My daughter took this picture.

"My daughter took this picture."

Words like these.  Said nonchalantly. 

By many mothers.  All the time.

And one might ask.  What's the story?  Behind the picture?

Nothing really.  Just a gorgeous vista.  Something we're both crazy about.

But what's behind the words? 

Something else indeed.

My daughter. 

It took a long time for me to become a mom.  Now to two great guys and one cool girl.

And so the words never nonchalant.  Never without gratitude.

Because they are grown these days.  Flown the nest.  Something to celebrate.

More like good friends to me and my best friend.  Jon.

Closing out their twenties.  Entering their thirties.

Full of life and smartness and grasping opportunity.  Loving the days.

But also.  Like everyone else.  Greeting challenge and overcoming adversity.

Just like we did.  Years ago.

Me and Jon.  Facing infertility.  Adoption three times.  Raising a family.  Never easy.

But the most important work and greatest joy.

And so I am reminded.  Again and again.  Adversity.  Bringing good stuff.

Remembering the years, yes years; tears over pregnancies not happening. 

And then tentative joy, more like pain; the anxious wait.
To be given the word.  Today's the day. Go to the airport.
Our child's picture in hand; ours to pick up.  Unbelievable.  Crazy good.

Suddenly hearts never the same.  Pouring over our children.  Medical scares and school struggles and lots and lots and lots to do; raising kids, that is.  Never ending.
Always challenging.  And always worth the struggle.

Today.  An empty nest - most of the time.

And in the place called empty - nothing empty about it.

Adult children.  The greatest joy.  Friends as well as family.

God redeeming the years of waiting and the years of struggle and the years, even now, of uncertainty in a world that constantly challenges and scares and keeps us slightly off center.  Not always understanding.

But choosing to trust.  And looking back reminds.

Redemption.  Everywhere I look.  Seeing it best looking back.  Over my shoulder.

And so never the nonchalant. 
Not with my grown kids or anything of God.

When I speak of our daughter.  Or either of our sons.
It's on holy ground.  Not because of them, so much; because of God and the work He has done and continues to do.  In my life.  In theirs.

My daughter took this picture. 

It's beautiful.  She's beautiful too.