The hearts in my little corner of the world are all about donuts. The hype. The drooling. The mass consumption of sugary goodness.
I, for one, have never held a particular affinity for donuts (unless of course I am offered a blueberry old fashioned. Then, all bets are off.) Still, I’ve found myself with a donut hankerin’ more and more as of late.
Why the enthusiasm?
“Because it’s something to be excited about.”
Hannah, the ring leader of enthusiasm, summed it up just so this week. Do we all really love donuts so very much? Well, yeah. Donuts are good! Donuts are great! Donuts should be consumed at all hours! But more than that, donuts are something to be excited about. No one refrains from celebration when a box of donuts shows up. We like to celebrate ’round here and we do it well and often and loudly. Sometimes, the celebration is in the midst of a very normal day made a little brighter by an unexpected treat.
Sometimes, the celebration is extra loud and raucous because there is something to be excited about. On July 24, Miss Molly Hessian turning a golden 24 is something to be excited about.
And so, I proclaim loudly and with much zeal, “Happy, happy birthday, Molly!”
Molly is someone worth celebrating, even more so than donuts. Her teacher’s heart inspires me daily; during my first weeks as a freshman claiming a major in elementary and special education, Molly claimed me as her own and has taken the role of passing on her knowledge and wisdom as she moved through college one year ahead of me. She is already the teacher I hope to one day become. Her extreme generosity humbles me each time she exercises her uncanny ability to remember favorites. Her laughter is a constant in my world and has carried me through my darkest nights, and her honesty has pushed me to pick myself up and walk through days I wasn’t sure I would survive. I am blessed to claim her as roommate, friend, and compass.
Most of all, I claim Molly as family. My family holds a long history of expanding as necessary. The doors of every home I have ever lived in remain unlocked and open wide. Friends melt into family easily when you’re a Hoeft, and my life glows richly with the light and joy of a family tree with weighted down limbs.
“We’ve had a lot of friends who feel like family, but no one more than you,” my sister’s words echo each time Molly sits down to dinner with my family or shares in celebration of news or says hello to whichever sister or parent happens to be on the phone.
She is worth celebrating, worth getting excited about, and worth bringing out the donuts for. Stay gold, Miss Molly.