Hazel | Korynn
(God sees you) | (Little lady)
Tonight as I put you to bed, I held your little frame in my arms for the last time as a five year old. It felt, for many reasons, like the last time as a baby girl. You cried because you wanted to stay five forever. You are ever growing, changing, evolving, maturing. Your eyes look excitedly to the tomorrows, but they see every moment much clearer than any of us could ever hope to. Sometimes you carry the weight of change heavy like muscles that are stretching to new lengths, and you grieve it. You’re good at this. It’s in your bloodline. Your greenish gold eyes see life for what it is: beautiful, scary, sacred. Of course you can’t define these things right now. You know that a party is defined by how big the cake is, and that there’s something a little scary about leaving behind one year and beginning another. You, Hazel, are true. True to your heart, true to all your feels, to your soul ties and desires.
It’s been quite the year for you, baby. Your beloved Grammy vanished from your reach and you were thrust into a world that is very hard to understand, even for us adults. You’re learning the hard way about the beauty that is heaven, the longing of creation for that day when all is Redeemed. “The new city” as you call it. You’re learning that God loves to talk to you. That he loves to tell you what Grammy is doing with Him, and what she would say to you if she could talk to you in this moment. You’re learning that sometimes our sadness and hurt looks a lot like anger and frustration. You’re learning to define and verbalize your heart in ways far better than most old people I know. These are heavy things for a five-turning-six year old, but you’re the strongest girl I know.
You are the strongest girl I know, Hazel Korynn. Not because you need to be, or are expected to be, but because when God knit you together in my belly He anointed the thick spools of thread with strength of angel armies. You were made a protector. You were made a lover. You were made a dreamer. You were made to crave justice and understanding. You take on the emotions of those around you, and rather than running from the feeling, you lean into it. You find ways to cultivate it. Even when you are afraid, you let yourself feel. Your weaknesses prove your strength. Your courage. You are brave. You are strong.
Your Jesus has so much to say to you this year. I’m lucky because sometimes He gives me a little preview. He shares with me what He is going to do in your heart, and the ways you will step further in to the destiny you were born with. You are a good daughter, Hazel. I love you more and more and more each day and there’s nothing that could EVER change that!
Thank you for making my life fun, baby girl. Thank you for finding the magic of mermaids and sprinkles. For making me laugh when you tell me you have a surprise for me, then turn around and shake your booty in my face! Thank you for making silly faces and pointing out all your new freckles and forever wanting it to be summertime. Thank you for still saying words wrong, like “busgusting” and “remembery”. You are my dream.