Entering Into Someone’s Pain

‘Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear and the burden I give you is light.’ ~Jesus

When people I love are hurting I find myself standing helplessly at the base of the giant mountain called ‘insurmountable inadequacy.’  I feel frustrated, awkward, wanting to say the right thing at the right time, wanting it fixed right now. Let me take your pain. Please.

In the critiquing process of specific conversations I replay the words I meant to be loving and encouraging, whipping out that big, imaginary red pen and start marking away. ‘Why did I say it that way? I meant this but I bet it sounded like that…’  And on and on the self-talk plays out in the circular conversation that only I can hear.

Growing up I lived among a family who loved well. I would have picked no other group of people to live, laugh and love with these past 55 years.  But if this family had one glaring defect it would be its aversion to conflict and facing hard stuff head on.

In my growing up years and as a young adult, there were two techniques used to face the hard stuff we all encounter on this path called life. The first is what I will call the ‘stick-your-head-in-the-sand’ technique. Just pretend it is not there. If you don’t see it, it’s not a problem. The second was to simply gloss over the deep pain, the devastating news, with the simple cliché that ‘everything is going to be okay.’

When my mom died suddenly three years ago we all got a crash-course on getting real. Thank you Jesus!

From that day forward God has been showing me the better path of entering in and walking beside those who have great hurts, deep wounds, just heard the worst news, and are living circumstances that can not and will not be fixed today. Or tomorrow.

It has been my hardest life lesson.

Here is what has been the most pleasant surprise, though. God walks beside me as I walk beside the precious one who is hurting.

I’ve decided to put fear on the shelf and believe God when He says that He is sufficient to meet all needs. Here is what this looks like in the practical:

Instead of just sending someone a card when I hear they have cancer I actually sit across a table from them (with no words…there are NO words) entering into their pain up close and personal. While they speak words that often times are clinging to the last thread of hope I ask God, “What next? What are my next words? I’ve got nothing here, God. Quick. She’s finishing her sentence.”

Or the friend whose hubby just lost his job. Or the friend whose kids are so far off the tracks she’s having trouble finding God’s plan (and goodness) in the big picture.

God has yet to leave me hanging. I can stand today and honestly say this is indeed the better path. I am living and learning it. Up close and personal.

Lucky Seven

‘Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged.  It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out.  Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.’ ~1 Corinthians 13

We kicked off birthday week with frozen yogurt. Chocolate and vanilla with three toppings. Two sugary scoops is our norm, but it’s birthday week. And you only turn seven once.

Tucker, living smack dab in the middle of the childhood wonder years is so excited. ‘Grandma, did you go shopping for my birthday present yet?’ I glanced in the rear view mirror and saw Skylar’s eyes light up. Skylar is three and his mama had warned me that keeping birthday secrets was not his forte. I locked eyes with him and with my best telepathic, furrowed-brow stare reminded him of our big-boy talk earlier that day.

He bit his tongue and pulled back the words that were so ready to gush forth: ‘Yes Tucker! We did! We got you a….’

Tucker picked up on this secret rear view mirror communication and saw the look on his brother’s face. It is the look that all three year olds possess: I have all the power. Don’t mess with me!

Knowing his brother better than anyone else on the planet the birthday boy yelled, ‘Skylar, don’t tell me!’

Skylar looked up at my pleading eyes in that tiny mirror, dropped his shoulders and smiled. Catastrophe averted. T-man and I let out a sigh of relief. Who knows what secrets were divulged after I dropped them off at home. Optimist that I am, I drove away hoping that the secret stayed locked in that little blonde boy’s heart.  I’m a dreamer, I know.

This is one of the most beautiful things about being a grandma. You are allowed to love-without-limits these future men, husbands, fathers, and at the end of a day of gut-giggles, spoiling (and really, did anyone ever die from grandparent over-indulgence?!) deep little-boy ponderings and games galore, you simply pull up, unload, and deposit them back into the loving care of their mom and dad.

I love this grandma gig. It’s all about the love.

The prayers of a grandma never turn off. Some of you know this. Throughout the daytime routine and the sometimes sleepless nights my heart communicates with the One who knows me the best and loves me the most.

This morning as I reflect on our sweet boy turning seven today, my heart and lips overflow with thanksgiving for this precious family. A mom and dad who laugh, love, train and play well. Two little men who have introduced me to a love I did not know existed before I met them.

Happy Birthday, Tucker! Today is your day. Enjoy seven. It is a wondrous year, little man.

Restored Joy

‘Trust God from the bottom of your heart; don’t try to figure out everything on your own.  Listen for God’s voice in everything you do, everywhere you go; he’s the one who will keep you on track.’ ~Proverbs 3:5-6

Three years.  It’s funny how a period of time can seem like it has gone fast and slow all at the same time.  If measured by days, sunrises and sunsets, then there have been 1,096 of them. Spring, summer, fall and winter, we have cycled through three times.

My days. Days filled with life, love, little boys, big boys. The beautiful brides.  Some nights, late at night, I close my eyes and play back the memory reel in my mind. Like favorite scenes in a movie I see our days play out: beach vacations, Christmas mornings, pool barbecues, birthdays, anniversaries.

Mothers’ days…

Treasured memories tucked away safe in the deepest well of my heart.  Memories that no longer include her.

My days are like your days. There are highs and lows, good and bad, joy and sorrow.  She’s missed so many days.

He was only six weeks old when Mom passed. Our sweet Skylar.  I think to myself almost daily, ‘Oh Mom, you would have loved this little blonde boy.’  I’m not sure if there’s a window from heaven to earth but I like to believe there might be.  Imagining that she sees how much I love being a grandma brings joy to my heart.

I like to imagine Mom in her new heavenly home.  I  have seen her in dreams.  Some nights as I drift off to sleep I ask God to please bring her to me in my dreams. And He has.

Losing your mom is something you never get over.  I know this now.  It is something you walk through and live with for the remainder of your days.  Experience has taught me to draw strength from those who love me. God has placed an amazing family around me and in the early days when the sorrow tried to pull me under they were there to prop me up.

Family. One of God’s best ideas.

On the eve of that unexpected day I find myself in a new place.  Strength has returned and joy is full.  Just this week I shared with my beautiful daughter-in-love Cori these words:  ‘I’m back!’  She smiled and her eyes twinkled.  She knows.  She is also a member of this exclusive club.

Jesus is generous and kind and surprises me each day with another dimension of His love.  It’s humbling.  But I receive it. One day at a time.

Surgeons and God’s Favor

I could tell he didn’t want to hurt my feelings but the facts are the facts.  For two months I’d looked forward to our meeting and as we shook hands I was relieved that I liked him right away.  If someone’s planning to cut me open, I want to like him.

We went over the specifics of that crazy day that ended with an emergency visit and one night stay at the hospital, a first for me.  Then a review of the reports from the hospital.  ‘Yes, you are very healthy, everything looks great but…  because of this walnut size stone here in your gallbladder, it needs to come out.’

More details with chit-chat mixed in. Hop up on the table, please. My first surgery.  I wasn’t worried about the surgery so much. All my friends who have had their gallbladder removed assured me it was no big deal. What had me concerned was the timing of the surgery.  It had to be done before the year end so the very high deductible that had just been paid would not have to be paid again in January.

After the exam I shared these concerns.  Smiling and searching for the right words, my new surgeon looked me in the eye and gently explained to me that everyone has high deductible insurance these days and I’m sorry, but everyone wants their surgery scheduled by the end of the year.  ‘We’ll see what we can do. You won’t leave here today with a surgery date, but we’ll call you in the next week or so.’  Hmmmm…  is that right.

I rested in the power of God’s hand moving in that sterile office setting, and wondered what could happen in such a short time-frame to change the outcome.  Because what my new friend here didn’t know was that for weeks now I had been asking God for favor with this ‘best-of-the-best’ surgeon and his excellent staff. He had no idea that the people who love me were also praying for favor.  Wondering how God was going to work this one, I decided just to watch it play out.

I’m not sure exactly where in our conversation over the next 15 minutes it was that God started to change the script. We discussed the procedure, recovery time, my profession, our grandchildren. He told me that he holds his grandchildren’s hands when they have their dental appointments. I knew I liked this man.

There was no begging, there were no tears. The exam room was flooded with the peace of God so I just kicked back and watched God do the impossible.  As the appointment wrapped up, he checked specific boxes on the form attached to my chart and asked me to follow him to the front desk. He told his ‘scheduler’ that he would like to schedule my surgery before the end of the year on a Monday or Tuesday.  She smiled at him, raised her eyebrows and gave him that look that said ‘keep dreaming.’  Then he invited her into his private office and left me with the wonderful front office assistant.

The young woman behind the counter showed me pictures of her kids and we sighed together over the fact that there was a whole lot of cookin’ about to take place with Thanksgiving being tomorrow.  I was in the conversation, sort of.  But deep within my heart I was kneeling at the foot of the throne giving thanks for what was taking place in that private office.  The favor of God was on me and He was pushing me to the front of the line.

The door opened and surgeon and scheduler emerged from the office. I could read the kindness in his face.  ‘How about Friday, December 21st?’  Perfect. That will be just perfect.

After thanking this generous professional over and over again, and scheduling pre-ops and post-ops with the ‘scheduler,’ (who confided in me that she was scheduling surgeries for the end of January, but for some reason he wants yours done in December), I climbed down the stairs from that third floor office,  fighting back the tears.  They were the joyful tears that come when you realize once again that God really does hear your heart cries, and He really does know you, really does love you.

Grateful, humbled, and overflowing with joy this Thanksgiving eve. So, so grateful.

He Writes His Love Letters With His Life

February 13th.  The day before the big day.  Hearts, roses, chocolates, gushy (expensive) cards…  Valentine’s Day is on display in full force and the pressure’s on.  Who do you love? Who loves you? How much do they really love you?  Tomorrow has so many expectations packed into it.  I will admit the cynicism in me makes me balk at the commercialism of the whole thing.  The mom of boys, the grandma of boys, married to a boy… I’m a no-frills kinda gal and must admit most of the hype goes right over my head.  Really, is this what love is all about?

This summer the adorable hubby and I will celebrate 35 years of marriage.  When I look back and calculate that this means I was 19 years old when we stood under that persimmon tree and recited some very serious vows, many thoughts flood my mind all at the same time:  We were so (too) young!  (At the time I felt very mature and that I had life by the tail. I’d had my own apartment for two years! hahaha…)  What were we thinking?  (We weren’t thinking, we were in love.)   If only we knew then what we know now.  (Thank God we did not.)   Oh Jesus… thank you, thank you, thank you for your grace and kindness toward me.

This empty-nest era leaves much time for contemplation and assessment. In between delightful and life-giving grandson encounters it is easy to slip into look-back mode.  The quiet, slow, winter months are fertile ground for my heart to think way too much about the big things in my life.  This winter has been no different.  And so this day before Valentine’s Day 2012 I have some thoughts about what love, from my perspective, really looks like.

Love is making waffles with peanut butter on Sunday mornings for the adorable grandsons.  Love is endless readings of the same books on Grandpa’s lap, now with the help of a pair of readers.  It’s everyday, little things (that really are the big things), like unlocking the garage door every morning before I dash to work and vacuuming when the velcro-schnauzer has brought in and sprinkled throughout the house whatever has fallen from the trees this week.  It’s finding that leak in the room that always wants to leak and fixing it so we are cozy and dry.  It’s keeping the warmth from the woodstove going during the cold, gray days of winter, knowing how much his bride hates the cold, and that somehow this warmth makes winter a bit more bearable for a heart that yearns for summer days.

Love is summer beach house vacations with the amazing sons, beautiful brides and adorable grandsons, building sand creations on the beach that draw oohs and ahhs, and cuddling a napping pooped-out boy under a beach umbrella.  It’s teaching your almost-five year old grandson how to bodysurf, watching for the perfect wave, knowing when to wait for the right one.  Love is loading up the beach wagon with every item needed during a long day in the sand, packing to perfection so not one essential is missed.

It’s listening to grown sons who are now men as they share dreams and ideas.  It’s seeing that look in my eyes after a very long day at work and suggesting dinner out at my favorite restaurant.  It’s working hard even though work is slow during tough economic times.  And love is laughing and making me laugh at all the right times.

I guess Valentine’s Day isn’t all that bad.  Roses are okay.  Candle-lit dinners? Fine.  But the things that still make this heart leap have nothing to do with what retailers have to offer.

Thanksgiving And The Fam

Twinkling Blue Eyes…The Courageous Woman.

“The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything.” ~Phillipians 4

I saw her lip quiver ever so slightly.  We were sitting on a warm bench, sun bouncing off the water, boats bobbing in Avalon harbor.  It wasn’t a surprise but at the same time she looked shocked. She knew her brother was approaching the final chapter of his story here on earth.  At 93, most people are.  The only girl and oldest of five brothers, my grandma’s brother was three years younger than she.  Two brothers remain.

My dad called to share the sad news and when I told her Uncle Howard was now hanging out with Grandpa in Heaven, that is when I saw it.  When she heard the news the stoic demeanor that has defined this five foot dynamo cracked, just for a split second.  I wondered what was going through her mind as the gentle breeze brushed our sun-baked cheeks.  Her thoughts. Crippled just slightly by the short-term memory loss that often is the price we pay for walking the journey so long.

I hugged her and we retold stories from her childhood.  “Gram, remember when…”  It’s what families do, live life together and then retell the stories that bind our hearts together  The sparkle in her eyes returned as she easily remembers life long ago. It is only present events that seem to trip her up.  “Where are we?”  “Catalina…”  “Oh, that’s right.  My grandmother used to live here, you know.”  “Yes, Gram, I remember.”

As we waited for my aunt to return from her errand, Gram wondered aloud which of her brothers were still alive.  I reminded her and told her that her youngest brother would be traveling to the memorial service to deliver the eulogy.  She liked this idea.  The twinkling eyes brightened even more.

I love those twinkling, crystal blue eyes.  I will never forget them.  These are the same eyes that looked into mine 54 years ago as she held her first grandchild. Oh, all that these eyes have witnessed in 95 years.

I studied this beautiful woman over the past several days as we vacationed in one of our favorite spots on the planet.  Looking into those sparkling eyes I realized that I’ve learned so many of the important things in life through her life.  I just soaked it up, our mini retreat, cherishing every moment with this lovely lady who prayed me through every chapter of my own journey.

Always a bit too introspective, I gazed out at the beautiful blue sea. My heart jumped as I let my mind imagine. Someday I will receive a call from my dad and the news he will deliver is that Gram now sees Jesus face-to-face.  It won’t be a surprise but I am quite sure that I will be shocked.  I bet my lip will quiver.

When Jesus is near, fear wanes.  Courage swells, rolls over our frightened hearts like the glistening waves in the bay.   I am convinced that God holds your heart and hand a little bit firmer on the final leg of this race called life.  I witnessed it this week, and this is amazingly good news to this wondering heart.

Intimacy. No Going Back…

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” ~John 10:10

It is the gray days of winter (now spring!) that wrap my light and cheerful heart up like a blanket and hide the person I really am.  I spend much of this season wrestling and fighting to wiggle my way free, but on many a day the battle seems futile.  Has this cold, dreary season changed who my God is?  Is this season not part of His beautiful creation and a vital part of providing all that His children, myself included, need on this earth?  You do not need to answer these questions. I know the answers.

I love the honest discussions I am allowed with the Designer of my heart.  This Heavenly Father who sits on the throne of the universe beckons me to an intimacy where no topic is off-limits.  Okay God, so if You have created this heart of mine, knit me in my mother’s womb, fashioned me uniquely to walk my allotted days in this five foot, blonde, temporary shell, why, WHY, God, did You not knit my heart to love the stone cold of the gray?  It really would have made my life much easier if you had thought of this.

Like a broken record I hear these words in my mind:  “It’s just weather, get over it…”  You have no idea how many times I have repeated this mantra and chastised myself for not being able to climb out of my winter pit. Knowing I need a power greater than I possess, I turn to God and scream for relief.  Which is probably the answer to the whole thing.

Do we not all have those recurring themes in our lives that force us to face the fact that we are weak and He is strong? If we did not, how would the intimacy level in our relationship with God be different?  I know how mine would be different…and it would not be pretty.  I am quite sure that the confidence cloud I float on for three-quarters of the year might somehow morph into pride and arrogance.  The raw,  sometimes painful exchanges of my honest heart would most likely become diluted, albeit enjoyable, chit-chats with the Creator of the universe.  I have often allowed my imagination to wander down the lane of, ‘well, maybe that kind of relationship with God would be okay…’

And then I see it.  The eye-roll.  Deep in the secret place where God and I get real, He gives me that look that says it all.  “Really?  You really think you could settle for that now, after you’ve seen what you’ve seen, after you’ve lived what you’ve lived?  Really?” 

Ugh! You are right God.  I hate it and love it when You are right.  I know there is no going back once you’ve crossed a certain line with God.  It’s just the way it is.  This past year I have seen God’s power blow through my life, I have felt His strong arms hold me steady, I have heard His whispers of love when I felt I would drown in my own tears.  No. I could not go back.

Maybe the Designer really does have it all figured out.  ‘I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.’  Hmmmmm…  If fullness of life, for me, only comes through the gray days, I guess that’s okay.  Because I can never go back.  Too late now.

Tears In A Bottle

‘You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.’ ~Psalm 56:8

Christmas has once again come and gone, and everything that glitters and twinkles is safely packed away until next year.  All of  a sudden the house looks clean and yet a bit empty and sad.  I love Christmas but would be lying if I didn’t confess that this season often makes me feel a little melancholy.  Christmas is a time that serves as a marker…a reminder of things past, a reminder of memories sweet and bitter, a reminder of relationships that may be lacking and less than we’ve dreamed.    

It can also be a marker of firsts.  We had two significant firsts in our family this year.  Christmas 2010 was my mom’s first celebration in Heaven.  On quiet evenings bathed by Christmas tree lights I loved to close my eyes and see Mom seated comfortably at the Father’s table.  Lavish, this gathering was one that included many beautiful things, but pain and tears were not permitted.   Seeing her free from her earthly broken body filled my heart with joy and peace.  I had heard from those who know that the first Christmas might be tough.  This assessment was accurate, but we made it through, supporting each other through hugs and words of love and more hugs.

Christmas 2010 was also my youngest grandson, Skylar’s, first Christmas on this globe we call our temporal home.  When I think of how God linked these two monumental events in my life, the sad farewell and joyous debut, I am humbled by His kindness and mercy once again. I cannot imagine 2010 without sweet Skylar.  There is  no better medicine for an aching heart than snuggling your newborn grandson.  This beautiful bundle of boy, with sandy hair, sparkling blue eyes and giggles galore has made my journey through the tunnel of grief a peaceful, hopeful journey.  God is good at figuring this stuff out and I am so thankful He is.

I’ve learned a lot about living in the moment  this past year.  Losing someone you love very much, suddenly and without warning, will do that.  Feeling quite spoiled, I enjoyed a Christmas morn with the ones I love the most gathered around my tree.   As the gifts were passed and opened, I just soaked in the moment, enjoying the new memories.  Watching our oldest grandson Tucker lovingly help his nine month old brother, Skylar, open his gifts made my heart feel free and childlike again. 

I found tears near the surface as I looked across the room at my sweet Dad, knowing his lonely heart was screaming for his beloved.  In the secret place of my own pain deep within my heart I invited Jesus to join me in this new and scary experience.   He never balks at my invitations.  At that moment I felt myself being held up by familiar arms that are strong and sure and even found myself relaxing and leaning into them.  The morning festivities turned into afternoon festivities and soon we were hugging and saying goodbyes. 

The last car drove away and I settled into my favorite chair near the fire.  It surprised me how quickly and easily the tears flowed.  These tears were different than other tears I had shed in the seven months since my mom met Jesus face to face.  Like a faucet turned wide open, there was no holding these back as I had done so often before.  So I let them go, and as I stood face to face and toe to toe with my pain and sadness,  I heard the familiar whisper from the Lover of my soul.  “Let them go, let them go…  Beautiful daughter, I know your pain, I am collecting every tear.” 

When my son and daughter-in-love joined us later that evening for a candlelight dinner, my heart was light and my spirit renewed.  I felt courage and hope for the next leg of the journey.  Christmas 2010 was fun and precious,  new and scary, and was now tucked away safely into our  memories.  We made it through this first, this biggie.  Jesus proved himself faithful once again.  He is interested in every facet of my life…and yours.  This Designer of my heart  is ready to enter into every painful place and will never turn down our invitation.  He’s so good at that…

Corianna…

I just returned from vacation.  Family vacations are the highlight of my year.  The last several have included my loving hubby, my two sons, their beautiful brides, and this year two adorable grandsons.  The destination is always the same…somewhere with sun, sand and surf.  The criteria for the accommodations is any modest, comfortable dwelling within a block or two of the beach.  A hot tub is a bonus.

The addition of daughters into our family has been a blessing that I simply cannot find words to describe.  These exceptional women are always gracious as we retell stories of vacations-past in these familiar places where our boys grew up. As my grandson builds castles of sand and jumps with screeches of joy in the crashing waves, my introspective spirit returns to the days when these sons of mine were just boys, and I once again marvel at how quickly the years have flown by.

I’m not sure if it was the fact that this particular beach and the memories attached had included my Mom on many occasions, but the very first day I felt a fog of sadness roll over my heart, and by day two the cloud had not lifted.  I worked hard at disguising it, as this was vacation, the one and only vacation of the year, and what a waste it would be to entertain even one sad thought.

Losing your mom is funny.  Well, it’s not funny, but something happens in the deepest place that is you.  Something shifts.  I’m sure it’s different for everyone, but in the four months I’ve experienced, I have felt less sure of who I am.  I have always been a confident person, some may say too confident at times.  I grew up feeling loved and cheered and knew from day one that I could tackle anything I set my mind to.  Losing my mom has shaken this confidence, just a bit.

Cori, my beautiful daughter-in-love, saw right through my charade right from the start.  When the rest of the crew had dispersed either into the ocean or back to the house for a nap, she looked me straight in the eyes and asked me how I was doing.  I tried to give her the “I’m doing great” that always seemed to work in the world of men I was accustomed to.  This response had served me well over the years, especially when I just wanted to hide away and work things out in my own timing. 

She wasn’t having any of it.  It was like the lid on my heart had been lifted and she was looking right in.  Her style is direct, yet gentle and loving.  She told me it was okay to be sad, that getting hit out of nowhere with a hard day was part of the journey.  She reminded me of a conversation we had shared where I had encouraged her when she was still in the new place of life-after-mom.  I had forgotten that conversation and was surprised that she was now using my own words to lift my heavy spirit.  She described my feelings with detailed clarity, and I wasn’t quite sure what I thought about that.  Her words exposed what I thought I had hidden:  “It feels like everyone has moved on or is moving on, and you’re still stuck in the place of ‘Hey, I’m over here!  This hurts, this sucks and nobody seems to be noticing that my life is not okay right now!!!’   Is that how you’re feeling right now?  If it is, that is normal.  I’ve been right where you are.”

I felt a shiver shimmy down my spine.  “Yes.  Yes, that is exactly how I feel.”

This is the daughter who, on that very sad day, slipped her arm around me as we walked away from the hospital having just said a sudden goodbye to Mom.  As we walked toward our cars, she pulled me close and whispered in my ear, “I am here for you mama…I’ve walked this path.”  This beautiful young woman’s maturity is decades beyond her actual age, something that only comes when you’ve had to walk through grown-up stuff way before you’re supposed to.  Her sensitivity has antennas that catch the slightest change in tone of voice.  Her love will not allow it to go unnoticed.

With my toes dug deep into the sand, waves crashing on the shore in the back drop, I felt the fog of sadness begin to lift. 

I had always dreamed of what it would be like to have daughters.  When beautiful Cori entered my life, it was a match made in Heaven.  She needed a mom…I needed a daughter.  God had definitely gotten this one right.  But what I didn’t know at the time, that I know now is this:  God knew what was coming down the road for me.  He knew that my Mom would be leaving this earth long before I was prepared to say goodbye.  He knew that somehow the hard days wouldn’t be so hard with sweet Cori walking by my side.  Early on I was sure I was the one who would be there for her.  (So arrogant! I told you, over-confident…)  But God had me covered.  I’m not quite sure how He does that, weaving so beautifully the threads of this tapestry we call life.  I’m just glad that He is so intimately tuned into my life that He does not miss one detail.

The beautiful brides have added so much to our family. God has taught me things about life I didn’t even know I needed to know.  Someday I’ll tell you about my other daughter, beautiful Jay.  Her heart spills over with love and compassion, and she is the mommy of my precious grandsons.  You know, it’s funny. I always thought my life was just the way it was supposed to be, the mom of sons, living in the land of men.  I’m so glad God had a better idea.