Lily gifted me a very special present today. Her DNA. It hung around her neck on a rope as she wandered out to the van from biology lab.

“We rubbed something around in our mouth and then mixed it with this liquid,” she explained.
“See the white stuff,” she pointed at the tiny vial. “That’s my DNA.”
Then she asked, “What am I going to do with it, Mama?”
“Put it in your hope chest,” I responded.
“Gross!” she replied.

But to me, it’s at least as special as a baby tooth. And I saved those. I even kept a little container with my “perfect” dog, Autumn’s baby teeth in it.
That’s how sentimental I am.
So I told her, “I’ll take it and put it in my hope chest then.” And I did.

Someday when I’m just a memory, the girls will unpack that cedar box. First it was grandma’s then mama’s and they’ll laugh about what I chose to keep.
They’ll find my positive pregnancy tests in Ziploc bags.
All the cards they ever gave me.
Their daddy’s cards too.
And the ones from my friends who spoke words of affirmation over me.
I guess I like cards.
I have a few diaries from my adolescence. Some of them I threw away. I just couldn’t bear the embarrassment. I was ridiculous!
There are yearbooks and diplomas, a high school class ring.
And all my favorite sermons on cassette tape.
Even a piece of driftwood straight from the Great Lake.
And I wouldn’t want to forget all those baby teeth.
Tonight, there’s also Lily’s DNA necklace.
I’d call that a stellar addition.

It might not seem like a big deal to her but it’s a wonder to me. That tiny morsel of white stuff is what made Lily Lily and it originated from a unique combination of Daddy and I under the supervisory design of God himself.

That DNA is nothing short of a miracle and neither is Lily.