Fourteen years ago a brilliant idea was born. She was Your idea - it was very obvious from the start that she was. She had all Your creativity - she had Your patience and constancy - and she shared Your heart. I wanted to thank You for that.
Thank You for the summers spent galloping Breyer horses in the backyard clover - for the long games of stuffed animals living in the autumn decorations - for the afternoons holed away between our bunk beds, creating a Littlest Pet Shop world where she always had the best made-up voices.
Thank You for the drifting-away-at-midnight bedtimes when Grimms' Fairy Tales got a twist that would put them to shame. Thank You for all the doodles she drew on thank you cards and the always-certain crafty something she made for birthdays. Her wallet was always empty because her heart was always full.
Thank You for the times in the darkness when she heard me crying and asked me what's wrong. The times when my world fell apart and I cried ugly, and she was the only one who would dare put her arms around me and love me despite my faults. The times when I put my head on her shoulder and asked if I was pretty or friendly or good enough, and she said a ridiculously off-topic and unhelpful reply that ended up the most helpful thing in the world.
You have beautiful ideas, Father God, but I think the best one of all was her.