On this day twenty five years ago, I met a person whose elbows and feet I had come to know well.

Daughter Rachel Mackenzie has never been without zest.

She was born with a fluff of white hair on her head and a frown of displeasure at the cold reality of her greatly-changed circumstances.

That sense of “what?!” has served her well.

Along with a magnetic-quality openness to life that has prompted her to drink deeply of being, Rachel’s “what?!” has seemed to alert her to possibility.

There are times of grumble, to be sure, but from this mother’s perspective, Rachel has decided to seek grace in the midst of most any adventure.  She is a woman possessed of great grit.

When we moved to Minneapolis before her Junior year in High School, she learned that making life means interacting with people; no matter how rocky and wretched circumstances are, people are antidote.

She built a life and friendships that sustain her yet.

Her “what?!” about the way the earth is consumed by greed has led her to advocacy for the living thing that is the earth.

And the “what?!” seems to have engendered in her a wicked sense of humor.  Long ago I gave up trying to be really angry with her.  She can wiggle me into laughter with the deft touch of an artist.

It’s a tricky thing, nattering on about the wonders of my kids.

It isn’t hard to do, given that daily I am moved by the gift of their being.

It’s tricky because words are mighty small things.

I don’t know how to thank God for the gift of Rachel Mackenzie.

It is honor to be her student.