“We class ourselves as branches
on our family tree,
each person has a branch
and each branch has its branches
growing out of it.” – David Harris
The mirror has changed for me.
No longer do I see myself: nose, eyes, hair, skin. The older I become, the more I see others’ reflections gazing back at me…. my mother’s nose, my father’s sable hair, the blood flowing beneath my skin tying me to hundreds of thousands of men and women who came before me. Lives and stories of horrible pain and tremendous joy that have shaped my very existence.
Love and passion that lured them to a fate that was me…..and my children.
And yet, the mirror has changed again.
No longer do I only see the ones who came before, but the ones to follow. Their eyes are my husband’s and sister’s. Their faces our childhoods sprung to life once again. Their laughter carry echoes of halls and rooms they have never seen. Their skin reflects the glow of summer days and warm grass that they never touched.
Blood and bone of a girl who danced under the stars….and a boy lost in the notes of a piano… long before they even knew each other’s names.
The past, present, and future all ripple across my reflection, distinct as the creases subtly carved into my skin.
But more than that, I see the faithfulness of a God who transcends the ages.
And I am thankful to be a single branch in that tree of faithfulness