If right at this moment someone asked me my greatest wish, it would be to get inside of her little mind and see what she's been pondering about.
At 11 months, she takes in the world with wonder, silence, stares, and caution. She's not the type to fling herself at new people or new experiences with wild abandon, but instead prefers to watch and tiptoe her way into the world. When she is crawling and meets a new surface, she taps on it for a little while before proceeding. As she takes bites from an unrecognizable food, she holds it in her fingers and nibbles it before letting the whole piece in. When she picks up something and hears a "No", she practically flings it across the room and then wants a hug. Gentle, dainty, and quiet.
"God calls you his workmanship, his poiema. What happens when God write poetry?
We do. We happen.
We are walking poetry, the kind that moves, the kind who has hands and feet,
the kind with mind and will and emotion.
We are what happens when God expresses himself."
My precious almost one year old was created first as a poem to display the glory of God. And He does it through everyone else by their diverse personalities in a million little ways. I feel blessed to see His glory through her personality so untainted and pure. Full of wonder, slow speed and observation. She is His perfect poem when she is completely herself. So be shy Nora, stay cautious, and continue letting people know when you've "had enough" of being held. Cause that's you.