Oh, Schnipps. Six? What can I say about who you are right now? How can I put you into words so that one day when you're thirty with babies of your own you will be able to go back here, to see yourself through my eyes?
You are incredibly smart. We've done your first year of homeschooling and are just about to begin your second year. It's going exactly as I thought it would in your last letter, sometimes it's perfect, sometimes it's so difficult. You've skipped first grade already, which because we are homeschooling, is a bit of a technicality. You're still in the first grade community class at school - you go once a week and it starts soon. You loved it last year and you can't wait to go again.
Something that is new about you in the last year is that all of a sudden, you became brave. I don't know how this happened. My sweet cautious girl who was once afraid of playground equipment is swinging out on ropes over the lake. You showed me a video of you doing this with Daddy and I just had to see it for myself, so I made you both take me back to the spot you found and show it to me again. Daddy held you and pulled you back so far and then just let go, just like that. You flew out over the lake, your hair flying in the breeze and it took my breath away. A year ago you wouldn't have even considered doing something like this. You're teaching yourself to swim and Daddy is teaching you to climb mountains and you're so amazing, the way you move and run and sing and try. I love watching you grow up - it's the most beautiful thing in the world. Once from an airplane, I watched the sun set for about five hours - it feels like that. It goes on and on and if I stop to think about it too much the fleeting beauty of it hits me in the stomach and I forget to breathe for a second.
We learned a few weeks ago that technically, you're known as a "gifted child". I don't love the way that sounds because it makes it sound like other children don't have gifts or abilities that make them special, which is obviously untrue. What it does mean is that your brain works in a really unique way. A better way to say it is that you're an asynchronous learner. Your brain has developed much faster than your physical body or your emotions. You're able to understand and memorize things incredibly quickly. You have an incredibly high IQ. We had you tested at the beginning of this school year, and the psychologist was amazed at you. I was relieved - it means I'm not crazy. I do not have an incredibly high IQ and sometimes I struggle to really understand you. There is something about you that's just different. Not better or worse, just different. Can I tell you something? This is tricky for me. It's tricky because it does make you really difficult to parent sometimes. You're so logical, you understand so much, and you tend to argue a lot in an effort to understand something completely. Sometimes this makes me very tired. The other part that is tricky is that sometimes it's hard to be proud of you publicly or to explain to people what you are like without sounding like I'm bragging instead of just really proud. I have always cared too much what other people think, and I think sometimes when people hear how smart you are, they can act differently toward you. People (including me) can be really silly. You have a friend who is such an amazing artist, which is something you and I are not very good at. I just love seeing the art that he makes. I know of another kid who can karate chop a board in half. I know a two year old who colors perfectly. That's amazing to me. I love that kids are different and amazing in all sorts of ways. You happen to be remarkably intelligent. That's not bragging - it's part of who God made you to be and I want to be able to celebrate that in an honest way. It's obviously part of His amazing plan for your life, just like I think that art is a part of who God made your friend to be. All of those things are beautiful expressions of who He is, and I love seeing the parts of His personality played out in different people. It's why we're all needed, it shows me we all have a part to play. There is no way in the world, that even if I tried my hardest, I could be a neurosurgeon. You could. I can see it in you. I can see the incredibly meticulous way you do things, I can see you make connections and form concepts and then think in a really implicational way about those concepts and draw conclusions. You've just always been like that. I can't change it any more than I could change the fact that you're very short and tiny. I'm stunned by you on a continual basis.
I heard once that true humility is the ability to be knows for exactly who you are, no more AND no less. Making you seem like less is just as unjust as making yourself seem like more. We are trying to teach you that it's okay that "all the kids in the gymnastics class are better and faster than you" as well as that, "technically, you're kind of a genius." Both statements are true. It's who you are, and I love all of it. I love that you keep trying gymnastics, even though you struggle with it. I love seeing you be brave and persistent. I love watching you do a math problem or write a story, or build and invent something. You're amazing. All of you.
I pray somehow that I can raise you to be the kind of person who doesn't base her worth on the way we are compared to others. I think comparison is a fact of life, it's something we all do. It can be good. It shows us where we are, like a spot on a map. Somehow though, you need to know that if you become a neurosurgeon or a waitress, a ballerina or a construction worker, I want you to be happy and proud of who you ARE. Not what you can do. I pray that the former never gets lost in the latter. That you find your identity in your character instead of your ability. If somehow I can teach you that, then you're set. All the rest will just be details.
You are smart.
You are brave.
You are kind.
You are compassionate.
You are beautiful.
You are independent.
You are funny.
You are strong.
You are enough.
You are so deeply and wildly loved by Jesus.
You are also so incredibly loved by me. All of you. I love your wild hair and your huge questioning eyes. I love your fierce determination and your calculating logic. I love the way you dance and sing. I love that you are funny and silly and sweet. I love that you are a protective big sister, and a strong-willed daughter. I wouldn't change you for anything in the whole world - you are exactly as you were meant to be, and I'm really honored to be your Mama.
I love you much Isabella. So so much.
Mama
You are incredibly smart. We've done your first year of homeschooling and are just about to begin your second year. It's going exactly as I thought it would in your last letter, sometimes it's perfect, sometimes it's so difficult. You've skipped first grade already, which because we are homeschooling, is a bit of a technicality. You're still in the first grade community class at school - you go once a week and it starts soon. You loved it last year and you can't wait to go again.
Something that is new about you in the last year is that all of a sudden, you became brave. I don't know how this happened. My sweet cautious girl who was once afraid of playground equipment is swinging out on ropes over the lake. You showed me a video of you doing this with Daddy and I just had to see it for myself, so I made you both take me back to the spot you found and show it to me again. Daddy held you and pulled you back so far and then just let go, just like that. You flew out over the lake, your hair flying in the breeze and it took my breath away. A year ago you wouldn't have even considered doing something like this. You're teaching yourself to swim and Daddy is teaching you to climb mountains and you're so amazing, the way you move and run and sing and try. I love watching you grow up - it's the most beautiful thing in the world. Once from an airplane, I watched the sun set for about five hours - it feels like that. It goes on and on and if I stop to think about it too much the fleeting beauty of it hits me in the stomach and I forget to breathe for a second.
We learned a few weeks ago that technically, you're known as a "gifted child". I don't love the way that sounds because it makes it sound like other children don't have gifts or abilities that make them special, which is obviously untrue. What it does mean is that your brain works in a really unique way. A better way to say it is that you're an asynchronous learner. Your brain has developed much faster than your physical body or your emotions. You're able to understand and memorize things incredibly quickly. You have an incredibly high IQ. We had you tested at the beginning of this school year, and the psychologist was amazed at you. I was relieved - it means I'm not crazy. I do not have an incredibly high IQ and sometimes I struggle to really understand you. There is something about you that's just different. Not better or worse, just different. Can I tell you something? This is tricky for me. It's tricky because it does make you really difficult to parent sometimes. You're so logical, you understand so much, and you tend to argue a lot in an effort to understand something completely. Sometimes this makes me very tired. The other part that is tricky is that sometimes it's hard to be proud of you publicly or to explain to people what you are like without sounding like I'm bragging instead of just really proud. I have always cared too much what other people think, and I think sometimes when people hear how smart you are, they can act differently toward you. People (including me) can be really silly. You have a friend who is such an amazing artist, which is something you and I are not very good at. I just love seeing the art that he makes. I know of another kid who can karate chop a board in half. I know a two year old who colors perfectly. That's amazing to me. I love that kids are different and amazing in all sorts of ways. You happen to be remarkably intelligent. That's not bragging - it's part of who God made you to be and I want to be able to celebrate that in an honest way. It's obviously part of His amazing plan for your life, just like I think that art is a part of who God made your friend to be. All of those things are beautiful expressions of who He is, and I love seeing the parts of His personality played out in different people. It's why we're all needed, it shows me we all have a part to play. There is no way in the world, that even if I tried my hardest, I could be a neurosurgeon. You could. I can see it in you. I can see the incredibly meticulous way you do things, I can see you make connections and form concepts and then think in a really implicational way about those concepts and draw conclusions. You've just always been like that. I can't change it any more than I could change the fact that you're very short and tiny. I'm stunned by you on a continual basis.
I heard once that true humility is the ability to be knows for exactly who you are, no more AND no less. Making you seem like less is just as unjust as making yourself seem like more. We are trying to teach you that it's okay that "all the kids in the gymnastics class are better and faster than you" as well as that, "technically, you're kind of a genius." Both statements are true. It's who you are, and I love all of it. I love that you keep trying gymnastics, even though you struggle with it. I love seeing you be brave and persistent. I love watching you do a math problem or write a story, or build and invent something. You're amazing. All of you.
I pray somehow that I can raise you to be the kind of person who doesn't base her worth on the way we are compared to others. I think comparison is a fact of life, it's something we all do. It can be good. It shows us where we are, like a spot on a map. Somehow though, you need to know that if you become a neurosurgeon or a waitress, a ballerina or a construction worker, I want you to be happy and proud of who you ARE. Not what you can do. I pray that the former never gets lost in the latter. That you find your identity in your character instead of your ability. If somehow I can teach you that, then you're set. All the rest will just be details.
You are smart.
You are brave.
You are kind.
You are compassionate.
You are beautiful.
You are independent.
You are funny.
You are strong.
You are enough.
You are so deeply and wildly loved by Jesus.
You are also so incredibly loved by me. All of you. I love your wild hair and your huge questioning eyes. I love your fierce determination and your calculating logic. I love the way you dance and sing. I love that you are funny and silly and sweet. I love that you are a protective big sister, and a strong-willed daughter. I wouldn't change you for anything in the whole world - you are exactly as you were meant to be, and I'm really honored to be your Mama.
I love you much Isabella. So so much.
Mama
