8

While on a 9-day hiatus from facebook-- and pretty much all things electronic (computer, movies, and even the summer olympics!)-- my biggest girl hit another milestone: on August 12th, at about 5:15pm, she turned eight years old.

[Excuse me while I continue on my of-late-especially sentimental and emotional streak (I feel like post-partum hormones are hitting a bit late this time around), but my eyes fill with tears at just the mention of this. Time flies by and I grow more and more conflicted each day: I love seeing my children blossom, developing interests and skills and personality and tenderness toward the Lord, but I simultaneously feel myself so tempted to grasp at what was and what is, trying desperately to hang onto every second that keeps slipping me by.]

Bronwyn is a wonderful eight-year-old girl.

She is generous and compassionate.

She is a delightful and easy-going companion.

She is increasingly capable and confident, daily assisting me in the kitchen (I rarely prep salads or pick herbs from the garden for dinner or make sandwiches for lunch, thanks to her), able to tuck her younger sisters into bed, holding Elliot when I need an extra pair of hands, running errands with me when I don't want to go alone, and more.

She has many interests, loving dolls and princesses and musicals and ballet, as well as loving whiffle ball and dogs and digging in the garden and playing with her brothers.

She is a tough cookie: spills and bumps and bruises and sickness are all handled with great fortitude on her part.

Perhaps the thing that blesses me the most, though, about her is her love for Jesus. She truly wants to honor Him.

I like Bronwyn. She is one of my favorite people to spend time with.

And I love celebrating eight priceless years with her.

She is a true gift to our family.