This week marks another Birthday in our family. But unlike the previous ones, we do not remember the day of the birth-there isn't any trying to remember what the exact time was or who came to the hospital. This time we have only the gratitude that she was born at all, and that our precious daughter and son (in law) were willing to listen to that still small voice-the one that whispers His love into our hearts. And having heard-obeyed.
As I wonder through my little garden, I admire some of the fall foliage that returns each year, reminding me of those who have given me cuttings and seeds from their own gardens. My wonderful mother in law-the queen of the green thumb- has provided me with more cuttings, seeds, hints and encouragement than I can count. And it's nice that I will have a piece of her in my garden always. Oddly, I no longer remember exactly who or where some of my "transplants" came from- though I try. They have become so much a part of MY garden, that their origin doesn't matter.
And Marisol Elizabeth is so much a part of our hearts, her origin of birth is irrelevant. 
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