"She's like the ocean," I told someone. The surface, as good
as it is, is only a subtle hint of what lies beneath. You may have known her for years and only know the color of her hair which recently changed from light brown (which she insists was dark blonde) to a rich shade of redd-ish. You may know that she likes theater. And if you're her Instagram friend you know she likes selfies and ice cream. But other than that, she's mystery. 
  

She purses her lips together when she smiles and often turns up the corners at appropriate times because she's been taught it's polite to smile. 

She's not so easily amused. She won't throw you a pity laugh when you tell a joke. She'll designate the times you should laugh if you don't catch her sarcasm or the pun she just made. If you make her laugh you'll feel as if you've truly accomplished something. 

  

 
She's kind, but she's her "own kind". If you asked her for half of her sandwich, she might not give it to you. When she was eight, her Sunday school teachers encouraged the kids to give up the points they'd earned (points given for bringing their bible, a friend or offering). The teachers agreed to turn those points into money that would be used for the Lottie Moon missions offering. Most kids gave all their points. Hallie decided to exchange ALL of her points for something else from the Sunday school "Disciple Dollar" store.  

She came home with a paper sack full of plastic snakes. Before I could shame her for such un-Sunday school behavior, she told me she'd bought the snakes for the girls we'd been serving at an orphanage in Africa. She'd given to missions, but she gave "Hallie style" just like she would later in middle school when she raised over two hundred dollars making bandana headbands. She donated the money to the Humane Society in memory of a friend. 

  

 
She's made numerous pro-life posts on her Instagram account, especially when she was in seventh grade. Sometimes the comments on those posts were full of opposition, occasionally from people she didn't know.  She never argued or gave in. She simply continued to make posts defending the unborn. 

As a teenage girl, she's never needed a posse. She's fiercely independent. Neither insults nor flattery make much difference in the way she views herself. When she was in first grade a girl told her she didn't like her.  She replied, in her monotone voice (I'm sure), "What do you want me to do about it?"  If there were an arm wrestling match that showed inner strength, and we battled, she would beat me. 

  

Her hugs mean something. She doesn't hug you just because... Her "I love yous" aren't said in ritual. She asks me every now and then to drive around with her. That "driving around" is like truth serum and she shares her heart. When she asks to "make a few more blocks" I never say no because we've learned to create a special time that will go down in my book of memories. 

  

She won't get a hot pan out of the oven but if we were stranded without medical help and I needed surgery I'm sure she'd perform it. When she was tiny I let her use tweezers to try to get a splinter out of my foot. I pretended to be in severe pain. She was unmoved, focused on her task. 

At four she picked up a chicken snake and carried it around, urging our friend who screamed in terror to give her fears to God. She's saved chickens from a pesky dog, catching them and throwing them over a fence. She's bold like the coffee her dad drinks. 

  

She's all this and yet she continues to surprise me at the corners of life with some new unexpected characteristic. Thanking God for fifteen years with her and looking forward to more years and more surprises...and more driving around. Before long it'll be her behind the wheel, but I bet she'll be able to handle it. 

Happy 15th birthday Hallie. I love you (and I mean it).