The Men In My Life

We live in  an era where there are advertisements that

encourage men to be "fathers".

Where women grew up being told,

"It's okay. Your child doesn't need a father. You

can do anything. You can be both parents."

I have many friends who are single mothers, whether by choice or not.

It's a job I could NEVER do. It's hard work to be a parent.  I can't even

begin to imagine doing it alone.

All four of my children were born to single mothers.

When they were removed from their single mother birth homes,

they were placed into single mother foster homes.

None of my children had "fathers".

A few weeks ago, Jon thought it would be great fun to go hiking.

I of course agreed.  Together, we hiked a mountain.

I watched as my husband easily lifted our children onto rocks

they couldn't reach.

I listened as he encouraged them to climb.

I watched him, with our three sons, as they took in the view from the

top of the mountain. I couldn't help but think how

fortunate my children are. Not just that the Lord brought them

to a permanent, loving, stable family, but that He saw

fit to give them a father. A man who loves them more

than he loves himself.  A man who does all the things

Dads do with their kids.  A man, who every day, makes the choice to

be their father.  

Holy Smokers

In the words of the Big K, "Holy

Smokers".  Holy smokers it's been a long

time since I've been on our blog.

We have been busy with the business of living this past fall.

With a more hands on school

schedule, a parade of therapy for Baby J., and

four growing kids, we've been plain ole' busy.

I must confess though, that time isn't the only

thing that's kept me away from the blog.

Fall is hard for me.

It's been almost two years since my Mom died.

Everything about the fall reminds me of her.

It reminds me of before she was sick, when she

found out she was dying, and then that

day, almost two years ago when she went home

to Jesus.

I miss her so much as the leaves change,

as the nights grow chilly,

as the holidays approach.

I miss her so much as we get ready to celebrate the 

adoption of our four children.

I think of how much she loved being a grandmother, and how

much fun she had celebrating EVERYTHING with the kids.

Even after two years, life happens,

and I want to talk with her about it.

Even after two years I miss her advice.

I miss her laugh.

I miss just talking with her about everything.

I miss talking with her about nothing.

I don't think a day goes by when I don't think of her.

Don't wonder what life would be like now,

if she were here.

This year is easier than last.  Next year will be easier than

this one.  I don't believe, though, that I will ever

not miss her, not think of her, not want to talk with her.

As my life moves forward, our children grow, another year

enters it's final months, there is one thing

that I remain FOREVER thankful for.

My family. My husband, our children, the home that 

we've made for them, for us,

and for the love that we all share.

Although a part of my heart is missing, although I 

dread the anniversary of her death, the holidays without her,

I remain eternally thankful for ALL that I have been given.