Somewhere, buried in Mom’s photo albums is a picture.
Vonda, my little sister, was good at entertaining herself. She would line up her stuffed animals—and her cat if she was in a tolerant mood—and she would lead them in Sunday School songs, followed by a lesson.
Mom’s picture is of one of these “Sunday School lessons.” A dozen stuffed animals attentively listen from their perch on the couch as Vonda diligently taught her “lesson.”
It seems, not so long ago that Vonda was that little five year old, but yet, we have another generation already grown and getting married.
I teased my niece, Megan, at her wedding a couple of weeks ago, that she might be married, but she was still eight in my mind. That she always would be.
But, as I watched her stand under the lovely trellis with her groom, absolutely princess-level beautiful in her wedding dress; I didn’t see an eight-year-old after all. I saw a woman, and I teared up. Joy? Or sadness?
A bit of both, I guess.
But wait! Maybe one of these days there will be more great-niblings from some of these eight year old brides and grooms.
Possibly a little girl or boy teaching their stuffed animals or pets about Jesus.
Maybe a little girl with three pigtails running with her arms rotating like a windmill “to make her go faster.”
Or, several, gathering around the new books they received from Great-Aunt Miriam.
And, in three blinks, there will be another group of weddings. That’s how life goes, isn’t it?
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