The candles cast shadow light on the faces around the table, smoothed over with Christmas music and plenty of red wine—the babies lured into dreamy stares by the steady rhythm of conversation, the clinking of glasses. The question—what was your favorite part of this Christmas; the answers—stockings, the breakfast, watching Laura open her Kitchen Aid. And out of the blue, my dad answered this: my favorite part was standing in church and looking down the row, where all my children stood with their spouses worshipping the same God.
Again I wonder why, of all the people and all the places and all the eras in history, my life is here, linked to these people, in mother-daughter-sister-spouse ways, and if that will have an imprint on who we are, eternally. I find myself thinking about this and wondering about it more and more the older June gets, the more she transitions from a newborn into a baby with a personality, preferences, and a sense of humor. Why is it, that of all the mother-daughter pairs in all of time, June and I are paired together? What is it that we’ll learn from each other?