She looked just like an American Indian baby with spiky jet black hair. If I hadn’t just watched her come out of the birth canal, I might have doubted she was mine. Yet, as the years have progressed, 18 of them today to be exact, she has proven to be exactly my child. With inherited “blond” genetics from her mother and a genuine sweetness straight from her great-grandmother, Alexandra Jae’s traits corroborate her membership in this family.
Stranger: “Hi, what’s your name?”
Alix sticks her thumb in her mouth and looks up at Nick.
Nick: “Her name is Alix.”
Stranger: “How old are you?”
Alix voraciously sucks, still gazing at Nick.
Nick: “She’s 4.”
Alix warmed up to people like a slow cooker. Nick spoke for her, like Aaron for Moses. Quiet natured, Alix is still challenged to find her voice. She slinks into a room and is content to listen rather than speak. With others around who monopolize the conversation, Alix becomes as invisible as Casper the Ghost. Still, when she opens her mouth, she can be as loud as a magpie. With a voice that can carry across the Atlantic, Alix would get shushed often as a child. Her Uncle Steve used to fondly say, “Indoor blood-curdling scream, Alix”—until his child’s voice proved to carry across two oceans. When Alix’ giggles, the whole world hears. Her belly laugh is an ocean wave catching you by surprise, carrying your body with the force of its power.
When I said, “Well, I used to be a race car driver,” all of Alix’ friends oohed and ahhed.
I cracked up, “No, I’m just joking!”
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11