It seems unlikely that I would have had the wherewithal to recognize it. But early in the game I expected our kids to be replicas of John and me. It is a common practice for relatives to point out a similar nose shape, or long fingers. It adds to the misplaced sense of accomplishment at having created this miraculous infant. Of course she has brown eyes. So does her father. It seemed like a slam dunk that our children would play the piano, or guitar, rather than say basketball. Marriage and children were a given, because that was what we chose. Even their relationships to God would be reruns. More than a little ego in that scenario. 

 

But forty years later the view has shifted. While my deep desire for my sons' and daughters' happiness has not diminished, I have loosened the reins on how that plays out. I no longer regard myself as the mold from which their lives are poured. God already has me. Why would he need two? Twins notwithstanding, God is rather fond of variety. 

 

In the absence of hunting for proof that my kids followed my lead, it is delightful to discover their uniqueness. I like our choices, or at least some of them. But the astonishing multiplicity in creation is evidence that there is enough room in God's heart for diversity.