Dear Tessa Jane,

It is with a twinge of regret that I find myself writing you another birthday letter. There seems to be less and less time in between each one. You won’t have noticed, but actually it’s about a week later every year that I finally sit down to write it. Life is crazier for mom than it was 6 years ago when it was just you and I at home. But it also delays the inevitable for me, if only falsely. 

Today I write while watching you in gymnastics, you’re latest obsession. You gave it a go last year at this time and didn’t grasp hold (the gym was lousy…) but after watching a few gymnastic themed movies this past year, you’re convinced it’s your destiny. You may be right. I think your destiny is made of great things. Other things you have obsessed over this past year… Art. You are potentially, solely responsible for cutting down an entire forest with all the paper you have used this past year creating books and art projects and masterpieces. You take great care in creating these works of art, sitting at the kitchen table drawing and coloring, gluing and stapling away. You will usually gift your project upon completion. I think I was the winner (thank you for that) but others were lucky recipients too. Dad, Oning, your friends and teachers.  Performing…you sit your brothers and me down for a show at least once a week. I love them. Watching you confidently sing or dance or cartwheel your way along that living room rug that is your stage makes my heart soar. I tend to think this display of inhibition has an expiration date. I hope I’m wrong. But if not, I’ll soak up every little bit that I can. Your brothers indulge you less. Bode in particular tires of you hogging the stage all the time. Whitty is still a willing spectator. Dance…you gave ballet up this fall when deciding to do gymnastics. It made me a little sad, you’ve been prancing around on your twinkle toes since you were three. I hope it’s not over for good. Skiing…your dad and I zealously put you into ski lessons this past spring and watched with great excitement and anticipation as you excelled. You nailed that pizza pie, started turning those tips and coming to a stop. We’ve been waiting since you were born for that one you know. Five and a half years was worth the wait.  Fashion…you’ve still a keen eye for a killer outfit. And we seem to be aligning a bit more on what we think is a killer outfit.

In fact, we’re lining up on a lot more in general than we have been for the past few years. You have really jumped in to help me this past year with your baby brother and with your dad traveling all the time. There are more times than I’d care to remember when I was not a great mom. When I instead, was an impatient, tired, at the end of my rope, mom. And you Tess, usually take the brunt of it. I expect more out of you because you’re the oldest, you’re capable and frankly, the smartest. I’m sorry T. I’m really sorry. While six sounds old, you’re still a little girl. A sweet, tiny, little girl and I’m harder on you than I should be. You’ve really tried hard to be helpful. You aim to please. And when mom was so stressed with Whittman and dad gone all the time, you really stepped up. Thank you Tess. I count on you more than you know and probably more than is fair. You are a good kid. And you are a great sister.  When you want to be, which fortunately is more often than when you don’t want to be. Man, you can push his buttons. I think sometimes teasing Bode to the verge of tears is your greatest pleasure in this life. BUT, when you two get going playing outside or making a fort or jimmy rigging something up in the playroom, it’s magic. You two have the best time together and are the best of pals. I know he does and will continue to drive you crazy the majority of the time, but remember he is your greatest friend. He loves you, looks up to you, wants to be with you and sleep with you. Whitt, you adore. You call him, “your chubby, fat little man.” You love to kiss him before you walk out the door.

Year 1 was intensely gratifying for your dad and I to watch. FINALLY, after two long years, you found your niche, your groove, a comfort zone. You settled into Victory Heights exactly as we wished you would. You were quick to make friends and quick to progress in your studies. That’s not to say it was all sunshine and rainbows. Academics has not come as easily for you as we thought it might. Smart and clever as you are, you still have to work pretty hard. You often times get easily frustrated during homework. Lose your focus, are easily distracted and sometimes, just lose your willingness to try. Nothing drives your dad or me crazier than when you quit trying. It’s maddening. Mostly, because we know you can. Do not quit or give up or choose to be lazy when it gets hard Tessa. You know how to persevere in difficult situations far better than any other six year old I know. Apply that capability to school. You’ve won too many battles to forget how to fight. You are far and away the youngest little monkey in your class. You are reading and spelling against kids that are 12-18 months older than you and it makes it challenging. You’re doing a great job.

You’ve moved into Year 2 this fall with the same level of ease. We’re so happy and so relieved. You’ll have to continue to work hard, but you can do it. Mom and dad are here to support you and you have a great team of friends at school.

This past year has brought many questions in regards to Islam and how it relates to Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father. You ask great questions and seek genuine understanding.  You are aware that many of your friends believe differently than you do. And you’re learning that, that is ok. We’re trying to teach you, not only is it ok, but it’s wonderful and makes you and your friends and your school very cool and interesting. Our biggest wish for you at the end of this experience in the Middle East is that you will have developed a love, an empathy and an understanding for those that have a different faith, a different upbringing and a different way of life. Remember always Tess, that our way is not the best way, it’s just our way, the way we know and love. And that other people’s ways are just as important and wonderful to them as ours is, to us. At the same time, we don’t want you to ever forget who you are and what you stand for. Be proud of your beliefs.

Your destiny may be gymnastics, it may not. It may an American diplomat, it may not. It may painting on the streets of Paris and it may not. What it is, Tess is yours. Yours to define and yours to create.  What I have said for the past six years, I will say again. You are made of great stuff. The best stuff. So wherever your destiny lies, it’s going to be great. No ‘may not’s’ about it.