Sarah is my fearless one. She was the one walking at 9 months, the first one climbing up the furniture, the earliest one to ride a bike, and the one willing to try out any sport.
She does hard things. She practices piano relentlessly and plays for seminary, ward and sometimes stake events. Soon she'll be playing the organ in Sacrament meeting.
She doesn't care about what people think because she figures if they don't like it "they are stupid." This means that she always tucks her t-shirts into her athletic shorts and wears long wool socks with her tennis shoes even when it makes me cringe.
She eats no sugar, no soda, no juice, no milk. She doesn't eat fast food or potato chips or white bread. I make chocolate cake she drinks a protein shake. I make cookies she eats carrots. She got up every morning of the summer at 6am to run with her friend until they could run six miles at a stretch.
This is not her mother's daughter.
We are all unworthy.
(Sometimes she lets us know that.)
She loves her friends, she loves to try new things, and she loves the gospel.
I love her.
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