Princess Christmas

Three years ago today a beautiful, amazing, intelligent creature came wailing into my life, and my world has never rotated quite the same. At 10:10 a.m. on Thursday, December 28, 2006, at St. Francis Medical Center, Sarah Noelle became a reality instead of just an unattainable dream.

My sweet little girl is three years old today, so it seems fitting to start with a blog about her. She is the definition of spirited, and if my grandmother were alive today, I’m sure they would regularly sneak off together to cause whatever mischief they could legally get into. Sometimes when Sarah cuts her eyes at me, I see Grandma looking back, and it makes me exceedingly sad to know that those two souls never met. Grandma is one of the main people in my life that I should’ve spent more time thanking, but that’s the subject of another day’s blog. 

Today we’re here to talk about Sarah Noelle. Princess Christmas. Pooperdoodle. Sarah Bearah. My oldest daughter. My heart. My reason. Reason for what, you might ask? Every thing and every breath.

Sarah,

I love you. For the last three years, you have been my reason for breathing. I will not be a perfect mother. I will make mistakes, and there will be times when we will disagree. You and I are so much alike, but there is one difference between us – while I was a headstrong child too afraid to speak my mind, you are a headstrong child who is fearless. You keep going in moments when I would’ve stopped. That will both serve you well and cause problems for you, and I pray that you will learn to balance your spirit with your compassion. You certainly have an abundance of both.

Thank you for coming into my life. I’m sorry that your first two years were tough in relation to your biological father, and I’m ever-thankful that you will never remember some of the things that happened during that time. One day we will sit down and talk about it, but the most important thing to remember is that you were conceived with a lot of love. There was never a time that you weren’t loved by dozens of people who were thinking of you and lifting you up in prayer. You might not have come into the world in a “traditional” home setting, but you had more mamas and daddies looking over you than most and more love than 10 kids might normally have.

I am thankful that you are my daughter. I pray that one day you will think of me as your best friend the way I think of Nana as mine. If I can ever feel that I have positively influenced your life and have given you the tools you need to be happy, I will feel that I have accomplished some small measure of payback for the joy and laughter you have brought to me.

Stop and smell the flowers, baby girl. Some day you will be my age, and many of the people in your life right now won’t be there for one reason or another. Take the time to smell those flowers, pass them out and graciously accept them in return.

You are loved. More than you can ever know.

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About Rebecca Mixon

If you attend my funeral, please wear red. Make sure my loved ones do not bury me in shoes, and make sure they don't let the undertaker make me look ridiculous. I want beautiful music and lots of storytelling. All that will be great once I'm gone from this Earth. But, while I'm here, give me my flowers while I live. It has come to my attention lately that we don't "give people their flowers" until it's too late for them to enjoy the beauty, the colors, the sentiment. I'm changing that. The people in my life will know how they are appreciated and loved, and they will smell the aroma of their flowers as often as I get the chance to tell them. This blog is about the blessings in my life. Mainly, it's about the people who keep my world spinning on a good axis and help me realize that work, bills and stress mean nothing. Family counts. The rest is just gravy.
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