Miracles big and small

Sitting on my youngest daughter Julia’s bed, sifting through boxes and boxes of pictures of her, her brown eyes sparkling in each photo as she rambled through every day like a fearless colt in a china shop, I select the pictures I want. Julia at 6, owning the pink and purple fashion sense of a Disney princess. Julia at 8, with her sisters, Meredith and Mallory, kitchen-dancing in their matching red polka dot pajamas on Christmas morning. Julia at 18, her long ponytail tangled and stuffed into a navy blue, camp-issued visor.

I add another picture to the stack for her memorial service — a picture of her at 13, sporting an effervescent smile while her eyes hide the humiliation imposed on her by middle-school peer pressure.

It is difficult to be in the present, so I return to the year 2003.