Fifth Position

Audrey is 5!

March Teen

We didn't find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow -no, I wouldn't go so far as to say that - but we did play Pin the Tail on the Donkey and Duck, Duck, Goose, and Round and Round it Goes. And then there was the business - the inestimably serious business - of the piñata. A very, very large piñata in the shape of a white pony with hearts on its hind legs and a rainbow-colored mane. So. No leprechauns. And no pot of gold. But lots of silver platters piled high with powdered donuts and miniature red velvet cupcakes and laughing children and a dining room full of red balloons. I don't know about other people, but that is as good as a pot of gold to me.

March Teen

...is only four days away. We're getting ready to party - to Pinata Party, to be exact. And pin the tail on the donkey. I ordered red wax lips for all the girls, black mustaches for the boys, and I plan on singing a few Irish tunes while I snap photographs.

My Favorite Day

We tugged at our wet bathing suits, on our way to pizza. It had been a long day – a good day: “March Teen;” the day we celebrated Audrey’s fourth birthday. In the morning she sat around the wooden dining table, surrounded by friends, and ate a decadent breakfast of cold cereal, bagels with cream cheese, boiled eggs, fresh berries, chocolate milk, and orange juice. Afterward, the children opened presents before streaming outside to blow bubbles.

In the haze of afternoon Grandpa and Aunt Sommer took Audrey to the Gaslight Theater while Dutch and I and Evangeline went out hunting for an old piano – we found one, a 1929 Wurlitzer which, as we drove to dinner, was hid beneath a sheet in the entryway, waiting for Audrey to unveil it.

The sky was black and starless – the moon hung like a giant paper lantern in the sky, white and round and smooth. “The biggest moon in twenty years!” a little voice proclaimed in astonishment. “It’s the biggest moon in twenty years!” I turned around to look - Audrey was nuzzling Snowflake, the little toy dog Walker had given her as a birthday gift. “It’s for you, Snowflake,” she said ebulliently. “It’s just for you – because today is your birthday.”

She leaned her head back - her wet hair slicked back like a little golden helmet atop her elfin shoulders - gazed out the window, and sighed. The moonlight streamed in from outside, lighting up her face and forehead and I saw what looked like little white stars dancing in the brown oceans of her eyes. “O,” she said, to no one in particular, “this is my favorite day.”

My heart swelled; suddenly it was my favorite day, too.

Dear Sweet Audrey Sophia,

Four years ago today, at one o'clock in the afternoon, my life was changed forever - because that was the day I met you. It was the day God gave me the great, glorious task of being your mother. Every day since has been made more beautiful, richer, and full of greater joy, because of your presence; and every morning when I wake up I am overwhelmed with gratitude - if a little mournful for lack of sleep - the moment your and Evie's bushy heads nuzzle into bed beside me.

Yesterday morning, for example, we we were sitting at the wooden dining table - you were eating "pop cereal" while I drank my coffee, a little bowl of blueberries between us, when you flung your head back and suddenly exclaimed, "Oh, Mudder - you're so kind to your daughters!" I smiled and told you I did try to be kind.

You put down your spoon and your eyes widened, a look of sincere puzzlement on your face. "Mudder,” you said, “you don't have to try!"

“Really?” I asked. “Why not?”

“Be-cause,” you said. “You're just kind. You don’t have to try."

While I struggled to suppress the bubble of laughter welling up inside me, you went on breathlessly, as if something even more extraordinary had just occurred to you: “And, Mudder," you said panting, "you have your king – Daddy, he’s your king - and you're the queen, and you have your precious daughters. So you don't have to worry!”

Then I did laugh, but it was a welcoming, appreciative laugh, and you sat back in your chair and beamed at me with pleasure. "How is it," I said, "that you, my little not-yet-four-year-old daughter, can speak to me so incisively?"

You shrugged and said you didn't know. I shook my head and said I didn't know either; and then we both laughed heartily.

Even now, as I recount the story, tears prick my eyes - and I wonder, how will I ever recover from the absence of you little ones, when, one day, God-willing, you grow up and are gone? I don’t know; but, as you suggested, I will try not to worry it - try, instead, to keep entrusting all of us to God, who promises to meet all our needs in Christ Jesus.

After all, tomorrow is a long way off. Today is your fourth birthday, and I am doing my best to simply enjoy your presence.

March Teen!

Tomorrow is March Teen - that is, Audrey's birthday. We've invited a few friends over for a "breakfast birthday party" - but I'm still lingering over these sweet vintage stamps I found to paste on her invitations. They just don't seem to make them like this anymore!

A Visit to the Beauty Parlor

Today is her birthday; tomorrow is her party. So what better way to prepare then a visit to the beauty parlor? It was her first one. And though she was near to tears by the end, she did a grand job sitting still.