My youngest daughter Cheyenne turns 14 today. Fourteen!!! I am getting old.
I am immensely proud of my daughter, she is an amazing young woman. She has such a heart for people. She seems to profoundly turn the bible into meaningful action, and always from a heart of love and compassion. She is everything I could have ever wanted from a daughter and more.
One of the things I love most about her is her complete disregard for who and what is popular. She is truly an individual. She does not worry about how she will be regarded, she just does what she feels is right. I wish I was more like her.
One of my favorite stories about her, is actually a little painful to recall. We had some friends over for lunch. They brought along their two daughters, who were very close in age to my daughters, and were their best friends. They were playing around, and then started wrestling with my friend. They were all piling on him and he pretended to need help. So I grabbed one of the girls and threw her onto the couch, she jumped up squeeling with laughter, as I grabbed another of the girls and threw her. Next thing you know, they are all lining up to be thrown on the couch, which I was happy to do, over and over again. After quite a few throws, an accident happened. Cheyenne, who must have been around four years old at the time, landed on her arm. By the screams I knew right away it was bad. (I am actually tearing up as I write this) I ran to the couch and looked at her arm, it was obviously broken. I picked her up, and we rushed to the hospital. I was crying, she was crying, mom was crying. I'll tell you walking into the ER with a little girl with a broken arm, cut off dickies shorts, no shirt and a big ganster style tattoo on your stomach, is a sure way to get questioned a lot. But this is the part that describes my amazing little girl. She always ran to mom when she was hurt. Always, even if mom spanked her or yelled at her, she ran to mom for comfort. This time she wanted me to hold her. You see, in all of her pain, she was worried about me, and knew I was feeling bad. She wanted to ensure me that she wasn't mad at me, and loved me. When the doctors drugged her up good, and then questioned her without me being in the room they asked her how she hurt her arm. She said "playing rough with daddy". The asked her if she liked playing rough with daddy, and with a codeine influenced smile, she said "yeah". There were no more questions.
My little girl is growing up. Someday she will find some other man to give her heart to, but for now, I am the man in her life. And what a lucky guy that makes me.
Cheyenne honey, I love you