This is a picture of my dad with the kiddos on Father’s Day. To you, it might just seem like a happy pic of a Grandfather with some of his Grandchildren; however, I sense an incredible ending to a story started so many years ago.
In 1983, when the sadness entered our lives during my illness, my dad held my hand almost day and night while in the hospital. He sat by my bed, gently rubbed my hand, and said over and over again, “If I could trade places with you, I would.” We had all just plunged into the torrential world of barrenness.
When I look at this picture, this is what I see: an incredible sense of HOPE for the future, an opportunity to pass along life-lessons learned through the years, and in so many ways, I see closure.
I see the Lord’s redemption. I see His promises of love, hope, and a future. I see bloodline disappear, and love take over.
I see a Grandpa who is completely enamored by his Grandchildren.
I know that while the Lord planned my life to include my children, He wrote the script of my parents’ lives to include them as well.
What a happy ending to the sorrow that started so many years ago…
What a way, Lord, to show Yourself in our lives…
What an amazing vision You have given us for our future…
What an incredible sense that after my dad and my mom have gone on to You, these children…these precious souls…will carry a piece of them as they grow into their own place in this world…
If one ever doubts the majesty of a loving Heavenly Father, please take a look at this picture. A Dad who watched his daughter dance on the edge of death, steer her way into the world with barrenness on her shoulders, step into the world of foster care and adoption without knowing what the next step would look like, and approach the courts three times over to prove herself, is the same Grandfather who is enjoying three children whose own lives were majestically penned to be in his.
What a happy ending to the sorrow that started so many years ago…
What a way, Lord, to show Yourself in our lives…
What an amazing vision You have given us for our future…
What an incredible sense that after my dad and my mom have gone on to You, these children…these precious souls…will carry a piece of them as they grow into their own place in this world…
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God, I am swimming in this barren sea without a lighthouse in sight. Keep my head above water. Hold me while I tread in an ocean of pain so deep that I could never touch the bottom. My eyes are searching for land in sight, for a soft place to land, and…for answers that will anchor my soul.
I am drowning in this sea of despair, still yet, I see You. I feel You moving me through the water towards someone or something of significance. You are leading me towards land. Help me, dear Father, to be patient in the journey.
God, I am swimming in this barren sea with only You in sight. Lord, You are my lighthouse, my life-preserver, my anchor, soft place, and the soil to which I will continue my journey.
Father, You keep my head above the water. You relieve the pain that I feel. You lower the tide, soften the blow, and move me in waves of clarity.
God, I am swimming in this barren sea, and You are my lighthouse.
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“What are you doing? Why aren’t you out there?” I asked my son as he sat down next to me during gymnastics practice. My oldest son is a competitive gymnast, and he has newly discovered an emotion in regards to the sport that he has taken up…
FEAR
“I just don’t want to do a back hand-spring. I’m scared” he said. I went on to tell stories about my own fears, and how overcoming them have led to accomplishing fun things – like the first time I tried clip-in cycling shoes and fell over and over again until I got it right. He remembers watching me fall over and over again, and how I put my bike away for a few weeks, until I got it out, clipped in, and rode away determined to not let fear overcome me.
I also asked him, “Is this it? Are you ready to quit?” He shrugged his shoulders, and whispered the word “maybe”. I said, “No. Not like this. Get out there, do your job. You can do it. Once you get it, you will love it. There is nothing to be scared of.”
He finished practice and didn’t mention his fear again. Later in the day, I told him the story of Olympic gymnast Kerri Strug who finished her last vault with a broken ankle, and in doing so, became an Olympic champion. I talked about fear and how sometimes the hardest things we do in life are often not the easiest.
The truth is – this is NOT about gymnastics. It is NOT about if my son will ever go on to be a champion in the sport. No, this is not about these things at all. Instead, it is about teaching my son that when the going gets tough, the tough keep going. In other words, it is about overcoming fears, and accepting challenges. It’s about perseverance.
I’ve thought about this topic often, perhaps more now than I ever have before. Now that I am a mother, I admire the quality that instinctively knows how to teach children about perseverance. It is not an easy task, and yet, it is probably one of the most important character-building values that a parent can teach a child.
This also got me to thinking about my own upbringing, and the lessons learned. One of the greatest gifts my mother ever gave me was not a gift at all. It was not expensive, tangible, collectible, or desired.
It was the gift of perseverance.
Some of my earliest memories of the words my mom spoke to me include the following:
“You can be whatever you want as long as you put your heart into it.”
My mom knows a lot about life not being fair. The youngest of ten children born in the Ozarks (southern Missouri), she experienced a life without a lot of frills. At the age of seven, her daddy suddenly died, leaving behind her mother with children still at home.
After his death, my grandma packed up the kids who were still at home, and moved to the city to find work. Mom has told me of having one pair of shoes per year. She has shared with me about my grandma working three jobs to keep food on the table. Sometimes, mom would come home to an empty house and eat a can of green beans for dinner. She recalls hiding “nice things” from the social worker who stopped by to make sure grandma was not taking advantage of the welfare checks.
As you might be able to imagine, my mom and her siblings did not have the best of things growing up. However, maybe…just maybe, they learned the best characteristics of the human experience. They learned that family is important, hard work is required, and sometimes, life is not fair, but that is not a good enough reason to stop carrying on. They learned the value of perseverance.
After my illness and hysterectomy in 1983, as you can imagine, mom leaned a lot on perseverance. She had to. She had to show me that sometimes life isn’t fair, and you just have to get up and keep going. She also had to abide by the notion that there is a reason behind everything that happens in life, and that God allows things that we do not understand at the time, but one day, these things once thought of as being a cruel twist in life, can turn out to be incredibly strengthening lessons. These lessons, in turn, are amazing blessings.
I remember parts of my time in the hospital, and afterward. I do not remember how it affected my mother, though. I look back at some pictures and can tell she became awfully thin during that time, but otherwise, she was still the same mom as she was before that sadness entered her life, my dad’s, and mine.
She got right back up, day after day, and continued to raise a daughter who learned to believe in setting her heart to the things she wanted to accomplish in life. She taught strength, courage, and perseverance by simply modeling what it is to keep going on in life, to keep putting one foot in front of the other, and to not allow set-backs be an excuse for giving up.
My first birthday following my hysterectomy – 1983.
My mom has faced many giants in her life. The impact of my illness on her, honestly, has been lifelong. It doesn’t take much to provoke a tear out of her when talking about it. Still yet, there’s that resilience….that echo of perseverance that has resonated throughout the years.
As I reflect on my son’s own fear of accomplishing what seems to be a difficult task, I appreciate so much of the unspoken acts of intentional courage that my mother showed to me. I appreciate more than ever the stronghold she displayed when faced with unwavering despair.
Persevering through difficult times, hard choices, moments that take the wind out of you, seemingly simplistic fears, and times when it is hard to discern God’s reasoning, are the times when we, as parents, can make an incredible, life-altering impact on our children’s lives.
Fellow parents, and yet-to-be parents, keep on keeping on. After all is said and done, your courage to persevere will make a lasting impression on your children, and in turn, on future generations.
Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. —Romans 5:2-5
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Psst…Father-in-Waiting….yes, you. It is the weekend you dread, isn’t it? “Happy Father’s Day!” you hear people say to the men around you, but you sit there silent, nodding, and agreeing that, indeed, it should be a happy Father’s day to the men you know. Or, it could be, that it doesn’t matter if it is Father’s Day weekend or not.
It could be that you still continue to count the days until you are a daddy. It could be that you have been to the doctor over and over again with your wife, only to walk out feeling empty. It might just be that you have watched your wife sob the heaviest tears that you could not even carry, even though you have tried.
You are strong. You are trying to carry the weight of this burden, and yet, you do not fully understand it.
You are a Father-in-Waiting.
It just might be that you have explored all of the avenues that would lead you to becoming a parent. You and your wife have been to multiple doctors, invested more money than you want to mention, and have given more emotional energy than you ever thought you could extend. You barely mention it to your friends.
Your co-workers wonder why you are not a daddy yet, and as a defense mechanism, you laugh it off. You make excuses for it. You joke about how you want to stay “Honeymooners forever”, or you speak about being perfectly happy without children. The truth is, though, while you are happy, you still are lost in the confusion about parenthood. You wake-up each day with the desire to see your wife happy. You think, “Maybe soon….maybe one day…”
Your wife comes home from work announcing another’s pregnancy. You get the mail, open it, and see a birth announcement. You attend family reunions and are bombarded with questions about when little ones will be bouncing their way into your life.
Still yet, there you are. You are working so hard to heal your wife’s heart. You get angry. You hold it all in, but you would do anything…anything…to take away her pain. Deep down, you are carrying your own pain, anger and sadness. You long to be a daddy.
You are a Father-in-Waiting.
Psst…Father-in-Waiting….yes, you. These things are what you wife needs:
your attention to her words about the despair she is feeling,
your arms to comfort her when nothing else will,
your assurance that when you said “I do”, it truly was forever…through sickness, through health…through barrenness…through it all,
your compassion, understanding, and empathy,
your patience…your wife is exploring her own uncharted territory of infertility…just like you,
your affirmation that she is still the most beautiful person you have ever met, that her worth is so much more than bringing babies into this world, and that you will always be honored to be her husband,
and lastly, your hope. Keep it up. Keep speaking about your future with children in mind. Even when she loses it, you keep it going.
Parenthood may not come like you want it to. It may visit you through multiple treatments that finally succeed. It may settle itself through the selflessness of your surrogate, or even, to the surprise of no type of intervention. Or, it may come to you through the incredible, unbelievable, awe-inspiring, life-affirming, and glorious blessing of adoption.
No matter how fatherhood comes to you, it is still the most incredible gift. Celebrate it. Cherish it. Do not stay caught up in the facts of the struggle to be a daddy. Instead, stay engaged in the miracle of fatherhood.
Psst…Father-in-Waiting….yes, you. Happy Father’s Day. Happy moment when your wife walks out of the bathroom holding the test that finally comes true. Happy time when the doctor explains that everything is looking good, and there is not anything to worry about . Happy moment when you see the ultrasound, you hear the heartbeat, and you start to imagine yourself as a daddy. Happy time when her water breaks, you rush to the hospital, and you hold a part of your heart for the first time.
Psst…Father-in-Waiting….yes, you. Happy moment when you receive the call that you have been selected by a birth mother. Happy time when you first meet her, talk about your child’s future, and hug her for the first time. Happy time when you watch your wife meet the birth mother of her future child. Happy breath-taking time when you rush to the hospital, hold both your wife’s hand, and the hand of the birth mother. Happy incredible instant when you lift up the gift of life that has been given to you.
Psst…Father-in-Waiting….yes, you. Happy time when you signed on the dotted line that confirms you are a foster daddy. Happy, yet painful moment, when the little one arrives on your doorstep, you hear about the plight of the little one and birth parents that have entered your life, and you sway whatever way the “case” is swaying. Happy occasion when you enter in the courtroom, get acknowledged by the Judge, and learn of the future of the babe in your care. Happy incredible, breath-taking, exhilarating, yet humbling day you learn that biological parent rights are terminated. Happy second that the gavel falls declaring you as a forever daddy.
Psst…Father-in-Waiting….yes, you. Stay true. Stay strong. Stay the husband you swore to be. Hold your wife. Listen to her, and allow yourself to speak about your own journey.
Psst…Father-in-Waiting….yes, you.
Happy day when you will no longer be a Father-in-Waiting.
Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.” -Joshua 1:9
*Author’s Note: Sunday, June 15th is Father’s Day in the United States. I wrote this to be an encouragement for all of the Father’s-in-Waiting.
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It is that time of year again, isn’t it? The day where mothers are celebrated, loved on, and honored. You are already thinking about this upcoming Sunday. You are dreading sitting in church, listening to the sermon about motherhood, and watching people clap for the all of the mothers who stand up in the congregation. You know that little by little, your heart will collapse upon itself.
You are sick and tired of being sick and tired of worrying about motherhood. You hear people say, “Just stop trying and it will happen”, “God has a plan for everyone”, “Relax, it will happen when it is supposed to”, or “You can always adopt”. The truth is, sometimes, you just want to scream out when people say these things to you. You want for them to not just hear the binding pain you have experienced through the barren walk…you want them to feel the crunching of your bones, the twisting of your guts, the dryness of your spirit, and the haunting of your hopes.
You are a Momma-in-Waiting, and you are tired of being one.
Pssst…Hey momma-in-waiting. Yes, you….
You dread this time of year. You watch kids pick out Mother’s Day cards in the stores. You see social media posts about the simple gifts given to momma’s by their wide-eyed babes, and you “like” them out of courtesy. Sometimes, though, you would rather ignore them. Sometimes, just sometimes, you despise them.
How could it be that you are still a Momma-in-Waiting? Why has another Mother’s Day crept up on you without any difference from the years gone by? Anymore, it is often that you have forgotten to ask when it will happen. Instead, you are surrendering to the emptiness of unanswered why’s.
You are a Momma-in-Waiting, and you are longing for an answer.
Pssst…Hey momma-in-waiting. Yes, you….
There is something special about you. You are strong, courageous, patient, and hopeful. You choose to keep your pain to yourself because you do not want to dampen other mother’s experiences. Instead, you hold it in, take it home, and unleash it into your pillow, your prayers, and your tears.
Only the other Momma’s-in-Waiting will ever understand the path you are on. Despite the attempts of your friends and families to empathize, you know this desert you have found yourself in, is unlike any other. It is a dry place. It is a woeful place. It is an agonizing place. Still yet, it is also a place where hope seeps into your clutch.
You are a Momma-in-Waiting, and even though you despair, you also carry a burning torch of hope for your future.
Pssst…Hey momma-in-waiting. Yes, you….
You are a Momma waiting on her children to arrive. You do not know how or when, but you are starting to visualize them. You have cried out their names to the Lord (even if you don’t know them). You have hung their images in your mind. You have engraved their stories onto your heart, and you have included your own story of being a Momma-in-Waiting.
So, Happy Future Mother’s Day, Momma-in-Waiting.
Happy first time you look upon your children’s faces, or the moment when your children call you Momma for the first time,
Happy first time they tell you that they love you, or snuggle up next to you in the middle of the night,
Happy first time you hear the pitter-patter of their feet,
Happy first and forever moment you look into their eyes and see yourself,
Happy glorious moment when everything makes sense,
Happy instant when you look at your scars (physical and/or emotional) and no longer see the pain they harbor,
Happy breathtaking time when you know the Lord carried you through it all,
and,
Happy day when you will no longer be a Momma-in-Waiting.
But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. – Isaiah 40:31
*Author’s Note: Sunday, May 11th is Mother’s Day in the United States. I wrote this to be an encouragement for all of the Momma’s-in-Waiting.
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While watching my oldest son compete in his last gymnastics competition of the year, my dad struck up a conversation with the lady sitting next to him. As usual, he bragged about his grandchildren.
As I was off taking pictures, the conversation between my dad and the lady turned into one about adoption. He learned that two out of her four children were adopted. When I returned to sit down, he shared about their conversation. As she and I sat and visited for a bit, I learned a brief history about her adoptions, and I shared a bit about mine.
Similar to new mothers sharing birthing stories, I found myself enjoying this kindred conversation. Both of us marveled at our sons. We both shared with joy in thinking about what our kids have accomplished given their difficult entries to our world. We also both expressed great gladness in being adoptive parents.
This experience reminded me of this quote by Valerie Harper,
“However motherhood comes to you, it’s a miracle.”
This day, I give praise for the miraculous, wonderful gift of motherhood.
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Over the past year or so, we have played the “I’m sorry” and “I’m thankful” game around the dinner table at meal times. We take turns telling what we are thankful for, and apologizing for the things we have done during the week that might have hurt someone’s feelings, or broken a rule.
The great thing about this game is that we get to hear our children admit wrongdoings, even when we were not fully aware of them. It is also nice to hear them say they are sorry. Perhaps, though, the best lesson of all is that we can fully admit when we have done something wrong, made a bad choice, or have not been as patient as we should have been with our children, and each other. This lesson is valuable for our children, and more importantly, it is humbling for us.
Recently during dinner, my daughter started the game, and we all went around and said sorry for the little things we did during the week that may have hurt each other’s feelings, or perhaps, caused more stress on our family unit. After this, we went around and spoke about the things we were thankful for.
My son: “I’m thankful for my family and the food we have.”
The baby: “…..some nodding of his head….”
My husband: “I’m thankful that we have each other.”
Myself: “I’m thankful that in this cold weather, we have a warm home to live in.”
My daughter: “I’m thankful….(starts to tear up)….I’m thankful for mommy and daddy.”
I took another turn and said, “I’m thankful for having a daughter, and for this moment right now.”
After I said this, my daughter took off running to her bedroom. I left her alone in her room for a minute, and then decided to check on her. I found her lying in her bed with tears rolling down her cheeks.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” I asked.
“A long, long time ago when I was in my birth mom’s belly, I heard (our son) tell you that he will miss you if you die.”
As the tears came barreling down her cheeks, she said, “I will miss you if you die, and you are the best parents ever.”
My daughter has talked often about knowing us while in her birth mother’s belly. I cannot even begin to comprehend what runs through an adopted child’s mind, or heart.
On the one side, it gives me great joy to think about the opportunities in life that are present and available when children are placed into families whose deepest desires are to bring in a child to love wholly, celebrate, and give life-changing open doors to. On the other, and with a twinge of protective sadness, I think about just how much an adopted child wonders about their birth families, what life would have been like in their families of origin, and if they were loved by birth parents.
I do not have all of the answers, and will never have them. Like most parents, I want the best for my children. I want my children to be understood, nurtured by those around them, to passionately seek out the things in life that give laughter to their souls, and to be able to look back on life with a full measure of contentment.
As an adoptive parent, though, I recognize that there might always be an unfulfilled space where questions linger and thoughts go unrecognized. In other words, I know that there could be an empty place in my children’s lives that can only be filled with answers to which I may never be able to give them.
Adoptive parenting is both joy and loss, and sweetness and sorrow at the same time.
I have seen that some people who are parents through adoption have revolted (if you want to call it that) against the word adoptive being in front of the word parent. I get it. To my children, I am not “Adoptive Mommy”, I’m “Mommy”. I am not “Adoptive Tear-Drier, Adoptive Cheerleader, and Adoptive Caretaker.” I am tear-drier, cheerleader, and caretaker.
But, the truth is, my babies grew in another’s body. The fact that they grew in another mother’s womb, and are being cared for by me as their mother, does not fall lightly in my thoughts.
I think it is a privilege and incredible honor to call myself an adoptive mother.
It is not a subtitle, or secondary description.
Being an adoptive mother is profound.
It is the unique experience that lends one’s heart to the belief that our children were chosen for us, and we were chosen for them.
Today, while thinking about my children, I whispered this to the Lord,
“Thank you for these moments right now of being a parent.”
Motherhood is a gift.
Adoptive motherhood is even more of a gift, and for that, I am thankful.
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I saw you the other day. I saw the longing in your eyes. I recognized the deep searching that your heart is doing. You are waiting for a soft place for your heart to land. You are on a quest to end the night to which you have been waking up to.
You are a Momma without a child. You are a Momma-in-Waiting.
You see the images of the babes of others splattered all over social media. You watch new mothers at the park. You greet the new babies at church with love, but while you do, your heart feels as though it is being ripped from your chest. You read the headlines about others who do not seem to care about the very thing that you long for.
You know there are Momma-less children in the world; and yet, you feel as though every door you try to open remains unlocked. You also know that there are children-less Momma’s in the world; and yet, you feel completely alone.
You get angry. You question. You feel sorry for yourself. You keep it to yourself. You are a Momma without a child. You are a Momma-in-Waiting.
Pssst…Hey Momma-in-Waiting. Yes, you….
You are backed into a corner where your faith and your frailness collide. Still, in this waiting time, there is great beauty. You…Momma-in-Waiting…You know full well the magnitude of the gift of life. You know every measure of importance that children are to our lives, and to this world. You…Momma-in-Waiting…You do not take anything or anyone for granted, anymore.
It may not feel like it now, but there is much to be gained while waiting. There are moments that cut and sear your heart. There are moments when doubt about your purpose, or better yet, His purpose seems to cling onto you. There are times when you feel as though your heart will never recover, and your tears seem to flood any attempt to see life with clarity.
You question. You seek. You wonder. You wait. You are a Momma without a child. You are a Momma-in-Waiting.
Pssst…Hey Momma-in-Waiting. Yes, you….
You have made a pledge to yourself. You have promised that once you no longer are in waiting, you will be the best Momma around. You are already visualizing the moment you see your child for the first time. You are already thinking about parties, nursery decorations, and announcements. You may have even, in anticipation, tucked away a picture or item you will use once your wait is over.
In this waiting period, although sorrowful at times, there is great beauty. There is coloring of the memories to come, prayers for the child who will be joining you, and soul-deepening conversations with the One who hears the deepest, and often unspoken, hunger of your heart.
You pray. You plead. You visualize. You cling. You are a Momma without a child. You are a Momma-in-Waiting.
Pssst…Hey Momma-in-Waiting. Yes, you….
You do not understand why you are waiting. You wonder if you did something wrong, or perhaps, just perhaps, you are holding onto the promise of something incredible in store. Your faith and strength is unwavering. Did you hear that, Momma-in-Waiting? YOUR FAITH AND YOUR STRENGTH IS UNWAVERING.
No one knows how you walk each day with an armor of courage, shield of strength, and heart of hope. No one fully understands how this life experience has shaped you, grieved you, changed you, and matured your heart to the calling of His voice. Only the other Momma’s-in-Waiting who share in this journey of walking through the wasteland, will ever understand it.
You have courage. You are strong. You do not lose hope. You are a Momma without a child. You are a Momma-in-Waiting.
Pssst…Hey Momma-in-Waiting. Yes, you….
I used to be a Momma-in-Waiting. I used to greet the new babies at church with quiet happiness, while harboring the sadness in my heart. I used to feel alone. I once battled between my faith and my frailness. Doubt seemed to wrap around me
I questioned if I deserved barrenness. I wondered if there was a daybreak in sight to the endless night to which I had succumbed. I fantasized about my babies. I decorated their rooms in my head. I clung onto the intense prayers to our Lord.
I look back now, and I recognize the incredible beauty of the wait. I know that my armor of courage, shield of strength, and heart of hope kept me going each day. My experience shaped me, grieved me, changed me, and matured my heart to Him.
Pssst…Hey Momma-in-Waiting. Yes, you….
My head was lifted, and so will yours. My eyes were dried, and so will yours.
Soon, yes, soon….You will no longer be a momma-in-waiting.
I have run across some Facebook statuses, blog posts, and other humorous social media updates that point to all of the benefits of choosing a life free of the “burden” of parenting. While I understand where the authors of these posts are coming from, and even, the convenience in many ways of not having children, I have weighed the benefits of a life with children versus one without.
My husband and I had the choice to pursue parenthood. There would be no “accidental” pregnancies in our lives. I am infertile. He knew that going into our marriage. This is something that would not change. We also had the choice to pursue a life without children. We could have stayed in our quaint two bedroom cobblestone front home, and traveled the world. We could have spent our lives on a seemingly perpetual date.
We did not choose this, though. We pursued adoption because we wanted to share in the experience of parenting. Because of this, I’ve come up with some simple, and yet relevant, reasons why life with children (however they come to you) is the best thing ever.
Once you become a parent,
you begin to value the simple things in life.
you are suddenly thrust into a world of humility.
you learn that there is nothing more satisfying than self-sacrifice.
you are gifted with simplistic examples of love.
you are reminded that grace is a gift freely given, and one that you need to work on giving.
your life is enhanced in ways that you never thought was possible.
the artwork on the refrigerator is the most priceless piece of work you have ever seen.
your own health becomes more important.
you are given the gift of multiple second chances by the same little humans who love you, need you, and whose life is dependent on you.
you work harder, sleep less, and do not regret either of these.
your heart; the one that has led your decisions throughout your life, is now being led, moved, and persuaded by the little beating hearts walking right next to you.
you are reminded that each day brings a new opportunity to start again, learn something new, correct a bad habit, and let your imagine soar.
you are surrounded by the opportunity to remember and embrace those magical moments of your own childhood.
you are reminded of how hard your parents must have worked to raise you, provide for you, and give you a life of opportunity. Or, in some situations, you are reminded of how void your childhood was; thus, you are being the change needed in the next generation of children in your family.
you gain a simplistic and innocent sense of humor. (All it takes in the mispronunciation of one word by your child, and suddenly, you are giggling.)
you know that the most important job you have is being a parent. You defend it. You protect it. You speak up for it, and, you are proud of it.
you know you are the most important person to your children, and by this, you are nearly overwhelmed with unspeakable love.
you are greeted with happiness, told that you are loved, and freely given tokens of love on a daily basis.
every moment of life, from going through a car wash to traveling to an adventurous destination, is filled with excitement and exhilaration.
you begin to see glimpses of your own future, and you fight for it. You whisper hope into the ears of your children. You teach them to love without judgment, and dream without borders. You tell them that the world is open for them, and to seize their dreams. You long for them to embrace their own sense of the world, and yet, you hope they do not forget where home is.
I used to think, or at least give off the impression, that life would be okay without children. Deep down, though, I knew I was missing out. I grieved for something to which I did not even fully understand. I just knew that I did not want to enter into my Heavenly home with missing the valuable experience of being a parent.
When I see the Facebook statuses, blog posts, and other humorous social media updates that depict why a life without children is better than a life with children, I find myself defending the plight of parents, the needs of all of those babies who have made their way to our lives, and the hope of our future. I could go on and on about the importance, hardship, yet joy of life with children.
As a child, I was not promised parenthood. I actually never visualized it. Instead, I hoped for it. I prayed for it. And now, at the age of forty-two and thinking through the past thirty-one years of my life, I cannot imagine not fighting for parenthood.
My friend, if you are reading this wondering if you should get pregnant, pursue IVF, become a foster parent, adopt, or, if you should choose a life without children, I want to tell you that there is nothing more challenging, yet, more incredibly rewarding than being a parent.
I will never stop challenging those who consider children as less important in our world. Sure, movies may be easier to watch, going out to eat might be a little more quiet, traveling may be relaxing and exotic, and you may have more down time to sleep in, and embrace your own hobbies, but this blogger, this parent, and this child of God, will always support the case for kids.
Sons are a heritage from the LORD, children a reward from him. Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are sons born in one’s youth. Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them. They will not be put to shame when they contend with their enemies in the gate. -Psalm 127: 3-5
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Are you sitting here on Valentine’s Day staring at your computer screen and wondering if you will ever be blessed with the love of a child? Are you? Valentine’s is meant for lovers, but do you wonder if you will ever be able to make a Valentine’s box for a child, send pink roses to a daughter, or even, make cookies that spell out your children’s names? I wondered that too. I wondered if I could pass along the traditions of my own childhood that my mother lovingly passed on to me.
Dear friend,
If you are sitting here at the computer wondering about your future Valentine’s Day, I hope you don’t give up. I hope you visualize a future staying up late so that the Valentine boxes are just perfect, rushing through the doors at school so that you make it to the Valentine party on time, and sharing in way too much chocolate with the little ones in your home.
If you are sitting here staring at the computer, I want you to know something. The Lord is not through with you. He will not be through with you until you draw your last breath. YOU have captured His heart. YOU are His Love. YOU are the sweetest thing to Him. YOU are His child.
I took another turn and said, “I’m thankful for having a daughter, and for this moment right now.” 
Sons are a heritage from the LORD, children a reward 
BARREN TO BLESSED 