I will teach her that as humans, we don’t grow up; rather, we grow old. Our faces crumble and our hearts become full of stories; eyes full of pictures, mouths full of words, ears full of lessons and hurt, but darling (I will say), we will remain the same, soft, shy, innocent souls we always were.

I will tell her that Santa exists. He exists in our hearts and dreams as a figure of love and the spirit of giving. A figure of hope in the impossible. A lesson of belief in something you can’t see or touch. I will teach her that God exists. He exists not only in our hearts and minds but in the world He created, the people around you, and in our utmost human desire to know and understand Him. He exists like gravity, you can’t see him, but he affects you at every waking moment, willing you to stand and fall but get back up, conducting the rhythmic push and pull of the ocean and the push and pull of people in and out of your life. He is your only Father and Mary, your only Mother and I am just a blessed human being with whom He has trusted to share and care for your precious life. So darling, if you ever come to doubt, just look outside, climb a mountain, talk to your grandmother or friend and there he will be.

I will teach her to create. Not for bragging rights or talent, but I will teach her that we create, because we were created. I will show her the beauty she can summon from a brush and paper. The hearts she can bless with a single touch or single word from her mouth. I will teach her the music she can compose with the simple tap of her finger, I will teach her the hearts and minds she can change with the soft movement of her lips. I will teach her to create so that she never ceases to be amazed at her own potential as a child of her Creator. Furthermore, she will learn that nothing, nothing she can create as perfect and as beautiful as her very being that was chosen and created from nothing by God.

I will instill in her a sense of wonder. I will teach her to look up at the stars and wonder at the secrets and truths they hold. I will teach her not to live life full of judgment and expectation but rather with a sense of awe, excitement, innocence and curiosity with her eyes wide and heart open. She will revel in uncertainty and find peace within certainty.

I will hold out her hands to catch the rain and snow and wash them off when, instead, she grasps rocks and fire. I will tell her, darling, your life and experiences will change you, but don’t allow them to reduce you because pain is only momentary but scars, they last forever. But learn this lesson from pain: pain, she doesn’t discriminate. She doesn’t place categories or boxes over the heads of her victims nor does she pick and choose her friends based on who she deems to be worthy or unworthy of her touch. I will teach her that shadows will follow us everywhere, you cannot run from them. But my dear one, I will say, invite them to dance.

I will teach her to pray, to pray unceasingly like the waves that never cease to kiss the shore. I will teach her to pray with every step she takes, every word that comes out of her mouth, every victory won and every defeat she faces because the God who summoned the heavens and the Earth, every sunrise over the mountains and sunset behind the ocean, decided that this world wouldn’t be complete without her very existence. He will carry you through until the end (I will say), so let Him do so. Let Him be with you. Let him listen to your voice, and let yourself listen to His.

I will tell her like my father told me, “Darling, you are the highest apple on the tree; the most beautiful, the most sweet, the most kissed by the sun and don’t settle for the man who refuses to climb and reach for you dear; but only the man who struggles and rises step by step only to sacrifice his own hand to pick you up and stretch you even further into the glorious rays of the sun.”

And if she is hurt by the hands or words of another I will gather her in my arms and tell her, “Let them have a word with your mother.”