She turned 17 today, born midway through my tenure at my first parish in Pennsylvania. A couple of years later she thwarted my attempt at growing tomatoes, eating so many off the vine that she won't eat them today. Not longer after that we moved down the road a bit, and I started catching her eating again, this time behind the altar, helping herself to communion wafers. I am sure she recalls always being a communicant in the church, and so it should be. She was maybe six when she baptized the family pets, carefully reciting the words which she had heard me offer over so many. When I was installed at that Baltimore congregation earlier that year, she was my acolyte and her reception of communion soon led to an uprising among her congregational peers.

She was nine or so when I could no longer deal with her mother's alcoholism and now has had to deal with it on her own, unwillingly, ever since. When she was 14, I sold my house in Baltimore to move back to NY to support her as best I could even though I live daily with the knowledge that I'm not able to do enough for her.

On days when little else makes sense, I think of her and find the strength to push on. Despite it all, she maintains a 90 average in school and has been talking about college since the school year began. So, maybe, we will be on the move again.

I never knew how much my life would change seventeen years ago but it has and I am the better for it, for her. I thank God daily for her, for my Rachel Anne.