My Toucher

My girls are as different from one another as three, distinct, unique snowflakes.  Each a masterpiece.  Each a mix of x and y chromosomes that fashion little women that are ... amazing.  Leader.  Toucher.  Teller.  Put them together and they are a force to be reckoned with ... truly.

This morning I had an encounter with my Toucher.  I know she likes it when I just am ... there.  Usually preferring for me not to talk but just "be" with her.  She was putting the final touches to a flawless face.  Looking eye to eye in the mirror when did this awkward toddler become a ... woman?

I picked at a long, blond hair that was clinging to her t-shirt.  That's what triggered my Toucher to talk.  When this happens ears perk and I listen.

"Do you remember when I was little, I used to take one piece of your hair when you would tuck me in at night?  I took your hair so I could have a piece of you while I slept."

World rocks.

It rocks because of the tenderness.  It also rocks because I don't remember this!  Typical Toucher.  She probably did this without any words and obviously without any recognition on my part of the DNA transaction.

As I am making my list, counting to 1,000 (see Sept. 14th Post) my Toucher reminded me this morning that I am holding onto pieces of hair ... in the form of simple gifts ... as a reminder ... that the One who loves me more than I can wrap a human mind around ... gives of Himself ... everyday ... parts of Himself to me.  One day a warm muffin.  One day a call at just the right moment.  One day a moment of words from my Toucher.  All gifts.  All in the midst of normal life ... be it smooth or rough.

Counting on ...