When my oldest daughter was born, many people immediately said she looked almost identical to her father, my husband. We quickly matched up baby pictures, and they were right.

God is a God of diversity.

She’s his image and name bearer, yet she’s unique. She has both my nervous personality and my slight build. She has my small ears, my wide feet.

Or, as she once put it, “I look just like Daddy, but I have your bottom.” Well, dear child, I couldn’t have said it better myself. I’m glad we got that conversation out of the way now, instead of later, when you’re an angsty, hormonal teenager.

My youngest daughter, on the other hand, looks almost identical to me. She’s my image and (middle) name bearer, yet she’s also unique. She has her father’s large ears, narrow feet, pointy chin, and athletic ability. Somehow, though, she’s extremely extroverted, a morning person, and fearless and wild—traits she obtained from neither parent.