She knows about a husband in ministry...a job that comes home with you every night, both physically, as in stuff everywhere (with my dad it was music...always endless pages of music filling up our house, and cassette tapes of choral arrangements in every part), and in your heart. Always thinking about what was stirred during that last conversation or thinking about that kid that's walked away and needs Jesus so bad.
She knows about raising three girls, too. Last week she told me she didn't envy the task Loren and I have. That raising girls back when we were small was hard enough. Today, it seems so much harder. But she has also pulled me aside before and told me that she wouldn't have traded having three girls for anything. And I can see in her eyes what I have come to know to be true. That the moments between mothers and daughters can be so full with feeling, all that estrogen and all those easy tears mixed with the flowery vanilla scents that women have, that a heart can feel just about to burst with the beauty of it. And I know that when her cell phone plays the tune to "My Girl" when one of us calls, that that's exactly how she feels.