Robin (all grown up) with daughter Haley

She entered our lives one memorable day as the most
lovely, precious, soft little bundle that ever we could have
imagined should be donned in pink. She was the fruit of
the most gracious endowment of the Spirit's bountiful
supply that coursed a full thirteen months of sufferings
only a mother could begin to know.

When her entrance time had finally come, she was
there in full blossom, as tender as a tea rose in cautious
spring, and with an attractive delicacy befitting the example
so observable in the sober cheerfulness of a mother
robin bouncing in the early morning meadows of delight.

Year upon year with her in our home has been sheer multiples of delight. She has extracted hope and stability from wihtin us when it seemed they couldn't exist; her happy presence dismisses the oft mental torments of life as though they were but autumnal leaves adrift in the breeze. She has tilled those parts in us that seemed frozen forever, and her harvest of life will surely be most fruitful.

Our deepest groanings in prayer on her behalf are but a second travail that she may become metabolized with the ingredients of the living Word, a mature specimen of normalcy known only by those blissful and blessed few who choose, and who are chosen, to partake of a Spirit-soaked, Christ-saturated sojourn, as they tread the straightened paths of God's economy.