From the moment she was born, I knew there was something distinctive about her. It could have been the way she cried, much higher pitched than we were used to from her older brother. “It’s definitely a girl!” I chuckled, before seeing her. As she was placed in my arms, Nathan and I were both surprised to see a thick mop of jet-black hair atop her tiny head. So unexpected! Our first born, not quite two years old at the time was fair complected, and what little hair he had was almost white. I reassured my husband, “I promise, you’re the father, Honey!”
All the nurses told us how uniquely beautiful Ella was. These weren’t just obligatory compliments. Nathan chose her name specifically for this reason, “Of course, our daughter will be beautiful. We have to name her Ella.” As she grew, her dad and I paid special attention to her beauty on the inside as being the most important.
Ella leads a cheer clinic at the elementary school.
Before each of my children were born, I felt impressed by the Holy Spirit to pray a specific prayer over each of them. For my daughter, it was that she would be an encouragement to others. God has answered that prayer in so many special ways. It is no coincidence that I have received comments from teachers, coaches, and other parents about the genuine kindness and support she extends to others. Today, she is an excellent coach and mentor.
Some of my favorite attributes about her developed at a very young age. I remember walking into our living room one day. In typical fashion, it was sprinkled with toddler-toys, stuffed animals, a few sippy cups and some cartoons playing in the background. We had two children at the time, and Ella was about 18 months old. I quickly assessed that the toys were being put into little piles, based on color. The only people home were me, my 3-year-old son, and Ella. Before I could even voice a question, I watched little Ella toddle over to the toy box, pick out a red shaped block and then I saw her decipher which pile it needed to be delivered to. She proudly placed it with the other red toys. I was shocked! Her knack for organization only increased as she grew. I remember once finding a spreadsheet she made about all the activities and goals planned for her upcoming summer vacation. She was in 3nd grade. Ella made lists for school supplies, shopping trips or workout plans. In elementary school, she made a chart with what outfits she would wear everyday. And then there was the list of “what to wear” for her very first deer hunting trip, complete with checkboxes. And the night before, I found a nice, neat pile with her hunting clothes, boots, license and even a camouflage hair bow. This girl likes to be prepared!
Hayward Conference Meet 2021, 8 feet.
From the time she was learning to move, she was a go-getter. The Disney film, The Incredibles came out the year she was born, and it was a favorite. When Ella was just two, she would try to emulate Elastagirl, the dexterous superheroine who could stretch any part of her body to great lengths, and mold it into several shapes and sizes. One night, after watching the movie, I caught Ella at the top of our full flight of carpeted stairs. “Mommy! Wook at me!” She said excitedly. Then, as if in slow motion, she leapt off the top stairs, believing with all her heart she could fly. Within the same second, I too tried to channel my inner superhero powers and leapt into action, hoping to save my baby daughter from breaking her neck as she tumbled like a rag doll down a full flight of stairs. “Ella! No!” I wasn’t quite fast enough and stopped her at the second to last step. She burst into a moment of panic- no tears, no sound. Just a sharp inhale of air and then holding her breath for a near eternity. After her face turned blue, and she was about to pass out, Ella would let out the scream, tears and crying. I comforted her as a mother should. First with the assessment. “Any broken bones?” No, thank goodness. Then, cuddles, cooing, kisses, and lots of gentle hugs. Later, when she was all calm and quiet, I called my mother-in-law and told her about it. “Well, the good news is, she’ll never do that again!”
That’s where we were wrong. Ella doesn’t give up. She never sat still. In fact, literally every single night at the dinner table, I had to tell her, “Please sit down in your chair.” She was always jumping, dancing, flipping, tumbling, and trying to fly. Which is why, at the age of about 3 we put her in a little tumbling class with Coach Cassie. I thought to myself, “If Ella is going to flip and tumble, at least she can learn how to fall safely and not get hurt.”
Little did I know, this would lead to a passion, (might I say, obsession), and lifestyle of gymnastics, dance and eventually, coaching for Ella. She hasn’t stopped. Ella has competed at the State and Regional level in both gymnastics and high school dance team. She has coached gymnasts and dancers in both club and school. She is seen as a mentor and beloved coach. And today, she is a teacher’s assistant to our elementary physical education teacher. The kids adore “Coachella.” Yes, it’s one word.
“Coachella” with one of her students
Through her sports of gymnastics, dance, track and field, and weightlifting, Ella has become strong in body, mind, and character. Of course, we focus on her character as being the most important. Man may look at the outward appearance, but God looks at the heart. And her heart is what I am most grateful for- especially during times of adversity.
When news hit that her brothers were diagnosed with cystic fibrosis, we took Ella aside for some special alone time to explain what was happening. She was nine years old at the time. As realization sunk in, she cried. “I just want them to be able to get married and have a family of their own someday.” The compassion and maturity she displayed was incredible!
It only continued from there as Ella determined she wasn’t going to sit idly by. As she watched my involvement in the CF Foundation and fundraising efforts for a cure, she approached me with her own ideas. “Mom, I want to do a research paper on CF.” Her other 4th grade friends were doing their school projects on butterflies and Laura Ingalls Wilder. My daughter wanted to research and learn about the life-threatening disease that her brothers had so she could raise awareness and teach others.
“Mom, I want to participate in a 50-story stair climb to raise money for a cure.” I hesitated in letting her. She was only 9. Could she physically do such a feat? Of course, Ella couldn’t wait to prove herself. And she raised $2,000 in the process!
Ella, in Washington D.C., on her way to meet with lawmakers.
“Mom, I want to go to Washington D.C. and speak to Lawmakers about cystic fibrosis.” I remember giving her a pep talk before her very first meeting with a State Representative. She texted me on her phone, “Mom, I can’t do this!” I looked up at her. She was sitting right beside me. I quickly I texted back, “You are just like Esther in the Bible. You have been called to speak for such a time as this. Ask God to help you.” And so, she did. For four years now she has been the Teen Advocate for the State of Wisconsin, advocating for the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation. God has called her, and she has answered.
Ella is courageous, hysterically funny, determined, maybe a little strong-willed, but oh so fun to be around. Sure, we butt heads sometimes. However, I can’t think of a greater joy than being able to call her my daughter. As she nears adulthood, graduation, and the transition to college, my heart swells with joy and gratitude. THIS is what we’ve been waiting for! THIS is what all those prayers and hugs, stories at bedtime, gymnastics lessons, reminders of manners, long nights of studying, eating vegetables, memorizing Awana Bible verses and late-nights of worrying are for. She is ready to fly- for real now! There is hope and adventure on the horizon and I cannot wait to see where God leads her. When she leaves for North Dakota State University this summer, try not to ask me why my eyes are so puffy red, or why I refuse to take my sunglasses off indoors. I will be a mess of tears, congestion, and utter loneliness for my girl. But the good outweighs the bad. I know this is where she is meant to be. And I look forward to the transition when I will no longer be her caregiver and disciplinarian. I can become her friend. It’s something I have always wanted, my entire life.