Dear Reagan,
Today, unbelievably, you are seventeen years old. Seventeen years ago, they handed me your body and I finally cradled a child for which I had beseeched God for years. I stared down at that squished face and couldn’t believe you were here. The year you were born, your birthday fell on the day before Thanksgiving. That first year as Thanksgiving morning dawned, I sat in a hospital room struggling to get my pain under control after a 27-hour labor and a c-section delivery. Just you and I in the room, I held you against me and all that my overflowing heart would let me squeak out was a “Thank you.” Through the haze of pain, I knew God had given me an incredible gift. I didn’t know, of course, what kind of person you would turn out to be. I could have never imagined or dreamed of the awesome woman you would grow into. But this year, this matching scenario of a birthday the day before Thanksgiving, it is impossible not to be grateful all over again for the gift of you. I think I can squeak out a few more words now.
I am so thankful for the wise girl that you are. You are in hard classes as a junior. You know things I could never
understand. Precalculus for
example. When we go to parent teacher
conferences and your precalc teacher tells us what a brilliant young woman you
are I have to pinch myself. Very early
on in your school career you had a year where you were struggling in math. I tutored you through basic math facts and
that’s all it took for you to take on math classes with confidence. You bring home very good grades because you desire
to do well. You put in the time and the
effort. You apply yourself to your
schoolwork. You set goals and achieve
them. You spend the time it takes to get
the results you want. You are far
smarter than your parents (in most ways). Perfection is not a good goal, but excellence
is. Push for excellence but leave
perfection out of the picture and you will not be disappointed.
I am so thankful for the hard worker that you are. A few years ago, you started working at
Jaarsma Bakery. You honestly enjoy
it. You pick up open shifts when it
works for you because you like helping them out. They’ve given you some new opportunities
lately and you’ve taken them on willingly.
You don’t complain about work. I
imagine that everyone there breathes a sigh of relief when you walk in the door
for a shift. I love that you have
developed your own descriptions of every item in the case, that you have a ready
spiel of “recommendations” to give to customers who so often ask you what your
favorite is, and that you are part tourist guide for your out-of-town customers
who want to know the best place to grab lunch.
You take responsibility for your work, and it shows.
I am so thankful for the sister that you are to your siblings. Even though you and Maddie reportedly look alike, you are very different personalities. Even so, the two of you compliment each other well. Her silliness helps you lighten up at times when you are taking things too seriously. The two of you have fallen head over heels for Taylor Swift and that’s pretty much all I hear music-wise coming from your basement bedrooms. Sometimes you try to mother Maddie in a way she does not initially appreciate. I know that comes from a place of genuine care for her. You have grown in your understanding that she is not you, she will not choose the same clothing or hair or makeup you choose, and that she is making her own way through the world. And yet, you love that girl a whole lot. Watching you help her with her geometry homework was the highlight of my week. You sat there with her pencil in your hand asking her about angles and formulas all while she answered in goofy voices and took silly videos of you. Her giggles combined with your exasperated voice saying, “Maddie!” has been a chorus in our home for years and I absolutely love it. You adore your brother and though he loves you big right back, he most often shakes off your hugs because he is almost 11 and that it is not cool to get squeezed by surprise. The two of you bond the most over random iPhone/iPad games which seem un-entertaining to me, but you could play for HOURS. You are a big, important part of that boy’s life. I’m glad he has you for an older sibling and a good example and a lifelong friend.
I am so thankful for the athlete that you have become on the
tennis court. When you were young, we
sort of mistakenly thought you weren’t an athlete. We were wrong. I don’t remember when we first put that
tennis racket in your hands but boy, am I glad we did! You are so cool and calm and collected in
tennis matches while your dad and I are on absolute pins and needles. You have worked so hard to develop your game. Much of your summer was spent on the courts
(when you weren’t in the bakery). Hot as
it was, you took Hunter out there and you would hit and hit and hit. You are your own worst critic and it’s tough
to win the mental battle in those tough matches. You play with such poise and integrity, and
you put in the time in the off-season so that you can be the player your team
needs you to be when it counts.
I am so thankful for the pianist you are. It’s this one that amazes me most. You walk in the door from school or work or
church and the first place you sit is at your piano. Sometimes you sit there and work out a piece
of music. But most often you sit down
and just start playing without a note or a book in sight. You just play. Maybe it’s a song we sang in church that
week. Maybe it’s a song you heard on the
radio. Maybe it’s a song you made up
entirely on your own. I don’t understand
it at all, but you just sit down and there it is. It’s like whatever thoughts or emotions have
built up inside you just come spilling out in this avalanche of beautiful music
pouring out into our home. You always shrug
when I tell you how amazing your talents are.
Just because there are people in the world who might be better than you
doesn’t make your gifts any less wonderful.
That you can write and arrange piano pieces so effortlessly is an
amazing talent and one that will richly bless the people in your life. Don’t shrug it off. Smile and be thankful that people enjoy
it.
I am so thankful for the talent trumpet player that you are. Every year you get better and better. Especially lately you have been working on pieces of music that make your dad and I just shake our heads. They sound impossible. Yet there you are, teaching them to yourself many times by looking up professional performances on YouTube so that you can hear it and mimic it. You had an amazing year of success on trumpet as a 16-year-old/sophomore. There were so many moments where we were just so thrilled by an honor you received, an award you had won, or an achievement you had made. Your confidence is growing. You handle the pressure of so many auditions so well now. You put in the time preparing pieces for competitions, auditions, and performances. It might be what people know you for the best. And it is a great part of you worth celebrating. But there’s much more to you.
I am so thankful for the quiet, thoughtful girl that you are. You are patient beyond my understanding. You are truth-seeking and studious and attentive about your faith. You are determined and yet balanced. You aren’t perfect (ie: you’ve lost your phone a lot) but you are awesome.
I always thought I would have to “find a way to survive” the
teen years of my children. Nothing could
have been more wrong. I have LOVED your
teen years. I feel oddly guilty writing
these letters sometimes. I know that
other parents have a harder time with their teens. Why God gave me you, such an amazing young
woman, I just cannot understand. I know
I played a part in who you are, but it feels small. God created you to be just
exactly who you are. You step into that
more fully every year. It’s incredible
to watch. A gift as incredible as you
isn’t something I could have earned. God
specializes in giving good things that we don’t deserve. You are a daily reminder of that to me.
It’s fun to be your mom and see you become more than I ever
could have dreamed seventeen years ago. I’m
so grateful for all that you have been, all that you are, and all that you will
be.
I love you, Reagan.
Love,
Mom
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