Thirty years ago, in the month of December, two baby girls were born, one in Oklahoma and the other in Texas . They didn't know each other, but I knew them both. They were blessings to their families - joyful, funny and adventurous, sassy and tomboyish, pigtailed and opinionated, loving and sometimes stubborn. Like every one of us, they had to endure some tough lessons along the road of life, but they walked through them and kept their sense of wonder, their sense of humor, and their hope for love. They each became what they had always wanted to be - a mother. One had a little girl, the other had a little boy. For a season they were each a single parent, which must have been a struggle, but they did an excellent job because their children are bright and funny, smart and loving (much like their moms). And this past Saturday, at the exact same time and with only a hundred miles separating them, these two girls said “I do” and married men who had unexpectedly walked into their lives and changed those lives.
I sat in a pew at the Methodist Church here in town and watched Amy exchange her vows with Silvester. I could only imagine the exchange of the same vows between Traci and Richard in Liberal, Kansas. During the ceremony I cried a few loving tears for my girls - and in my heart I blessed each of them with a prayer that life will be all they hope for and all they dream it will be with these men who they have chosen to walk beside.
And you know me, I try to find a lesson in everything….and I learned a big one while watching “my” girls find their way to the altar. It was a struggle to admit it, but finally I realized these girls were no longer standing before me in pigtails and dragging their Cabbage Patch dolls behind them. They were adults, they were women, and they needed not my advice but my love. And once I got that, I opened my heart and my arms to Traci and Amy, to Silvester and Richard, and asked God to bless them all.
Sunday night I went in search of the rising of this month's full moon. I found a dirt road away from the city lights, turned off the pickup's engine, and waited. Nature then gave me an extra show, because the northern sky was frenetic with lightning. At first it was just the kind that looks as though a war battle is being fought in the distance, pops of light on the horizon. But soon it drew closer and there were some “ohs” and “ahs” coming from me as giant zigs and zags of lightning cut through the night. So enthralled was I with that display that I almost missed the main attraction - a humongous, bright orange moon, craters and all, suddenly appearing in the eastern sky. It didn't look round and full at first, instead it was squashed and lumpy. But then, in all its glory, it was up and magnificent. I thought about this orb, this moon, that has decorated our night since the beginning of time…..I was looking at something really, really, really old! And I just smiled in pure awe. For this night, for this moon, for these bolts of lighting I was a witness to the power and continuity of Nature, even though Nature doesn't need a witness - it just does its thing and invites us to watch the performance.
Boise City News