A woman who bore a dozen children died this week. I mentioned this to my twins, naming those grandchildren they knew. 

"Well there is Keith, the housemaster. And Sammy from volleyball, and Mariah. The man who took down our tree, and Kyle and Lynne. Actually she is their great grandma."

My daughter looked surprised. Many of those people had different last names. Lived in varying places. Had red hair, blonde, and brunette. I could have gone on, of course. Glenn, Erin, Bonnie, Miriam and Diane were some of the ones I have known over the years. Gone to camp with, sung with over a guitar, laughed with at fancy dinners. I realized there are twins in all three generations. 

It was interesting to witness the girls' reaction to learning that this medley of people are so closely connected. The same thing happened when we moved here sixteen years ago, and I informed my older kids how many of their friends were their second cousins. 

"Well, Simon, and Ethan, Stephanie and Justin, Chelsea and Alanna, Curtis and Bethany...." My grandmother was mother to twelve as well, and her legacy has done what trees are famous for. Knowledge of these connections put a damper on romantic interests, but expanded the pool for instant friends. 

I wonder if God smiles at my unawareness of the intricate ties between me and people around me. Even the ones whose names I do not know, and have never spoken with. Who could so easily be friends.