Dear Brian,
This is so personal that I can't believe I am choosing to write to you about this. I think I am choosing to write to you because even I am surprised by my reaction.
It is "that" time of month for me again right now. Yesterday was the beginning. And you know what? That simple, stupid, regular biological condition makes me miss you so much.
Why?
I have really never missed a cycle in our entire relationship except for when we forced my body to do so during our in-vitro and insemination attempts. I have never been pregnant. I gave up the idea of becoming pregnant several years ago. So WHY THEN would this make me think of you and miss you more?? I can't make sense of it.
Is it because my emotions and hormones are on overload causing me to overreact to everything?
Is it because this biological function reminds me of my own sexuality and the fact that I forever lost my partner?
Is it because it reminds me of the monthly conversation that would ensue after I told you things would have to be "on hold" in the bedroom for a few days because I "started"? You would almost always reply with some sort of sassy "Ah... That makes sense now," or, "Yeah, I kind of figured it was coming" comment to indicate in recent days I had been perhaps less than rational or a bit overemotional. To which I would ALWAYS reply, "Babe, if you THINK I am emotional or PMSing, then it is REALLY UNWISE to point it out." Is it really possible for someone to miss a conversation like THAT?
Is it because this time reminds me of the longing look you would get in your eyes after a few days and the gentle nudge you would give me as you passed by whispering, "Are you close to being done yet?" You always made me feel beautiful, loved and needed. Is it because no one is here making me feel beautiful and loved in an intimate way now?
Or is it simply because it is yet another painful reminder of the fact that despite your absence we cannot stop life from moving on? I can't even stop my own body from moving on.
I don't know the exact reason, but I do know that right now I miss you more than ever. I love you.
KEEP BELIEVING
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
that time of month
Monday, September 22, 2008
The miracle of Gavin
You don’t remember this. How could you? You were in your birth mommy’s tummy. July 2001, JUST prior to heading out of work early for a funeral, I received a phone call at my desk. I’ll never forget it. It was Memaw (to be). “Angie, umm, hey, I wanted to tell you something. Aunt Judy works with a girl who is 4 or 5 months pregnant. She didn’t know she was pregnant until recently. She wants to put the baby up for adoption and is looking for someone. Do you and Brian want to do it?” I kid you not, Gavin. That is how your journey into our lives began. “Mom, I have no idea. I don’t think you can just DO that. I have to talk to Brian about it.” I picked up Daddy for the funeral and told him about this crazy call I got from Memaw today. “Cool,” he said. “Let’s go for it.”
I didn’t even know how to process all of this. I mean, we tried a few cycles of insemination in 2000 to no avail and our first in-vitro attempt in April 2001 failed. Gavin, we had put our deposit down just one week prior to this phone call to try in-vitro again. I mean, who would give a baby to a couple when one of the parents had a history of cancer years ago? I didn’t know it was an option. I didn’t know I wanted to have a family that way. I wanted to carry a baby and didn’t know how I felt about all this.
So we did what we always do in confusing situations. We consulted our families and we prayed. We asked for guidance and wisdom and direction. And we felt vehemently guided to explore this adoption option further.
I made the phone call to Aunt Judy. She told me your birth-mommy, whom I will call Rose, was actually 7 months pregnant, due in September. She was a pretty girl, only 18 and she had been to Catholic Social Services and didn’t like them. They wouldn’t promise her that her baby would go to the family she chose (which was probably misunderstood). She wanted to meet the people and know them. Next I called Rose. I had to call her at work on her next working day since she didn’t have a home or a cell phone. It was a Saturday night. She was sweet with her southern accent and poor grammar. She was willing to meet with us as soon as we wanted. We drove 4-1/2 hours one way the very next day on a Sunday to meet your birth mommy and her husband.
We met at Applebee’s. We ordered chips and salsa. I will never forget how they were in such awe of the blue chips that came with the order. We exchanged pleasantries. We talked a bit. She told us you were a boy. She told us you were due Sept. 14. We told her about Daddy’s history. He had been free of cancer for 2 years now and no more chemo. They were okay with it. We told her about ourselves and our lives. We said we would help with some living and medical expenses and we wanted to adopt her baby if she was okay with it, but to let us know after they had thought about it. They didn’t need to think about it. They said, “Fine with us,” right there in that Applebee’s in July 2001. We stopped and told your future Memaw and Papa and drove 4-1/2 hours home reeling with new emotions.
We secured a lawyer in Missouri where the adoption would occur and began the process of home-study approval in Illinois. It was complicated because of Daddy’ history. We had to be counseled as though we were a possible single parent family and had to get statements of health from current doctors. AND we had to rush the process. You were due in mere weeks. We didn’t even know if we would be approved before your arrival and if you were born before the first of September, we would not have you. You would have been in foster care or you would have been placed with someone else unless your birth mommy wanted to parent you until our paperwork was finished and then let us take over. And come on? She couldn’t have done it. No one could have. You were too irresistible.
I talked with Rose weekly. We financially assisted them. They were an impressionable, sweet and confused young couple living in a world of constant financial struggles with a lack of mentoring and good guidance. It was a vicious cycle that broke our hearts. They were troubled, and even if nothing came through with the adoption, as was always their right, we were glad to be helping them. We wanted to help them.
Fast forward two months. September 10th or so, Rose had an appointment showing she was nowhere near dilated and ready for delivery. She was scheduled for induction on September 20. September 11, 2001, the world trade centers collapsed. I was so glad you weren’t born surrounding that. I was so glad we could drive to the hospital since airlines were shut down for a while. I couldn’t wait to meet you.
September 19th I packed my desk at work, praying I would be on leave (perhaps indefinitely) from a job I didn’t love holding my new baby boy. We drove to Missouri and stayed with Uncle Matt and Aunt Mindi. They lived a few minutes from the hospital. September 20th, early in the morning, Rose was induced. It began slowly. The potossin was increased. They broke her water to speed things up. Around 6:00 pm, the nurses started to get “that look.” That look I had recognized from too many hospital experiences years prior. Your heartbeat was beginning to drop. You were under some sort of distress. I saw the concern, but I don’t think Rose did. I didn’t tell her so as not to alarm her. She was instructed not to push until they called the doctor. They did. The doctor came in and said, “let’s try this.” Rose let us stay. A room full of nurses, nursing students, Rose, her husband, her OB, Daddy and me awaited your delivery. This is the closest I have ever been to delivery and I don’t remember much of it because I was nervous beyond nervous about what came next and what was wrong. As you came out, your face was a tint of blue and the cord was wrapped around your neck. Rose’s doctor immediately cut the cord from your neck and you began whimpering a bit with the next push. You began to scream. You were shivering. You were thin. You were amazing. It brings swells of tears to my eyes today to think I was there and I saw you breathe your first breath.
The staff was unsure how to handle our situation. Who holds you first? Who cuts your cord? Once I saw you were healthy with a reasonable APGAR score, my attention turned to the next thing that could go wrong, because, unfortunately, Gavin, that’s the way your mommy roles. Rose immediately asked to hold her baby once you were clean. She held you and started to cry. My mind raced knowing there was no way she COULDN’T change her mind now that she met you. She held you for a few minutes, turned to me and asked if I wanted to hold you. With tears in my eyes and a half-smile on my face, I touched your flesh for the first time. I said hi to you and told you I would take good care of you. Daddy held you next and we passed you back to your birth-mommy.
Your birth-grandma called. She sobbed into the phone for me to promise to take good care of her grandbaby. She was a bit of an expert on this as another daughter had placed more than one child for adoption as well. This family blessed with the ability to bear children was blessing those of us that can’t. Rose cried some more. Daddy and I left her alone for a few minutes. Daddy began calling his family exclaiming he was a Dad. “Seven pounds 2-1/2 ounces… 20 Inches long… His name is Gavin Brian… Ten fingers... Ten toes... One penis... He’s awesome...” It was all I had to make one phone call to my sister who was currently hosting my parents for dinner. I curtly gave her the stats and the name. I told her Rose was crying and I was really worried she would change her mind. I didn’t know what came next: how long Rose would be in the hospital, when or how we would be able to see Gavin, when the court date would be, etc. I was filled with uncertain emotion. This was the first time I realized that cautious optimism is one of the worst emotions possible.
cautiously optimistic half-smiling, half-empty Angie with Gavin minutes after birth
totally optimistic, full smiling, half-full Brian with Gavin minutes after birth
That’s what we did.
The next day, your birth mommy was released from the hospital. She and I were given arm bracelets that matched yours. She filled out the birth certificate with her name and information. We would fill out another 6 months later. For the next 4 days, you stayed in the hospital despite your thriving health. We were not allowed to take you without a court order. With no agency involved, no one would take that legal liability and rightfully so. We came up to that hospital 3 times a day for 2-3 hours at a time holding you, feeding you, changing your diaper, inspecting you and devouring you. We brought up your Memaw and your Papa and your Aunt Mindi when we knew Rose would not be there, too. Not that we didn’t want them to meet someday, but we didn’t want the pressure of them knowing each other if something fell through. The town is small. We did it to protect everyone.
On Monday morning, September 24th, Rose and her husband signed the papers. We had a court hearing and were given legal custody of Baby Boy Thursday, which is what they called you in our petition for adoption. We went to the hospital with all our documents and met Rose and her husband. There can be no moment more bittersweet. The very event causing my utopia and elation was the darkest moment of Rose’s life. My unending gain was her forever loss. My greatest gift was her ultimate sacrifice. My respect for her decision has grown exponentially over the years. She had every right to parent you, Gavin. She didn’t ‘give you up’ as so many mistakenly claim. No, she gave up herself. 
outside courthouse - Memaw, Angie, Brian, cousin Kim, cousin Jenny, Aunt Judy, cousin Scott, PaPa.
NOW totally optomistic, half-full (cuz we had a court order) FULL smiling first time Mommy!
We stayed in Missouri for a full week until the inter-state documentation could be completed. Mommo and Poppo drove 4 hours to meet you and then back to Illinois. Poppo put together your crib. Mommo painted your room and displayed all the baby things we had acquired cautiously. We had borrowed the car seat, bouncy seat and so many other items to avoid the pain of returning it all if things had unfolded differently. My family all came to meet you and held a baby shower for us. One huge party was thrown in your honor, Gavin. In my family of 25 aunts and uncles and 32 first cousins and multitudes of second cousins, you were the first to enter our family via adoption.
Daddy’s family had a shower for us when we returned to Illinois. Once again, you were celebrated and introduced to a family EVEN larger. Daddy’s family has welcomed several via adoption and we are very familiar with the joy that can accompany such a miracle.
Gavin, this all transpired seven years ago. The emotions surrounding that time were so raw and powerful – both the highs and the lows. Writing them fills me with such admiration and appreciation for your birth family again. It fills me with that first-time-mother uneasiness. It fills me again with the shock of experiencing a new kind of love. So many have asked me throughout the years, “Don’t you feel like he is so lucky to have you? That you saved him?” I reply, “No. There is no doubt Gavin would have ended up loved. So very loved. A birth mom who is willing to do what Rose did for us loves in a way even I can’t understand. No, we didn’t save Gavin. Gavin saved us.”
You came to us in God’s way in God’s time. I have come to understand adoption as an even greater miracle than childbirth. The same timing of a woman and man’s body needs to align. Further yet, an aching family has a need as another family agonizes over an aching decision. Oh how miraculous indeed. What makes our story even more miraculous was our timing – mere months prior, if in-vitro was successful, we would not have YOU. YOU make our family what it is today. Mere days later, we would have been on our next path to in-vitro again. Our paperwork was rushed and finalized a mere 2 weeks before your birth. Had Rose understood the process and had a better counselor at Catholic Services, she probably would have continued on that path. Had Aunt Judy not worked with Rose to begin with, we would not have known about you. Oh, Gavin, God’s hand was SO INVOLVED in this. We were not looking to adopt. Your birth family was not sure they wanted to choose adoption. It was all God’s choice for us. God spoke to Judy’s heart to mention us to Rose. God spoke to Rose’s heart to consider us. God spoke to our hearts to strongly consider this child he created (you). God timed everything perfectly. He even helped finance it. We had spent so many thousands of dollars trying various fertility treatments. Being an open adoption with no agency involved, we had our financial assistance to Rose and our home-study and legal costs. However, they were thousands less than the standard adoption fee of 15% of our gross income. Yes, God led us together as He so expertly does in His infinite wisdom and in His often unconventional ways, and we are humbly grateful for His constant provision in our lives.
KEEP BELIEVING
Sunday, June 22, 2008
The pain that never totally goes away
As you may or may not know, we live in the Midwest. The Midwest is known for a few things – corn, soybeans, corn, flooding, corn and coming into trends about a year after they were trendy. One such trend is the movie Juno.
Brian and I watched Juno last weekend together FINALLY. As I suspected, I found the movie witty, surprising, intelligent, sharp and fun. One reaction that took me off guard, though, was painful. Yes, painful. The movie made me cry. For fear of harsh embarrassment, I held back what were actual sobs inside my body. My head was on Brian’s lap and I found myself crying streams of tears down the side of my face for half the movie.
Why? What about this clever flick could spark such emotion?
The pain of infertility.
I have never given birth. As far as I know, I have never even been pregnant. I have tried to trick my body into being pregnant. I have taken many prescription drugs to convince my body to become pregnant. I have been poked, prodded, tested, squeezed, punctured, scraped, enlarged, starved, etc. – all in desperation to become pregnant.
My children are mine through the womb of another. I have the UTMOST respect and admiration for all birth parents and their difficulty in the decision to choose adoption. Because of these birth parents, my children are mine as yours are yours. There is never a day that I do not feel like their mother. There is never a moment that I do not feel the deep piercing love for those two boys that only a mother can feel. Never.
And I am resolved that we are meant to only have these two boys. I am resolved to the fact that God created these two little boys through the seeds of 4 others to be ours. I REALLY AM SO OKAY WITH THAT.
Why then is it that, out of the blue, something happens to make me yearn and ache?
I have become accustomed to the fleeting moments –
Like when a close friend or relative announces she is expecting, and my internal reaction is a fleeting moment of jealousy and pain. A fleeting moment that seems to last an eternity and I pray they do not see the sting their joy just caused me, because my infertility is not their fault any more than it is my fault. A fleeting moment that gives way to delight, enthusiasm, and excitement for their own good news - for THEIR moment.
Or like when friends and colleagues share birth and pregnancy stories, not realizing, (How could they? Why SHOULD they?) I feel intimidated, embarrassed and insignificant when the topic arises. For a brief moment, I don’t feel female. The feeling soon gives way to general interest in their own personal accounts.
I have become accustomed to those moments and they seem to be fewer.
Sometimes, however, the moment haunts me and lasts for hours. Juno brought out mourning for a part of my life I never expected to forego. A part of my identity as a female. A part of my life I thought was a RIGHT. A part of my life I think I have come to terms with, only to feel a deep surging of anguish overcome my demeanor and resurface the same emotions as the years of unsuccessful conception attempts. My right to carry a child.
I cried tears of resentment when Juno was talking so callously about the pregancy at first. I have never had a positive pregnancy test. I cried tears of jealousy when Juno and her family and friend were watching the ultrasound. The only ultrasounds I have had administered showed the size and quantity of my follicles developing from the fertility drugs - follicles releasing eggs that would never develop into a child. I cried tears of empathy when Jennifer Gardner put her hands on Juno’s stomach to feel the baby move and awkwardly talked to her potential child-to-be, knowing that is the closest she or I would ever come to feeling life begin. I cried tears of understanding at Jennifer Gardner’s guard for the prospect of the adoption falling through - knowing baby showers and shopping trips are for pregnant people only. Adoptive parents have showers AFTER the baby is a sure thing. Then I cried tears of mixed emotions in the hospital - sympathy for Juno and her loss, yet respect at her decision and excitement for Jennifer Gardner and her new beginning. I cried tears of compassion at Juno’s father’s gentleness and counsel telling Juno someday she would be there on her terms. The whole movie sparked emotions in me I once felt so deeply and emotions I thought I had stifled.
I am then reminded that movies like Juno only amplifiy emotions I experience on a regular basis. A resentment I feel at stories like these teenagers and their pregnancy pact and a bitterness that so many of them were so easily successful in their pregnancy attempt. A jealousy when seeing unplanned celebrity pregnancy adorning the covers of most Gossip rags. Ugly, ugly emotions.
Pain.
Will it ever go away completely?
Maybe what I need to come to terms with instead is… no.
KEEP BELIEVING
Friday, May 23, 2008
The post where Angie takes a stand and loses half her readers (and gets a big Heck Yeah! from the other half)
I am a Conservative. I am a Republican. I am a Christian. I believe in Absolute Truth. I believe in the Bible as the written and perfect word of God. It is upon those beliefs that I base my life. It is upon those beliefs, that I have stances and opinions about controversial and socially relevant topics. The other day at church, our pastor did a message on Elijah. Elijah was a great and powerful prophet of God during a day when the Jews were on the fence about Yahweh-God. Jezebel had helped put forth Baal as god and the Jews were getting confused on the subject. 1 Kings 18:21 "Elijah went before the people and said, 'How long will you waver between two opinions? If the LORD is God, follow him; but if Baal is God, follow him.' But the people said nothing." Silence is not something I feel I can live with. I am called not to be silent, so I choose to speak today on my beliefs on certain issues.
Like these:
Jesus. I believe Jesus is the Son of God. I believe He came to this earth to better help us understand the Father God and to help us find a way to God because we as humans were “missing it.” He fulfilled many prophecies and was crucified willingly for our sins. The Jews did not kill Christ. The Romans did not kill Christ. I killed Christ. I kill him a little every day with my sins. He died to save me from those sins so I could accept Him as God and some day spend eternity with Him in Heaven. I believe that anyone who rejects this will not go to heaven. I know MANY MANY MANY MANY (you get the point) people who do not accept this and I love those people and I am saddened that I will not see them in Heaven. I am sure they think I am as crazy as they are for believing this truth. There is no gray area on this for me. Hell is something that we have sort of glorified in our culture today – as a place where naughty things happen with hot fire and brimstone and pitchfork looking cherubs, but it is still fun. However, what I know about Hell is that it is total isolation and separation from God (aka anything good, pure, righteous, true, happy, loving) and is full of lies, deceit, anger, vengeance, and evil. I do not want to spend eternity there and nothing saddens me more than anyone who will. Nothing saddened Jesus more, either. He did not teach us to wish anyone there. He reprimanded his Apostles for wanting to strike down a city that did not welcome them. Reprimanded them because nothing saddens God more than the destruction of those who have not yet accepted his Truth.
Homosexuality: I am not one of those “not that there’s anything wrong with that” kind of people when it comes to this. I believe it is wrong because the Bible tells me it is wrong. If you don’t follow the Bible, I don’t expect this to make any sense to you. I believe homosexuality is a choice. The same way that getting married or not is a choice. The same way that staying true or not true to that person is a choice. The same way that staying married or not married is a choice. All have their pros and cons and all are easy and hard in their own respects. Now, I have lots of choices and I sin daily, too, so I do not think homosexual people are evil, but I do think they are sinning. I do not hate them. I love the sinner; hate the sin just as I hate my own sins. I am not so naïve to think that some are not more prone to struggling with this. Just as some are more prone to dealing with addiction. Just as I am more prone to struggling with impatience, anger, and yelling. God does not hate me for that and does not teach anyone to hate me for it either. God does not hate gays and lesbians. God loves us all equally. He does not love the black man more or less than the white man. God does not love the pastor more or less than the homosexual. Why would I? Just because I am against homosexuality and I voice that, WHY OH WHY would anyone think I am a hater? If anyone calls me a hater for this, then I respond in one of two ways 1) You obviously don’t know me because I don’t hate anyone for what they do or 2) You must be a hater, too, if you feel the need to say such things about me for having an opinion contrary to yours. If someone says I am close-minded, my response is that they are then equally as close-minded for thinking I am wrong and shouldn’t voice my opinion. What frightens me the most about this issue is that people who have contrary opinions to homosexuality are being labeled as haters and are slowly not being allowed to voice their opinions. I do not think it will be long before we are not allowed to voice this at all in some countries and I find that sad and socially repressive and frightening. I do not choose to avoid the topic of homosexuality altogether (if I watch any sort of network television I cant – Law and Order, CSI, ER, Scrubs, Earl, Office – it’s strewn throughout) and I do not choose to avoid gays and lesbians. I don’t know many, which is true. If I did, and I got along with the person and had things in common with the person, they may become my friend if they could handle that I had a belief contrary to theirs. I would hope they don’t hate me for having my beliefs just as I don’t hate them for having their lifestyle. I just think it is wrong. They think I am wrong. It is black and it is white for both sides.
Abortion. I think this one can be more summed up with some pictures. Meet Kevin at 8 weeks in-utero:
According to our laws and society, Kevin is not considered a human being with any rights at this stage. No, Kevin is an extension of his mother’s body and is her right and her choice, not her child. Kevin’s parents were 19 and 21 when he was conceived and unmarried. Kevin’s parents did not choose to view him as a choice, but as the life he was. They also chose to marry and parent. This is Kevin today at 38.
Does this look like a choice to you or a person? At what point in time from 6-8 weeks in-utero when Kevin could have been terminated to the point at which he was birthed, did he become a person and not an extension of his mother’s body – a choice? If Kevin’s parents had not chosen to give him life, Kevin would never be. Kevin’s 3 kids would never be.
Meet Andrew at 8 weeks in-utero. 
Once again, according to our laws and our society, Andrew is not a human being with any basic rights yet, but rather an extension of his mother’s body with which she has any right to handle. Andrew’s parents were both 19 and unmarried when he was conceived. His father was an engineering student and his mother was working full time. Termination of the pregnancy was probably very tempting, however, his parents did not view the above as a choice or a right, but as life. Meet Andrew today at 19:
Andrew is studying Engineering at University of Kentucky. He graduated from high school with a 4.0 and was Valedectorian.
The mother and father that chose life for Kevin, happen to be my mom and dad. Kevin is my brother. The mother and father that chose life for Andrew happen to be Lisa and Kevin, my brother. Andrew is my nephew. If my parents had not chosen life, I would not have the brother I have. If Kevin and Lisa had not chosen life, I would not have my nephew, Andrew. If choice is the voice of reason, shouldn’t Kevin and Andrew have gotten a vote, too? I am going to go out on a limb and venture to guess that there are almost NO in utero babies that would vote for death over a chance for life. Once again this does not mean I hate anyone who has ever had an abortion, nor do I think I am any better. I sin DAILY. I believe abortion is a sin from which we can seek repentance and healing. But, God created every breathing human being differently and the Bible says he knew us when we were in the womb. That life in the womb should have the same basic human rights as those of us out of the womb.
So that about sums up my stand on some very hot topics of today. The reason this came about was because someone named Linda left a comment on Bossy’s post (which I admit grossed me out a bit) the other day stating she was not going to read anymore, she was finished, it just wasn’t worth it anymore. I have no idea what her reasons were. If they were because of a difference of beliefs, then what is so wrong with that? Something tells me if the shoe were dropped differently and Bossy wrote something ultra-conservative and upset some liberals and they said they would stop reading, it wouldn’t have been so controversial and would be considered open-minded and logical. I find a huge double standard in this type of logic and with a lot of liberal beliefs. If you tell me to get the corncob out of my ass from my conservatism, then I will laugh first, toast you with my red wine and tell you to put a band-aid on your bleeding heart from liberalism. I do not consider myself better than you and I hope you don’t consider yourself better than me. We are all equals in the playing field of life.
That being said, many if not most, of the blogs I read regularly are uber-liberal. These people have become my friends and my acquaintances. I find them witty, insightful and hilarious. I find them encouraging and inspirational as well. I love reading Bossy. I love reading Mrs. G, and KatyDidNot and Jenn and Meg, just to name a few, even though I know their political and spiritual beliefs are about as far to the left as I am to the right. I could stop reading them based on this, just as I am sure there will be many that stop reading me based on this today. However, I don’t choose to live in a bubble. I am firm enough in my beliefs to be able to look past and keep reading for the parts that entertain me and inspire me. There are many that are not, though. Either way, is that so wrong?
Anyone left?
*cue crickets chirping*
I'm off the soapbox now. I promise to update on Brian again soon - this weekend as he has some upcoming events.
KEEP BELIEVING
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Our Life Contradicts, beautifully
As you can tell, I have been pretty pensive this week. Mood swings rivaling Faye Dunnaway in Mommy Dearest have plagued me. As we await test results next week, I spend a lot of time thinking. I think a lot about life. I think a lot about the cards with which we as a family have been dealt. I am up and I am down. I usually come to no conclusions except that my life is a bit of an oxymoron, a beautiful oxymoron.
I am a mother of two, yet I have never given birth. Adoption is beautiful.
I have a college degree and years of experience that I do not currently use, yet I am performing the most challenging and rewarding job I have ever filled right here at home. Parenting is beautiful.
I have a husband who was told by several doctors 11 years ago he would not be alive today, yet today he lives. God’s grace is beautiful.
Brian lost years of job promotions and opportunities due to his illness causing us to make tens of thousand less than his peers, yet he has a job that sustains us on our one income. Living within your means is beautiful.
I may not have tomorrow with my husband, yet I have today. Realizing the value of time is beautiful.
We are an unlikely and unrelated group of 4, yet we are a family. Life is beautiful.
KEEP BELIEVING
