ponderings, to the point where you can seem really absentminded. I can't count the times that you come up to me and completely forget what you were going to say, or you leave the room to complete a task and I find you wandering around the hallway looking a little lost. But I can always count on you to quietly process big thoughts or circumstances, and I love the challenge of pulling those thoughts out in conversation.
You love to play whatever sport is in season. All you’ve
wanted to do for weeks is have the whole family in the front yard playing flag
football, and just over the past week you’ve begun to shift toward basketball
drills in the driveway. You played baseball in the spring and your all star
team made it to the Junior League World Series again! You played in your first
USTA tennis tournament this fall and can’t wait to try another one.
You have a thirst for the Word of God. You love reading
Scripture and making connections. You have a thoughtful and deep spirit. I had
a miscarriage this summer, and you have dealt with it the longest and hardest.
I treasure the times that you and I have talked through the value of life and
the goodness and wisdom of God and how to grieve well and rejoice even in
suffering.
Buddy, I love you so much. I love watching you grow and I
really do believe the best things are yet to come. You are a gift.
Happy birthday, my almost 8 year old!
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