Sarah and Rachel

Becoming a mother helped me understand God's heart so much better than I had previously known. He loves us more than this?! I adored my baby even before I saw her face.

Strange thing. When I was pregnant, for some reason I was sure my baby was a boy. So certain was I that I didn't even bother to choose a girl's middle name. I had a boy's first and middle name all picked out (though I can't remember it now. Brandon something, I think. Or Jared. Hmm. Anyway.)

Exactly one week before Thanksgiving she came. November 20, 1980 at 10:49 a.m. That was the moment that I officially became a mommy. My dream job! I would turn 21 only two weeks later.

She was a happy baby, a good baby. Two years and three months after Sarah came, her baby sister arrived. Another beautiful, good baby we named Rachel Marie, on February 19, 1983 at 3:01 p.m. A sunny Saturday afternoon. I remember the total bliss I felt afterwards. After all the post-birth rigamarole, I was rolled out to this recovery room where I was totally alone, at least for a little while (it seemed like a long time but I'm sure it was less than 20-30 minutes), and I remember the huge windows right next to me. I was able to gaze at the bright blue sky after having been in the windowless, cold, sterile delivery room amidst the chaos. Now I was basking in the sun and in God's love. Never before, or since, have I felt such tranquility.

Two daughters. How wonderful! I learned even more about God. Though we differ from one another, He loves us each individually. Sarah and Rachel were, and are, very different, but I love them both immensely. Immeasurably. Intensely.

Sarah is like me in some ways and Rachel is like me in other ways. And the ways they differ from me cause me to admire them all the more. Sarah's assertiveness. Rachel's serenity.

I long for the lost days of regular mother/daughter outings. The three of us in the kitchen together. Shopping together. Watching Designing Women together. Playing board games. Attending bridal showers. Baby showers. Birthday parties. Being in church together. Everything is more fun with them.

Now, in order for us all to be together, somebody has to travel over 800 miles. Sarah had to go and fall in love with a boy from Nebraska. A state I used to picture (the few times I ever heard the name Nebraska) as being flat and empty. Well it sure isn't empty now. It is home to two of my children and five grandchildren. What is empty is my house. My nest. (Gag. Waxing corny.)

Sarah is a wife, mother, business executive. She's short like me, but not as short. She has a dimple in one cheek. She has a bright smile, beautiful, full lips. Her hair is brown and has natural curl. Sarah laughs loudly and sneezes quietly. Her little sneezes are ridiculously dainty.

Sarah gave birth to three girls and she also has another daughter--a stepdaughter--and a stepson. Abigail Grace (Abbie) has the distinction of not only being my first grandchild, she was born the night before the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. I'll never forget walking into Sarah's hospital room the next morning after dropping Daniel off at school. I got there a few minutes before 9:00. As I walked through the door, Sarah said, as she pointed to the TV: "Mom, you're missing it. A plane just hit the World Trade Center." As my eyes focused on the scene, another plane hit. We spent the day adoring our new baby as we watched the historic events unfold. What a day. Wondrous in our own little world, but horrific on the tv screen.

Rachel is a wife, mother, student. She's not short--she's tall! She has big blue eyes that are captivating. And lovely, creamy skin. Her hair is thick and dark. Except for the same white birthmark in front, just like me! Her three sons have it as well! Rachel doesn't talk or laugh as much as Sarah; nevertheless, I hang on every word. And her laugh makes me feel especially happy.

Just a brief, simple introduction. I could write volumes on my girls, my boy, and my precious grandchildren. And in time....I'm sure I will :)