My daughter, you grow so fast. It seems like yesterday I held you in my arms and kissed the newness of your cheeks; now I chase you around the yard and push you high in the swing. Your tiny cries have become shrieks of joy and your body can no longer stretch out on my lap with inches to spare. God is growing you, my dear child.
Fix your heart on Jesus. Run to Him. He can hold you better than I. His arms are bigger than mine. He knows exactly what to say and what to do, when sometimes I don’t. Run little one. Run to Jesus.
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