If I’m honest…
I’m just a little nervous.
Because I hope you love Lydia the way I do.
I hope you see her gentle heart, her quiet strength, and the way she notices the people everyone else seems to miss.
Maybe because I was once her. Maybe not fully, but mostly. Peeling back those layers, bearing the woman I was when I sat on the floor next to a child prone to meltdowns, is frightening. Because I truly cared deeply for each child I worked with, and I carried the patience needed to see beyond their walls. And, I ached win their wins went unnoticed by those who loved them.
I hope you see the woman whose life was impacted by children like Jacob.
Children who didn’t need someone to change them.
Children who simply needed someone willing to slow down long enough to truly see them, and see their value
Lydia will always have a special place in my heart.
Dearest Lydia,
I’m certain you found me long before I found you. Somewhere you were hidden in the smiles and kind gestures I encountered every day.
As you know, my friend, several years ago, I spent my days with children who saw the world a little differently. They taught me to slow down, to celebrate the smallest victories, and to recognize that every child deserves someone who sees their potential before their challenges.
Children like Jacob.
When you walked onto these pages, you loved him exactly the way I hoped someone would love him. Patiently. Fiercely. Without trying to change who he was.
You’ll always hold a special place in my heart. Because you steadfastly championed a child, a child who was misunderstood, because others lacked the ability to understand.
You reminded me that love isn’t measured by grand gestures. Sometimes it’s found in sitting quietly beside someone until they know they’re safe… and seen. Just as you did with Jacob. Just as you showed his daed to do.
Thank you for loving Jacob.
And thank you for reminding me why I wrote this story in the first place.
Love, your friend,
Thank you for letting me share a little piece of my heart with you today.
Tomorrow, there’s at least one more letter to write.
This one might be the hardest of all.
Because it’s for the little boy who quietly stole my heart from the very first page.
I’ll introduce you to Jacob tomorrow.
Until then…
Be kind.
Look a little closer.
And never underestimate the difference one person can make in the life of a child.
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