I’m on my way to Minnesota this morning to spend the weekend with Stephanie. Her 21st birthday is December 4th. My hubby will be managing things at home, which includes therapy for Dora today and Beth’s Division II Championship swim meet both days this weekend. I hate to miss the meet, but I want to spend the weekend with Steph and I have yet to figure out how to be two places at once.


I can’t believe it has been 21 years since Steph made her appearance. My birthday is three weeks after hers … I was almost 30 when she was born. Not too hard to do the math, is it? I wasn’t dying my hair or pushing wrinkles around my face when she was born. I took up less space on the planet back then, too.


But I didn’t know then what I know now. I didn’t appreciate the beauty of a child welcomed into a home that was excited about her arrival and prepared to parent her. I didn’t understand the impact I was having on her future mental health when I nursed her, never let her cry for long or left her unattended, talked to her often and provided a stimulating environment.


I took for granted the absence of loss or trauma in her life. She has never wondered if or when I will leave her. She has no reason to test my love for her or my degree of trustworthiness.


She has many friends, good relationships, and a very active social life! I will meet some of those friends this weekend. I will rejoice in her successes—academic, social, emotional. Her knowledge of the Bible and ancient languages and cultures is mind-boggling. I have never seen anyone so excited about receiving the gift of a Bible written in ancient Greek! (Shall I say it? “It was Greek to me!”)


In January, she will travel to Greece for her winter term. She’s confident, competent and more than capable of navigating this experience. She became this way because of good opportunities, good choices, and maybe a few good genes. Twenty-one years ago, who knew what wonders were in store?