Tuesday, October 3, 2017

The Agony of a Musician, Manager and Promoter

Where were you on October 1st, 2017 at about 10pm PST?  Most of us were probably in bed, especially those on the east coast.  The evening news had all but wrapped up for most of the country with the left coast news about ready to hit the airwaves, if not already on.  Me, I was in bed.  The quiet confines of my house in a relatively quiet little city.  My phone chimed with a news alert.  Not typically inclined to go down the rabbit hole of news at this time of night, I quickly looked at the headline and nearly put down my phone.  Then another news notification.  I again, looked at the headline.  My interest was piqued.  I went and read a story.  I then hopped over to Twitter to see what was being said.  No sooner did I see one post, there was another...and another...and another...with videos.  In my moments of trying to go to sleep I was lying there, shocked by the videos and twitter posts.  I was watching and reading of another moment in my life I will never forget where I was.  I was going to bed the night the lives of thousands at a concert in Las Vegas had changed forever.  A music festival was now the sight of terror, filled with horror and mass chaos.  Wow!  I had now words.

I woke this morning immediately checking my phone for the latest news.  More videos, more stories and more questions.  I got to work, opened my computer, and watched the news for just a few minutes.  The words to describe what I saw and heard are many, and yet not enough.  My shock and disbelief turned to anger.  I was enraged that someone could be so heartless.  Angry that a single person held so much hate in their hearts.  I found myself in a pretty bad spot.  The spot between shock and anger with hints of hate.  That wasn't me.  So I turned my thoughts to the artists, the stagehands, the roadies, first responders and officers.  That is me.  I'm a member of this industry.  My wife is a first responder.  My son has dreams to play baseball and do music.  My daughter has dreams to be a photographer, which she hopes places her at these types of events.  In short, this is my family now and in the future!  Now how do I respond?

What are my friends who perform nightly thinking now?  Every single night they get on stage, entertain people, sing their hearts out for those in attendance and then stay well after they're off stage talking to anyone wanting an autograph/picture/t-shirt.  These are the nicest people you'll ever meet.  They sacrifice family time phone calls, dinners and sleep just to make someones day special.  But now...now what will they do?  Will they stay late?  Will they be afraid to step on stage?

I'm a promoter with promoter friends.  They do this all the time.  They open the doors to venues so people can attend a concert with their favorite artists.  From before set up to well after the bands load up and move on the the next show, your promoter works nonstop to make sure those in attendance are safe, relaxed and having fun.  They work to ensure the artists are well hydrated, fed and filled with coffee/energy drink/water, and relaxed so they can entertain every one that walks through the door that night.  This great group of folks will walk the facility to make sure doors are closed that should be, artist only areas are roped off as needed, security is in place, merch people are ready to sell, and so on.  Every last detail falls on their shoulders and not a single thing goes on without their permission.  There will be glitches on the night of the show, unhappy people attending a concert their favorite artist had to back out of at the last minute, people mad because there was not enough pop at the concession stand or something; but these folks - promoters know that with a little compassion, understanding and quick thinking, the unhappy and disappointed will soon be thankful for attending the event.  Your promoter is a friend to all.  But now...how do they move on to the next concert?  Could the concert they promote be the next Las Vegas?

Over the years I've worked with some great managers.  They work for the artist and the best interest of the team.  They attend weddings, graduations, a child's 1st birthday party, album release parties and more.  When bands first start out and can't pay a manager, these people will still work because they want to see the reward they know their band/artist will get with performing for fans.  Large or small, they don't care about the popularity or pay (though the pay can be wonderful), they too get excited to see the fans singing along at concerts even though they may be at home while the concert is hundreds of miles away.  They know the heartbreak their artists go through when away from home, how hard it is to miss a child's birthday, an anniversary date or the daughters first softball game.  But, they also get to experience the sound of relief/ecitement from their artist when family homes are spared during a tornado, their mom beats breast cancer and their sibling gets married.  But now...how do they assure their artist the summer festival tour will be safe?  That the arena will have adequate security?  More importantly, how do they prepare their artist to safely leave a stage when something goes wrong?

I certainly don't have the answers to the questions I've asked.  My heart hurts for those who lost loved ones.  I know people that live in Las Vegas that are asking these very questions and more.  I am pretty sure I knew someone that knew someone in attendance Sunday night.  A friend from years gone by was suppose to be working the concert but circumstances kept him home.  My heart is in pain for the survivors.  I asked my wife, if in attendance, would she have been running back into harms way to save others.  I knew the answer, but I had to hear it from her.  "Yes!"  And I was thankful to hear that from her.  But at the same time, it scares me.  Scares me to know that at any given moment, that here in Cheyenne, a concert that my friends and I are promoting or attending could be the next spot this happens.  I could be on vacation attending a festival, just like those in Las Vegas, and I could be helping my wife help others escape terror.  But fear is not something I will let win.

My family, friends and partners in the music industry can't see fear as winning.  If I can be a person of hope for them, then I'm ready.  As Paul wrote in Philippians 3 regarding him having no confidence in the flesh, I too strive to have confidence in Christ instead of flesh.  Then, in Philippians 4 he tells us to rejoice!  Wait a second!  I can't rejoice in this terror.  True, I'm not, but I am rejoicing in seeing neighbor helping neighbor.  I rejoice that stranger has helped stranger, celebrity musicians pulling people to safety, a school teacher helping the elderly and so on.  That is something that no race, creed or affiliation can deny - people helping people.  I'm choosing to not be anxious about this.  I'm choosing to follow Paul's plea in Philippians 4:8 and dwell on the pure, noble, lovely and admirable.  I know it won't be easy.  I know that Las Vegas will change the way the music industry practices many things.  But...

Fear, you suck.  Terror, you're horrible.  Cowards, you have no place in this world.  As I type this, the tears are running.  In my world, my partners and I choose to tell these three things, "Screw you!"  We will continue to offer hope to a lost world.  We will continue to support our friends as they travel across the world sharing hope.  We will provide a place for artists to come, turn up the volume and rock our world.  Why?  Because, that's what we are called to do.  That's what the scared child in all of us is begging us to do.  It's what the world needs us to do.  It's what God has asked us to do.  It may cost us a ton, including everything (again, more words from Paul), but I know I'm not alone in this.  Thankfully, I have a pretty large music industry family that has my back all while I have theirs.

From me, and on behalf of my friends and family in the industry, I bid fear, terror, regret and anxiousness a fond farewell.  We are better because of these last few days.  We are stronger because of you.  And most importantly, we know you will never win because we know the God who is kicking you square in the teeth and taking your name.

Tuesday, September 26, 2017

The Foods You Love and The Work You Do

Your childhood is formed in your surroundings.  You don't know what the big city lights hold when living in a rural area.  Nor do you know the great independence county living holds when you grow up in the burbs of a large metropolis.  Once in a while you get to experience a little of the other on family vacations.  Those excursions are awesome!  Lifetime memories.  Then, you reach your teen years, gain some freedom and can determine which surrounding you desire.  Great times are made with friends and family.  Soon, you're ready to venture out on your own full time.  City life suits you so you stay near your suburb home you grew up in.  Maybe you are just sick of the small town feel and you have to experience the bright lights of a city that rarely sleeps.  Of course, if you're like me, the big city is fun, but you want to escape to open spaces.  You need room so you head for the hills and find the least populated city you can think of, even if it is the state you grew up.  Some familiarity but away from it all.  I get it, and I don't blame anyone for choosing your home surroundings once adulthood sets in.  But, this post isn't about physical surroundings of growing up.  Rather, it is what you grow up consuming for nourishment.  No, it's not a normal food discussion either.  So, buckle up for the adventure of the food you may love and how it just might become something you will soon become nauseous at the thought of consuming it.

I grew up in a small town north of Seattle.  That town was famous for farms and strawberries.  We celebrated the greatness of strawberries by eating them nearly year round.  But the best ones were always fresh from the fields just south and north of town.  It seemed all of my friends had a summer job picking strawberries once they graduated elementary school (5th grade there).  Outside of not having a few extra bucks, I'm kinda thankful I never held that job.  Not that I didn't like work, especially since I usually did random yard work for my moms boss.  It's because I also had a job come up at home that seemed as if it lasted months.  It was a job that I'm thankful for, where my brother and I learned a lot of life skills.  However, it is safe to say that neither of us have the appreciation of the fruits of this particular job provided.  And because of living in a town painted in strawberries, and learning the intricacies of all things apples, I have stories to tell and certain foods that cause trembling upon the thought of consuming.

Let's begin with the plantation I spent my high school days living on.  Yes, just north of Seattle and in what was almost the exact middle of town, there was a plantation.  It wasn't a big one, but there were a lot of apple trees.  And a lot of pear trees.  Crab apple trees were in the mix too.  The first year we lived there we soon learned those trees produced...a lot.  I don't know that the local Safeway store could keep up with our stock.  We couldn't give enough of these delicious gems away.  Bags upon bags of each lined our kitchen.  That isn't including what was lost on the ground.  What we couldn't give away, we used. Everything we ate consisted of pears or apples.  Fried, raw, chopped, stirred in, smashed and more.  Main dish, side dish or desert, breakfast, lunch, dinner or snack.  There was no wrong way or bad time to consume an apple or pear.  My parents (mainly my dad) went as far as to go get an apple press to aid in making applesauce.  We had pancakes with chopped apples topped with applesauce.  There were fried and candied pears to top the ice cream.  Apple crisp, applesauce on port chops and just about any combination you could think of.  We even made applesauce to give to friends.  If we weren't giving it to them, we had them over to help us consume the stuff.  Even after I moved out of the house, I had to deal with apples (the house I moved to had just as many apples that I was dumb enough to take to my parents if I didn't sell them or give them away).

Fast forward to strawberries and the annual Strawberry Festival.  An annual week long event that we attended parts of.  Go Kart rides/races, a parade, carnival, bed races and more.  The festival was punctuated by strawberry shortcake.  Growing up I loved everything the festival held.  Then I volunteered for a few years as an adult.  It was great learning how to organize a small portion of the festival.  I made great friends for that part of my life.  I was able to share that time with family, and even saw my brother and father get involved.  It was awesome!  Then, in the middle of another dreary and drizzly Seattle day, I decided to help the Festival Strawberry Shortcake booth.  I gladly accepted a free shortcake to help promote the food we were celebrating.  Then I had another bowl of goodness...and another...and another...By the time 11am rolled around (about 3 hours after the 1st bowl of shortcake) I had consumed at least 6 bowls of fresh strawberry shortcake.  That was Friday.  I can't confirm I had more that afternoon.  I don't remember much about Saturday (except the lightning, canceling the parade, and telling someone that standing under a metal water tower would not help protect them in a lightning storm), but I'm pretty sure I did have more shortcake.

What does all this nonsense  mean?  Why am I writing about it?  Will it make a difference for you and your life?  Outside of a few chuckles, it probably won't impact you much at all.  This may be more therapeutic than anything.  BUT, it's also to give you a little background into my life.

I know how to harvest apples (and "accidentally" miss the bag to hit your dad on the head).  I've learned to eat what is available, even if it is just slightly different than the meal before.  I know how to make different things from one simple fruit.  Yes, a simple apple can teach you all that and more if you give it a chance.  It can also teach you how to come together as a family, how to be generous, be a good host, and most importantly, how to make the most of every situation.  Better stated - it gave me the ultimate knowledge that I have to choose my attitude.  Yup, a simple apple taught me all that.

The strawberry gave me just as much knowledge.  It taught me how to help friends and strangers.  It gave me limited organizational skills (I'm still learning this).  I learned how to make sure electric cords weren't strung through puddles, how to keep people safe at all times, notice the small things affecting my surroundings and to appreciate a free meal (or seven) even when it is the same as the last.  I saw families be a family for one week a year.  I saw how to run a festival and how to work with the masses to make something special.  It provided great life lessons.  Yes, a small red fruit gave me a lifetime of memories and lessons, just different enough to add to all I learned from an apple.

I may loathe applesauce now.  I may shudder at the thought of eating strawberry shortcake.  I may never volunteer to taste your beautiful looking and probably great apple or strawberry pie, but I will admire your work.  Sure, a fresh apple is great, but I have to dip it in caramel sauce in order to get it down without choking it down.  Yes, I'll have some strawberry shortcake, but it will only be once a year, twice if you're lucky.  If I have to have toast with strawberry jam, rest assured I asked for something else first.  I'll still eat apple crisp, but I hope there is some vanilla ice cream to top it with.  I love these great fruits.  I just have a hard time looking at them without bringing up some wonderful and sometimes dark memories.

As I discussed this very thing with my brother, these are some very dark roads for me.  But, I can't be who I am without these roads in life.  I am appreciative of what these two (three if you add the pears) fruits taught me.  I kinda miss not having those apple trees to help my two children learn what I've learned.  Okay, I really don't miss the trees or mass amounts of applesauce, but I do miss everything that went into the products of that small plantation I called home for many year.

Saturday, July 29, 2017

Mirror Imaging in Music

Music is an integral part of my life.  Yes, I'm sure I've said it before, so that line might sound like a broken record.  Yet, I think it important to confirm.  From a pure entertainment standpoint to a part of my professional life, music is something I don't think I'll ever escape from its clutches.  Not that I currently want to, nor foresee me wanting to, but just in case the desire arises, it just isn't going to happen.

Music was an escape for me while I was growing up.  I would sit in my room blaring music loud enough to drive my parents crazy.  Despite the loud obnoxious sound emanating from my stereo, my parents would only encourage me to turn down the sound.  Never were there discouraging words towards my music.  In fact, they encouraged me to discover my likes, my passions, my dislikes and even somehow supported my "rebellion" through the music.  My brother wrote about being an outcast in his youth group, mostly because of music.  Sadly, I think I set that musical outcast precedence due to my musical tastes that gave me the "rebellious" label.  I listened to Stryper, Petra, Bloodgood and the even harder stuff.  I listened to P.I.D., Gospel Gangstaz and E.T.W, as well as other rap groups of early Christian Hip/Hop movement.  It was this rebellion in music that has put me where I am today.

I'm deeply involved in various music ventures.  I'm a part of a group of rag tag guys and gals that promote concerts in Cheyenne.  Yeah, even here, with this group of great individuals, my rebellious musical tastes show since we promote non typical Christian music.  I'm a manager/booking agent.  I freelance write, and soon I'll be co-hosting a podcast.  Music is a part of me.  More than all of the above, I'm also excited to see what my son creates in his musical endeavors.  Yes, even he is writing music, produced a video and enjoys just singing along with his Pandora stations.  



Lastly, my daughter enjoys listening to music.  Her musical tastes aren't large, but she is my rocker chick.  She'll go with me to any concert, anywhere, on any given moments notice.  

Music is becoming a reflection of not just myself, but also my family.  We continually seek something fresh, something new, something that we can enjoy and seek the much needed escape it can be.  My Facebook page cover photo states, "Music is my drug cause it heals my scars."  That statement is so true.  I find healing, comfort and yes, even God in the music I select (it doesn't have to be Christian music for me to see God).

Today, I have found that refreshing music.  Something new, something fresh.  It was what I needed.  I find that this finding is reflective of what I need as a person, and we as people often seek.  New, refreshing and entertaining.  We want a renewal when work becomes too burdensome.  Some of us seek new on a daily basis, a quest for adrenaline.  All of us want to be entertained to help us forget the hardships of the day.  So, what I thought was just a simple refreshing new album also provided a chance to refresh and reflect on how my music desires and tastes are actually a reflection of life as a whole.

Tuesday, July 18, 2017

A Mess of Thoughts with a Bad Memory

Do you ever have those days where every thought you want to put pen to paper, yet you don't do it that very second?  You know you will remember that thought later in the day and you'll write it down then.  No?  Just me?  Fine.  Must be my age.  Man, I had hoped I wasn't alone, but maybe I am.

Of course, I follow a guy on Facebook that brought this subject up earlier today.  Even the great Bob Beeman (Sanctuary International) admits that his memory doesn't remember the things he wants to write down later.  So, I'm learning to listen to those I respect and admire.  If he says he doesn't remember what he needs to write down, then I trust that he speaks with an intimate knowledge of a failing memory of certain things.  I should take heed.

So, I'm going to try and do something that may cause others to wonder about me.  They will question why I'm just randomly speaking into my phone.  It will probably put me into the, "certifiably crazy," category.  Not that this classification would be new to me, but solidifying that status would be great.  What is it I'm going to do?  Easy, I'm going to download a recording app on my phone that will allow me to record my thoughts.  This should allow me to remember what I need/want to write down when the opportunity presents.

I share this with you for transparency.  I'm not perfect, and my memory is even worse.  I have had a lot I've wanted to share, but due to not writing it down at the time of the thought, I haven't shared.  So, I'm going to teach myself a lesson.  Record it and then I shouldn't have an excuse.  Key word, shouldn't.  Also, I share to provide you with a fair warning.  I'm going to be writing more.  Hopefully a lot more.

The more writing starts tonight.  For the next couple of weeks I'll be sharing with you at least every third day.  My desire is for that to be therapeutic for myself.  With any luck, I hope it will be therapeutic for some of you as well.  Do I know what I'll be writing, sharing or discussing?  NOPE!  Not at all.  But, I will share.

That's all for tonight.  On the bright side, I at least remembered to share about my failing memory.

Monday, May 22, 2017

Ariana And Manchester

Our world has been shook one more time.  It's a story that seems to be repeating itself.  Large gathering, bomb(s) explode, injury and death following.  It never gets easier to see, more painful to listen to and enrages even more.  This time, Manchester, UK.  Another concert, this one just happened to be a pop singer - Ariana Grande.

As a person that can't comprehend this atrocity, upon learning of the bombing I wanted to know.  I needed to know as many details possible to learn about the scene unfolding.  In today's world, it's what most people do, turn on the news.  I'm gripped by the scenes on my computer (I stream everything - no cable).  More importantly, I'm broken by the thought of children being the target of this recent attack.

Initially, the dad in me kicks in.  How could...better yet, what kind of coward would attack kids.  I don't care if it was a 21 year old attending the concert with their mother, a 14 year old attending their first concert alone, or the 7 year old celebrating a birthday at a concert with their friends.  These are kids, a future ahead of them brighter than whatever kind of pathetic life this person ever lived.  I was enraged.  Coward was the nicest name I could think of in describing this person(s).  The anger and hurt vied for leading emotion in my head and heart.  Justice being served in death for whomever did this started as a rally cry in my mind.  Then, rational thought began to take over, especially in light the guilty was apparently dead.  Yet, it was this rational thinking consuming me and truly breaking my heart.

Yes, the loss of 19 lives is devastating.  More than 50 injured is senseless as well.  Despite this, my response was understandable as a dad.  But, as a person professing christianity, I'm not sure it was the right response.

See, as I understand it, we should mourn the loss of life.  All life.  Every single person that passes over to the other side is meeting their eternal fate.  And it is there that we who believe are to be concerned.  Where are they spending their lives eternally.  All life, all people, coward or not, innocent child, parent or grandparent and everyone in between.  Gone.  And I was more concerned about retribution.

Wow!  I failed.  But, God brought me back around.  My heart aches for Ariana.  I'm pretty sure there is a level of guilt she feels.  She shouldn't, but she will.  I can't imagine my child missing, the feeling of not knowing where they are, if they are anywhere.  Yet, there are parents lost without their child by their side.  They probably feel guilt as well.  Sadly, they will probably feel that guild the rest of their lives.  My heart breaks for those parents.  There are children in a hotel room with strangers caring for them.  They are being cared for, but it's not their parents.  I'm pretty sure they couldn't sleep or eat, and certainly are scared.  Tears are welling in my eyes when I think about these poor children.  Life isn't fair to begin with, and then going through something like this is beyond comprehension.

Then, there is the perpetrator.  My human self is glad.  My faith led mind and heart breaks for this individual as well.  I'm not inclined to believe they are in heaven tonight.  Sure, they could be, and I won't say definitively it's impossible.  They had a family as well.  Their family will never see their son/daughter/husband/wife ever again, just as the victims families will never see their child/parent/spouse.

But, what is more troubling to me is the response of other christians.  Sure, they'll post on social media, text their friends and call their prayer chains about praying for Manchester.  Yet, they will just as quickly show their anger towards terrorism (which they should) and how we need to eliminate every radical muslim.  They'll share how no reasonable parent should take their 6 year old girl to see someone who said they hate Americans.  They'll judge Ariana as not being a great role model for girls today.  Just remember, pray for the victims.  The double standard will be set and reached in a matter of minutes.

This double standard is what truly disgusts me.  I reiterate, every life matters.  The coward, the young and old.  Every single one.  Terrorist, peace maker, believer or not, they matter.  A fact that many christians conveniently forget when it comes to things like this.  Maybe, just maybe, one day we'll learn.

My thoughts and prayers go out to everyone involved in the Manchester tragedy.

Sunday, April 16, 2017

Easter Paradox

Easter!!!  Another chance to celebrate a holiday.  Another day many of us expect to spend with family, sharing laughs over another gluttonous spread of food.  Some will partake in the regular attendance of a worship service, while others will attend one of their mandatory two services at a random church.  Kids will hunt for baskets of gifts at home, then turn around and fill those very baskets with eggs found in a hunt at Grandma and Grandpa's house.  Yes, Easter is filled with celebration aplenty.

Today as I traveled the streets of Cheyenne, I couldn't help but think about the double standard we have set in America.  Yes, I know.   You're probably tired of hearing about a so called double standard.  All of us are bombarded by media (both right and left) pointing out a double standard in things.  But, it hit me today that Easter is a paradox of holiday standards our society has set.

Name a holiday that is considered mostly sacred where the expectation is to relax and gather as a family.  You guessed correctly.  Thanksgiving and Christmas.  Everyone is entitled to gather with family and relax on those two holidays.  We as an American culture demand the time off to relax, enjoy the time away from everything related to work and fill our stomachs to our hearts content.  If we find ourselves scheduled to work, our inclination is to raise hell to our bosses claiming an unfairness not found in other countries.  We then look for any and every other profession that gets the day off and demand equal treatment.  And if you are afforded these holidays off, you look for those professions that do open on these holidays so you can protest, complain and yell of injustices of those businesses by not being fair to their employees.  Example: go back to Thanksgiving 2015 and how appalled the masses were when they found out Target, Kohl's and WalMart were going to be open Thanksgiving evening.  Or how shocked you were to find out the movie theater was going to open Christmas evening.  Be honest with yourself, you and the masses were outraged over these outlandish events with many an hour spent yearning for yesteryear.

Well, where is the outrage today?  Why are we silent about companies being open on Easter?  Why are we not calling for unity to boycott the businesses open on Easter?  Well?  Where?  Yeah, that's what I thought.  It's not something anyone wants to spend time on.  Or is it the fact that if falls on a Sunday anyway, and most people have Sunday's off?  Maybe it's because we want to gather as a family at a buffet for Easter Brunch and if places aren't open, then how do we do that?  See the paradox now?

See, we as a society are all about convenience.  It is convenient for us to protest about something one minute, yet not lift a finger the other because if we did we'd lose some of our precious traditions.  Whats worse is that the very ones who don't complain about places being open on Easter are the ones that should be relaxing and celebrating more than most, and that those claiming to be christians celebrating the sacred holiday.

OUCH!!!  I bet I just struck a nerve with many of you.  Yeah, you the pastor, the Sunday School teacher, the board member.  You are the ones that rightfully find disdain for companies open on Thanksgiving and Christmas yet expect your favorite dining establishment be open for you after a long day at work (because Sunday is just another day of work, right).  Sure, you proclaim the triumph Christ has over sin and death, but then are disappointed when Target isn't open so you can get those Easter gifts for your kids at prices discounted enough to help make sales for the holiday.

Don't worry, I'm guilty too.  I made a quick run to the office supply store to get some things printed.  My wife ran to the neighborhood grocery store to get food for the work week.  But, here's where my thinking lies.  I didn't raise Cain about people working on Thanksgiving or Christmas.  I'm not inclined to hold one holiday in higher regard than the other.  I truly believe that these days are just the same as the next.  Sure, I enjoy the time spent relaxing and sharing a meal with family as much as the next person.  However, why should I do that on days that society tells me I should be doing it?  If I believe what is in my Bible, then shouldn't I celebrate Christ's victory over death and sin every day, holiday or not?  People in many professions don't have the option to have every holiday off, but they don't complain, and live these days just as the next - believer or not.  And, if they can do it, then so can I.  And if I can do it, then so can you.

So, explain to me again.  Why isn't anyone upset that WalMart, TacoBell and Office Depot were open today, Easter Sunday?

Monday, April 10, 2017

Beautiful Daughter

Dear Beautiful Daughter,

The moment I laid eyes on you was the moment you had me wrapped around your little finger.  You knew my voice, but you were meeting me for the first time.  Your cry excited me knowing that I was going to hold you very soon.  That cry also scared me as I knew the world would soon come knocking.  But, at that moment nothing else mattered than hearing you cry, seeing your mom cry in joy, and knowing that you were mine.

As you grew you continued to have me wrapped around your little finger.  You would fall asleep on my chest, your eyes twinkled every time you looked in mine, and you would hold my hand every time we walked through the mall.  But it wasn't just me that you had wrapped around your little finger.  NO!  Your grandparents, those who baby sat you, your teachers...every one you came into contact with you stole their heart.

Why did you steal my heart?  Because you were you.  To this day you have no fear of people.  There is no person you won't talk to.  There isn't a friend you have never met.  This "no stranger" attitude has given you a beautiful soul.  So many wish they could talk to people the way you do.  So many wish they had the energy you do.  Sure, some will joke about you having too much energy, but in reality, one can never have too much energy.  And that energy is beautiful.  The fact you talk to everyone is scary at times, but it shows a love for them no matter what.  That love is beautiful.

Truth be told, you could be quiet every second of the day, and that would be beautiful.  You could love to read, ride dirt bikes, bake to your hearts content or do anything else, and you would have stolen our hearts.  You are me, and yet you are your own person.  That, the person you are is enough for me to have my heart stolen by you.

As you've grown, words are harder to find, emotions aren't as easy to share.  The laughs are still there, but sometimes not as hearty.  It's okay, it's a part of life.  However, I need you to know, you're still beautiful.

I still need you to know how precious you are, no matter the age.  I need you to know you still have me wrapped around your little finger.  I need you to know that the only opinion of you that matters is my opinion of you, you mothers opinion of you, and most importantly God's opinion of you.  I need you to know that wherever life leads you, I still love you.  All these words to express and yet I can't say enough.

Dear Beautiful Daughter, read these words as often as you need.  They will never change.  Their meaning will never be any different.  And, no matter what the world tells you, please know that you are my Beautiful Daughter.