Katie's birthday

Today my oldest daughter turns 24. It's hard to believe.

I remember the day she came from Korea. We waited in the airport, with love and excitement mixed so thouroughly that the air was thick with it. For us, it was a dream delayed. Katie was supposed to come a month earlier, but on the day of her anticipated arrival we received word that she was too sick to travel. I fell apart, pretty completely. But now she was arriving. On the drive to the airport, I warned Art not to expect much. To be prepared for a wasted, moth-eaten bundle of rags with no comeliness to draw us. How shocked I was to find in my arms a chubby bundle of contentment, sucking on her two fingers. Why, she was the most adorable child that came. How could we have been so fortunate as to get the most beautiful child there? (Looking back, I wonder if every waiting mom felt that way?)

I remember the years of her increasing imagination. Stories of monkeys in trees and monsters with pink eyes and amazing feats. Years of spontaneous hugs and exuberant energy and determined willfullness. Her voice was a delight, every note hit with perfection and sung with earnestness. I remember a youth filled with talent and ability and enthusiasm and laughter.

There are years I'd rather not remember. Years of conflict and pain and misunderstanding and despair. Times of rejection and anger and apparent hatred. Years of wondering what had gone wrong and where I had failed.

I remember watching and waiting and praying as she discovered her own path. Of giving up on making her stay with me on mine. Of releasing her from my control, but not from my heart.

I watch now with wonder as she comes home with joy, wanting to be with us. I store up memories of her calling with excitement to share news with us first because she knows we care most. I stand amazed and silent as she pays verbal tribute to her upbringing and exonerates us of our guilt. I watch in wonder as she seeks our counsel, treasuring our views. I delight in the dimension she adds to our family, a spice that gives it depth.

I wait with anticipation to see how she will grow. To see the path she will take, to find how she will give and contribute. I remember the little girl entrusted to our care, completely dependent in our arms. I remember the love and excitement with which I anticipated the future. It's still there.