Cascading brunette hair falling over her shoulder, Christine would smile so infectiously that an entire room became happy. Waspish waist and with long legs under pleated skirts, she would walk with a confident stride. She had me. I mean I was a goner. I wish my children could see her like that and hear her sing with that young voice still finding its strength yet already hitting soaring notes. I wish they could know her with that fresh faith in God that emboldened her to be willing to follow God anywhere.
I wonder what my children might have thought of her, of us. And if they could see me as I was, lean, strong body, a sprinter’s legs like lightening on the two hundred-metre track.