My little Lucy has the biggest heart in the world.

Physically, she's small. Surprisingly so, when you gather up her bony little body and realize just how light she is. Her sisters are hard to cuddle with--too wiggly, too wild. Not Lucy. She can take that little body of hers and curl it up like a cat, into a little ball that nestles right into your arms. Then she breathes a long, comfortable sigh, and melts herself over the top of you and is still. Lucy is nice to take a nap with.

Lucy does not willingly reveal herself to strangers. A sideways glance and a whispered "Hello," are all an unknown person is likely to get (and then, only because Mom or Dad reminds her to be polite.) But once you've made it onto her internal list of trusted friends and associates, you're in. For life.

Lucy has a radiant smile.

Lucy feels everything. Feels it ten times harder than anybody else. You know how some people talk about wearing their heart on their sleeves? Lucy goes around with hers fastened to her fingertips, stretched out where it gets battered and bruised from the tiniest of bumps. So many times I want to tell her to hold back a little. To just chill out. I cringe at the thought of all the pain she's going to go through if she doesn't learn to be  little less intense. Middle school is hard enough for an easy-going kid, right? What will the world do to my sweet, tender, Lucy-girl?

So many times she collapses in tears, and instead of responding with compassion, I snap at her to knock it off. Because I am not nearly as nice as she is.

She might feel sadness more intensely than I do, but I think she also has a better handle on love.

Last week, the girls each had a helium balloon. They took their balloons out into the yard, despite my warnings that this could be a recipe for disaster. And, sure enough, Beth accidentally let hers go. And it floated away and was gone forever and she started to cry.

And Lucy, without a moment's hesitation, let her balloon go too. So Beth would feel better. Her pretty balloon soared off into space, and she didn't care a bit.  She only cared about her sister. Lucy bears all things, believes all thing, hopes all things, and endures all things, if it's for someone she loves.

Lucy is all heart.

You can't see them, because they're not very tall, but Lucy has fixed a plate of Cheerios-and-raisins and a cup of "tea" for an assortment of stuffed animal friends who are seated around the table at her tea party. She will not allow herself to sit down and have any food herself until each of her guests has been served.

Happy birthday, to the sweetest 5-year-old in the world.