“She loved them so much that she felt a kind of hollowness on the inner surface of her arms whenever she looked at them - an ache of longing to pull them close and hold them tight against her.” ~ Anne Tyler

I'm sitting here in the airport in Nashville, TN on this cold, rainy morning awaiting my flight home that departs in a few hours.  Ryan dropped me off early on his way to work this morning.  I've been here before.  Sitting in this same airport waiting to board a flight to return to my life in Tyler after spending time with Sarah and her precious family.  The feeling is always the same - looking forward to being home with Jeff again, but feeling a deep ache to the core of my soul for what I'm leaving behind.

I've been here for three weeks this time, and honestly, I'm beyond exhausted.  It has been a whirlwind of constant activity and little sleep with a silly, sweet, imaginative, talkative four-year-old girl who asks "Why?" after every statement (and I do mean EVERY single one); a rambunctious, charming, energetic, all-boy two-year-old whose current favorite word is "mine;" and a precious, cuddly newborn baby boy who thinks that long sleep stretches should happen only during the day and never at night.  Over the past three weeks, I have often wondered how I did the mothering thing full-time to two-year-old twins and a newborn.  The only feasible answer I've come up with is that I was much younger then.

But as exhausting as this month has been, I would do it all over again in a heartbeat, and I would even gladly stay another three weeks if I was really needed.

My love for my three children is all-consuming, even as they have reached adulthood.  My heart walks around outside of my body in three different places at all times through them, and no matter how old they get, it will always be that way.  If you are a mother you know exactly what I'm talking about.

And now, my grandchildren have added an entirely new dimension.  I look at the three I've just spent time with and see glimpses of the past.  Although Lydia doesn't physically look like Sarah did at four years old, the personality is very much the same.  I look at Henry, and I'm reminded of a little boy named Caleb - the resemblance between those two is uncanny.  And as I've held and rocked Owen the past few weeks, I've seen glimpses of both Lydia and Henry.  But as much as they remind me of the past, they add such joy to the present, and so much hope for the future.  They help me to remember to live in the moment, to enjoy the simple things, to take life a day at a time, and that there's always time to laugh and be silly.  They are the fun that my own children were, without the weight of the daily parenting responsibility and with the added bonus of patience that can only come with age.

While talking with an older lady recently about grandchildren, I was surprised to hear her say that "the first one is special."  She went on to say that she knew I would enjoy my other grandchildren, but that the first one was in a class all their own.  I disagree.  Henry and Owen (and soon, Noah) are just as special as Lydia.  And as I've had time to hold, snuggle, and rock Owen in these first weeks of his life, the feelings have been as intense as they were when I held and rocked Lydia and Henry.  I am overwhelmed each time at how blessed I am - blessed to have godly children who are seeking to live and love like Christ, and who are dedicated to raising their children to do the same.

I love the quote I used as the title above.  And although I'm feeling that hollowness on the inner surface of my arms whose emptiness is currently producing a longing ache, I am also feeling a full heart of thankfulness to God for this life I have - a blessed life as a wife, mom, and Mimi that I would not trade for anything.

I'm thankful as well for a few weeks of rest before Mimi duty resumes in Midland as we welcome Noah into the family.  This Mimi can't wait.

"Through the blur, I wondered if I was alone or if other parents felt the same way I did - that everything involving our children was painful in some way. The emotions, whether they were joy, sorrow, love or pride, were so deep and sharp that in the end they left you raw, exposed and yes, in pain. The human heart was not designed to beat outside the human body and yet, each child represented just that - a parent's heart bared, beating forever outside its chest.” ~Debra Ginsberg

It happened several weeks ago as I was driving.  My phone pinged three different times.  I pulled into my destination parking lot, killed the engine, and looked at my phone.  I had three messages - one from each child.  And in that one moment, as I read each one, I simultaneously felt sorrow that brought tears, joy that made me laugh, and pride which made me rejoice.  I sat there thinking, "This is so weird!" How could I possibly feel all of that at the same time?

Three different children - who, by the way, aren't children anymore - in three different cities, three different settings, three different lives, experiencing three entirely different sets of circumstances, and within a few minutes of each other, they coincidentally happened to share those moments with me.

I've been at it for almost 29 years now, and it still amazes me - this journey of motherhood.  There's so much I did not know when I first began - so many things that no one can tell you.  Sure, I had observed others, read all the books I could get my hands on, and discussed parenting philosophies with my friends.  But until you actually experience it yourself, there's no way you can really get it.  What amazes me even more is with 29 years under my belt I'm still learning.

I remember the morning in the hospital when it was time to take our brand new baby girls home.  Jeff had gone to take care of some paperwork, and I was alone in the hospital room with these two tiny baby girls when it hit me - THEY were going home with ME.  And none of the nurses would be going with us.  I felt overwhelmed by the responsibility before me - not only to take care of their physical needs but to also provide all they would need to grow into responsible adults.  Even more sobering was the task before me to teach them to love God and to point their sweet, innocent souls toward heaven.

Lisa Wingate wrote, "Your children are the greatest gift God will give to you, and their souls the heaviest responsibility He will place in your hands.  Take time with them, teach them to have faith in God.  Be a person in whom they can have faith.  When you are old, nothing else you've done will have mattered as much."  That last sentence is especially key for me - truly, nothing else I have done - or will ever do - matters nearly as much.

I try not to give advice unless it is solicited.  But as we are all more keenly aware of motherhood this weekend, I offer the quote above as a good guideline to those of you who are in the midst of the formative years of your children.  The soul that began inside of you - or inside of a birth mother who relinquished that responsibility to you - will live eternally.  Ultimately we are each responsible before God for our own choices, and even a child who has been given all of the love and godly direction possible can (and sometimes does) choose to forsake that teaching.  But how we as parents handle those precious souls in establishing priorities in our homes will greatly impact their future choices.  I want my children to always choose God, don't you?  There's nothing else in this world that matters more to me than seeing my children someday in heaven. 

Three kids, in three different cities, with three very distinct lives, experiencing three diverse circumstances simultaneously causing their mom to laugh, cry, and rejoice all at once.  How?  Because they each have a very big chunk of their mother's heart so closely entwined with theirs that I physically FEEL every emotion from every life circumstance that comes their way.  Sometimes that is wonderful and brings me so much joy!  And yes, other times my heart breaks and tears flow.  And the best part of it all for me is that they all three put God first in their lives and are spreading His light to everyone their lives touch. 

John wrote in 3 John 4, "I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth."  I think of that verse often.  Even amidst the sorrow and heartache that sometimes comes from events in their lives, and the regret I sometimes feel over things I think I could've done better, THAT joy and assurance override all other emotions.

So if you're a mom on this Mother's Day weekend, I hope you'll thank God for your children, and that we will all resolve to do our best to point our kids to Him.  And to Sarah, Becca, and Caleb - thank you for being who you are!  I am honored and humbled to be your mom, and I am so very proud of each one of you.  I'm overwhelmed that God chose ME to be YOUR mom - He truly gave me the best!

"Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore." ~Dorothy in "The Wizard of Oz"

I've felt like Dorothy since Wednesday when Jeff and I flew to Las Vegas - my first visit here, and probably my last.  Honestly, I'm ok with that.  Jeff was sent here by his company to attend the Consumer Electronics Show, and he asked me if I would like to come with him.  Yes, I knew of the reputation of Las Vegas, and I knew I would likely see a lot of gambling and such, but I really thought I could be here and successfully avoid most of that - boy was I ever wrong.

Our trip actually started out magnificently!  As we flew west from DFW, we encountered some beautiful sights on a partly cloudy day over New Mexico and Arizona that screamed of the power and might of our Holy Creator.  So much beauty that left me in awe.  As I snapped photos out of the airplane window, I was overcome with how these pictures just did not do justice to the sights I was blessed to see below.

We saw snow-capped mountains as we flew over the San Mateo mountain range in New Mexico.                                             We viewed the beauty and peacefulness of Lake

Mead as we made our approach into Las Vegas.  Due to the increased cloud cover in parts of Arizona, we were not able to see the Grand Canyon from the air - but I knew it was just below us.

As I contemplated these wonders, I thought of passages such as Psalm 95:4, "In His hand are the depths of the earth, and the mountain peaks belong to Him."  And also Romans 1:20, "For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse."  These are the thoughts that filled my mind as we landed in Las Vegas, along with how greatly blessed I feel to be a child of the Almighty God.

Then we got off the plane, and we walked into the Las Vegas Airport to scenes such as these...                                 
Slot machines, located right at the exit from the plane.  You can immediately begin gambling before you even go to baggage claim, and they make it easy for you. 

Then - still not to baggage claim yet - I stopped in the restroom, and I saw this sign on the back of a stall door - an offer of help to victims of human trafficking.  Such a plea to someone in the ladies' restroom wouldn't be there if this was not a problem.  I immediately thought of how Las Vegas is referred to as "Sin City." I had only been here for 15 minutes or so, and I could already see why.

What a stark contrast from the beauty my Holy Creator had displayed for my viewing just minutes before.

We took an Uber from the airport the short distance to the hotel where we are staying, and the debauchery continued.  Hotels here are set up in such a way that you cannot get to your room, to restaurants, or anywhere else in the hotel without walking through the smoke-filled casinos.  By Wednesday night, I was beginning to think I had made a big mistake in coming.

It hasn't been all bad - I mean, how can you minimize the greatness of M&M World (all four stories of it) just down the street, not to mention Hershey World a block away!  The food we've eaten has been amazing, and last night we saw Cirque du Soleil perform an unbelievable show.  It has also been nice to have some "away" time with Jeff, along with some time to rest away from the always long "to do" lists of home, enjoying all of the perks that go with staying in a nice hotel.  And Jeff has enjoyed his time at the CES, seeing some amazing innovative ideas in electronics. 

I realize my exposure here has been extremely limited, and I'm sure there are other good things and good, godly people in parts of this city that I have not seen.  But for the most part, it has just been sad to me to see the mass of humanity that pursues futile attempts to find pleasure and fulfillment in nothing but ungodliness. 

Yes, Dorothy, you are right  - we're not in Kansas anymore, and we are definitely not in East Texas.  We fly home tomorrow and I am ready.  Ready to be back in the conservative 'Bible Belt" where most people have some sense of the need to acknowledge a Higher Power and seek to serve Him.  This brief trip to "Sin City" has made me more aware and thankful for the godly home I was raised in, the godly people in my little world, and God's providential care that has continually blessed me in unimaginable ways throughout my life - mostly through the abundant life He has given me through the blood of His Son.  He offers that to everyone.  I hope you are enjoying that, too.

"Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked, nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers; but his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers."  ~Psalm 1:1-3

“No human counsel hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God.” ~Abraham Lincoln

Yesterday I began cooking for our Thanksgiving meal which we will enjoy later today.  As I busily messed up my kitchen, I ran across my Granny's handwritten recipe for Candied Sweet Potatoes, splattered with evidence of past use.  I don't use this recipe much anymore - making enough to feed our crew requires doubling the recipe, which would mean adding six cups of sugar.  We prefer to reserve that amount of sugar intake for dessert!  But as a kid, this was by far my favorite part of any holiday meal at Granny's house.

As I read through Granny's neat script yesterday, I smiled at her last sentence - "Pour into bowl and eat like crazy - Ha!"  I can still hear Granny's voice and distinctive chuckle as I read that, and I miss her.

Thanksgiving is a trigger for many such memories.  As a kid, we would always go to Granny's house where she had so much food that it wouldn't all fit on the table.  She would have various overflow dishes scattered around on end tables, the top of the TV, and even on the floor.  She insisted on having everyone's favorites, which were different for everyone. And that was just the meal - she also prepared as many different desserts as there were people, because again - she wanted everyone to have their favorite.  For many years, I was the youngest grandchild in attendance, so I was relegated to sitting on a stool that was too tall for the table, on the end so that my left-handed self did not impede anyone else's meal-eating efficiency.

Eventually, my aunt and uncle helped me out with this by adding my younger cousin to the mix, and I still remember the day he was finally old enough to take over the position on the dreaded stool, and I graduated to a normal chair - what a day!

Most Thanksgivings, after we somewhat recovered from our food comas, we would go out to Uncle Bryan and Aunt Mary's house in the country.  I would go on a walk through the woods with my Daddy, enjoying the crispness of the fall air and the beauty of the changing leaves.

And just like those changing leaves, years passed and life changed.  Eventually, Granny got too old to prepare our Thanksgiving feast, and the yearly celebration was moved to my parents' house.  Then we all grew up and moved away, so we began our own rotation of Thanksgivings spent with our own parents/siblings and those spent with our new families.  I remember the first Thanksgiving I spent in Austin with Jeff's family, and the feeling that it was all wrong - their food and traditions were different from those of my family, and for the first time in my life, there was no dish of Granny's Candied Sweet Potatoes on the table.  But, I adjusted and enjoyed the new dishes, traditions, and people who were now also a part of my family.

Eventually, our children came and grew, older family members passed away, and new plans and traditions were born.  We transitioned from having Thanksgiving meals at grandparent tables to having them at our table.  Our siblings did the same.  And now, things have changed again as our children are grown and beginning families of their own.

Today, our two girls, two bonus sons, and our two grandchildren are in other places.  Sarah, Ryan, Lydia, and Henry are spending their Thanksgiving hosting friends in Tennessee.  Becca and Jeff are celebrating in Indiana with Jeff's family.  Caleb is here, and we will be enjoying a meal with several of our spiritual family later today - two of whom we will meet for the first time when they enter our home to share our meal together - - one of the great blessings of being a part of God's family!

All of the thoughts of Thanksgiving and looking back made me realize that holidays are sort of a microcosm of life.  We are born into certain traditions, and some days are bigger than others - like the days we graduate from the stool or the times when we are painfully aware of the empty chair that was filled in previous years.  We enjoy new additions to the table through marriage and birth, and sometimes we even transition to a totally different table.  Our roles in the event change over time as well - from consumer to producer, and eventually back to consumer.  And interspersed throughout all of the laughter and tears, joy and loneliness, happiness and heartache, celebrations and mundane, runs the common thread of love and family.

So, Happy Thanksgiving!  Wherever you find yourself today, I hope you will feel as loved and overwhelmingly blessed as I do.

“Loving others isn't about us at all. And until that sinks in, we'll never be able to love the way Christ truly loved.” ~Jarrid Wilson

October 11, 2003 - 15 years ago today - ended the worst week of my life.  Five days earlier, my 68-year-old active, healthy daddy went to his deer lease, fell out of a tree, and died within minutes of his fall.  Events of that week are burned into my memory forever.

I remember the phone call from my brother, who told me what had happened.  I can tell you word-for-word, even now - 15 years later, exactly what he said.  I remember telling my 13 and 10-year-old children that their Papa was dead.  I remember the hour-long drive on a warm, foggy night to my mother's house where I had to tell her the same horrible news.  I remember making phone calls from her house, and my brother arriving late that night with Daddy's cap, wallet, and glasses which were still damp from the rain that had fallen earlier that day before his body was discovered.  I remember a sleepless night in the room I had grown up in and then rising the next day, driving a few miles with my brother to the nursing home where my Granny resided and telling her that her only living son was dead.  I remember a phone call from the coroner, and a trip later that day to the funeral home where we made those arrangements, chose a coffin and wrote an obituary.  I remember the next day, going once again to the funeral home, and viewing my daddy's lifeless body for the first time.  I remember the visitation and the funeral, and the darkness that enveloped me as we left his body at the cemetery - the realization that this was not a bad dream, he was really gone, and he wasn't coming back.

If that was the end of the story, what a sad, depressing story it would be.  It would be devastating.  Even now, after all of this time, as I recall those details, I do so with tears filling my eyes.  But this is not the whole story.  Far from it.

The night I learned of Daddy's accident, I wasn't the only one.  By the time I arrived at my mother's house around 10 pm, several members of my Christian family where she lives were already parked out front waiting for me.  They went into the house with me as I told my mother that horrible news.  And they stayed.  And more people came.  They couldn't really do anything that night, but they were there.  My Christian family - people I had known all of my life, who loved my physical family, came to simply be present on that horrible night.

And it didn't end there.  They provided food for us throughout the week - so much food, in fact, that one friend had to loan us her portable refrigerator.  They opened their homes for our out-of-town family, and anticipated our every need.  Back home, my church family made sure my kids were cared for, and many of them traveled to my parents' town to be with us for the visitation and the funeral.  Others of my Christian family several hours away also made that trip.

Upon learning that I needed to travel back home mid-week to get more clothes, one of my lifelong friends insisted on driving me - an hour home and an hour back to my mom's house, leaving her own husband and two school-aged daughters at home in order to see to my needs.  And she did this after she had worked all day.

Another friend from my church family at home brought a meal to our house once we were back home the week after the funeral.  She knew that I had not been to the grocery store in a week, and that after the stress of the previous week I would not feel like cooking that first day back home.

I remember it all.  The visits, flowers, shared tears, hugs, expressions of love, having my every need not only met, but anticipated, so that I never had to ask for anything.

At the end of that week, one of my uncles commented about the great love shown to us by our Christian family.  It made me think of what Jesus told His disciples in John 13:35 - "By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

Last week we had a wonderful series of lessons presented by Ryan Boyer on what it means to be the family of God.  (You can listen to those here.)  One of the greatest blessings of my life is the wonderful relationship I have with my brothers and sisters in Christ, made possible by the great love of our Father.  Ryan's lessons last week reminded me of that - the unity, loyalty, trust, and cooperation that is vital to our family relationships; as well as the sharing of stuff, decisions, love, responsibility, and, of course, suffering.  I appreciated all of those reminders last week, as well as the challenge to improve MY outreach in these areas.

Yes, October 11, 2003 ended one of the worst weeks of my life.  But in other ways, it ended one of the weeks I have felt the most loved and cared for in my entire life.  And during this week each year, I choose to spend most of my time reflecting - not on the horrors of my loss, but on the blessings that resulted from my needs.  My earthly father is gone, but how thankful I am that he taught me to love my Heavenly Father.  And because of my relationship with Him, I have an abundance of brothers and sisters in Christ, as well as mothers and fathers in the faith.

What an indescribable blessing to be part of the family of God!

“'What day is it?' asked Pooh. 'It’s today,' squeaked Piglet. 'My favorite day,' said Pooh.” ~A.A. Milne

She's well into her 80's, this wise, God-fearing friend of mine, whom I have grown to have a great deal of love and respect for in the 21 years we have worshipped in the same congregation each week.  In our weekly chats before services, she often imparts to me some bit of wisdom that gives me pause - something I have not thought about before, or a tidbit of sagacity that I continue to ruminate on through the ensuing days.

A few weeks ago, she mentioned the need to live in the moment.  She talked about how at her age she finds joy and pleasure in the seemingly mundane junctures of time.  The example she gave was of watching a crow eat a dead squirrel.  As she watched, she was entranced by how God designed His world to work - how even when an animal dies, God sends in his own clean-up crew . . . and a very efficient one at that!  Once I recovered from the mental image of this sweet, proper older lady lingering over such a gruesome sight, I understood and appreciated her point.  She also spoke of how she wishes she had truly absorbed each moment of her life.  "Nothing," she said, "is unimportant.  If only we could always be mindful of that!"

 I think in some respects we all can relate to her thoughts.  We tend toward two extremes - either we wistfully look to the past, wishing for the "good old days," too absorbed in our memories to take notice of today; or, we take the "I can't wait" approach - one where we are always looking to the future for what will be.  And in the process of those two extremes, we miss this - the here and now.  Today.

Now I do believe there's a place for looking back.  We can gain a lot by looking at our past behavior and improving ourselves.  That should be an active part of our growth each day - to look back, evaluate, learn, and resolve to be better today than I was yesterday.  I also enjoy my daily dose of Timehop, which shows me photos that were taken on that day - some going back as far as 15 years or more!  Most of those photos make me smile as I remember the people and events captured in the snapshots - moments that helped the relationships that I have with loved ones grow.  That's another benefit of looking back - shared experiences make for shared memories which strengthen our bonds with family and friends.  I'm thankful for that, but I need to be careful not to get lost in it.

There's also a place for looking forward.  Planning is important.  In order to be successful in every facet of life, we must be able to anticipate future events and plan accordingly.  Without a forward-thinking mindset, we will often be caught spinning our wheels and accomplishing very little in this life.  Similarly, we all have "big" events in our lives that we look forward to - we "can't wait" to... graduate, get married, have a baby, get a promotion, etc., etc.  We "count the days" as anticipation builds.  And, again - all of that is good to a point.  But I need to be careful that I don't get so wrapped up in tomorrow that I miss today.

Sometimes life sends us reminders - accidents, serious illnesses, the death of someone we love (to name just a few) can abruptly slap us back into that "in the moment" mindset.  At those times, we often renew our commitment to soak it all in - but then days come and go, we become mesmerized by the mundane, and we fall back into the same old moment-stealing traps.

Orson Scott Card wrote, "She worked her toes into the sand, feeling the tiny delicious pain of the friction of tiny chips of silicon against the tender flesh between her toes. That's life. It hurts, it's dirty, and it feels very, very good.”  I like that summation - even the moments that hurt or seem boring are moments to be fully absorbed. 

Living in the moment can be hard.  But my prayer each day is that God will help me do just that, setting the right balance between learning from the past and planning for the future, as I seek to be fully invested in THIS moment.  Whether it's some of the moments pictured here - ones that I remember making that conscious effort to be all in - some big and some seemingly small.  Walking on the beach with Lydia and discovering the joys of that through her eyes for the first time; celebrating Henry's first birthday surrounded by the ones I love most in this world; meeting a dear friend for lunch; watching one of my girls and her forever love walking hand-in-hand along the beach; stopping on a neighborhood walk to watch our resident fox; FaceTiming with my boy while he was in Guatemala; or just sitting on the patio with my forever love - actually, as I think about it, ALL of these moments are big ones for me.

I'm thankful for them all.  And I'm thankful as well for my octogenarian friend who imparts her snippets of wisdom to me on a regular basis.  Life through the eyes of someone who has lived it wisely much longer than I have is profitable for every moment of life.

"A good mother loves fiercely but ultimately brings up her children to thrive without her. They must be the most important thing in her life, but if she is the most important thing in theirs, she has failed." ~Erin Kelly

It began last Monday.  Caleb was the first to go.

All of our chicks except for Ryan had been back in the nest for the previous four glorious days.  They had all arrived close to the same time on Friday, and instantly there was the loudness, laughter, teasing, and the familiarity that comes from 25 years of being a family.  For the next few days following their arrival, we all eased right back into our unique familiar rhythm.  The newer members who were here - Jeff O., Lydia, and Henry - have assimilated themselves quite naturally into that cadence, and they (along with Ryan) have become a part of US . . . the original five, who now number nine.


Much food and coffee were consumed, games were played, swimming was enjoyed, and cuddling with the little ones was soaked in.  There were pretend tea parties in the "Pongyong" (aka, playroom), walks around the neighborhood where the ducks were fed, baths which occurred in my kitchen sink, and many trips to the potty in what Lydia dubbed "Mimi's fancy bathroom."  It was a loved-filled weekend where laughter was shared as well as tears.  Memories were made, and bonds were strengthened.

      

And then, just as swiftly as they came, they left.  With each departure, I felt a unique emotion that I've come to consistently associate with being separated from them.

I first sensed it on Monday when I watched Caleb load Ranger into his truck and drive out of my view down the street.  That same feeling overwhelmed me on Tuesday when I hugged Jeff O. and then Becca as they headed out the door before sunrise.  And then again with the finality of this family time enveloping me on Wednesday, I watched Sarah, Lydia and Henry walk through security at DFW airport and disappear from my view.  I know what you're thinking - the feeling I'm speaking of must be sadness.  In a way that's true, but there's more.  So much more.

I love our family time together.  (And, by the way,  the previous sentence is the understatement of my entire life.)  I love remembering the days gone by that have brought us to this moment in time, and I miss them when they're not here.  Nothing compares to being able to touch them, hug them, and share physical space. But the sadness I feel at seeing them go is the least of my emotions.

First and most importantly, John said it best when he wrote in 3 John 1:4, "I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth."  Christianity is not something they do - it's who they are.  And because of this, I feel great joy when I know that as Caleb leaves our home and goes back to his life in Irving, he is striving in all he does to walk in the truth.  He goes to work every day, offering service to his employer "as unto the Lord."  He actively looks for ways to help others - I could give specific examples, but that would probably embarrass him, so I won't.  But he has created a life of his own, separate from mine.  And in that life, he is thriving.

Likewise, as Becca climbed into the passenger seat of her car with her husband at the wheel and Brinkley in her lap, I knew she was heading back to THEIR home - one they are building solidly on God's truths.  A home where she is loved and cherished, and one where she seeks to serve and honor.  I find great joy in that.  It also brings me great delight to know that in her job as a NICU nurse she is able to help and comfort others - a gift that Becca has always had when it comes to loving other people.  She, too, is thriving in the life she has in Midland - a life that does not directly involve me or her dad.

And finally, as Sarah, Lydia, and Henry disappeared from view after a stressful check-in and security line at the airport, I made my way alone back to my car with a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes.  Lonely?  Somewhat, yes, but mostly joyful and thankful.  Her whole life, all Sarah has ever wanted to be is a wife and a mommy, and God has blessed her with that life.  As I walked away from her last week, she was boarding a plane to return to HER home in Nashville, to a husband who seeks to lead his family in a godly way, and who graciously allowed her and those precious children to spend a week away from him to be with us.  I marvel when I see our Sarah in her roles as wife and mommy - - no one does it better, and I know she thrives in her life and in those roles because she is actively serving God and walking in His truth each day as she works alongside Ryan to teach those things to their children.  And like her sister and her brother, she has a life separate from mom and dad.

What a blessing to be their mom.  And Mimi.  And mother-in-law.  Even though they are scattered for many miles in both directions, they are never far from me.  My first thoughts each morning as I pray are for them.  And my last thoughts each night as I go to sleep are also of them.  Their photos fill our home, and our "Stewart Fam" group text messages keep me entertained.  The individual texts, phone calls, and FaceTime chats are treasured, and our next planned gatherings are greatly anticipated.

So yes, I'm a little sad when they leave, and I would love it if they all lived closer - - but as the title of this post states, even though they (and their dad) are the most important people in my life, I'm more joyful and thankful that they are thriving without me.  That's what God intended.  He wants us to raise our children to leave (Gen. 2:24) - - to work ourselves out of a job, so to speak.  To teach them to thrive without us.  And when I pillow my head at night, that's what I thank Him for the most.