my dearest em,
you are quite possibly the bittiest eight year old in the history of unfortunate gene pools, but you carry a heart as wide and luminous as the moon.
and that, hitched to your impish grin and sweet cleverness, will take you just about anywhere you and God need to go.
hold fast to the One who so relentlessly pursues you. effuse your aspirations at His feet.
stand as tall as the mercy that rescues and heals you, and be grace with skin on in your small circle of the world.
happy birthday, my sweet boy. go on and take the world by storm.
* * *
more imperfect prose at emily's.
Deconstructed Sketch No. 161
4 hours ago