20 years ago, just two days before my twins were born, our front maple tree in Colorado Springs was a blaze of glory, all shades of bright red and burnt orange.
It was a beautiful reminder of surprise and blessing, how I interpreted having healthy twins — awe and gratitude.
With blue skies and bright sunshine, JP took my picture in front of the tree, and the next day the leaves blew down in the rain and brisk wind of an early-autumn storm.
The following night, our twins were born.
Motherhood has been like that, of many unexpected shifts, always changing and evolving, stretching me out of my comfort zone and beyond my abilities.
When I see a blazing maple, I am grateful for those early days— the year of three daughters in diapers, their often-harmonious cadence of cheery little voices, hands reaching up for help and love.
Seven years of raising teenagers also has held its own special moments of whimsy and exhaustion, mystery and delight.
And now, I am also incredibly grateful for these young adult years, watching our daughters navigate college and step into their own hopes and dreams, embracing their callings, pursuing challenging but rewarding degrees.
There is something so tender in seeing them on the cusp of those meaningful careers.
Our daily orbits have changed, but it only takes a moment for me to return to those new and wondrous moments twenty years ago.
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