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Love

I should let the pictures speak for themselves.  I love my kids so much it hurts.  Their little hearts and their big hearts have to learn to sort through all the things in life.  Watching them I wonder if I am giving them the tools and courage for it.  But in the end it's not really me.  They ultimately have to find their safety and redemption the same way I did... In Christ.  I ache for them to find it. 
I was awake with one of them last night and he was all nerves.  Crying and tight wound.  I wonder what he would have done if he would have known how shaky I felt too?  I made myself be calm and laid the blankets out on the big brown couch and cozied him in and wrapped my own gray soft blanket around my shaking shoulders and sat on the other couch and I told him I was just going to sit here and pray for him and give it to God.  After I quit praying out loud I asked him if he needed to pray.  He sighed big and said he was okay but he would if I needed him too!  I thought that was sweet!  Then I asked him if I could go back to my bed.  He wanted me to stay beside him.  I treasure that so much because when they get 15 they battle alone.  Except I battle with them in prayer and tears. It's just they don't know that.
Teaching them to be friends.  Teaching them that they are their own best body guards and own best accountability partners.  Teaching them that competition is for sports but not for families. 
LOVE.  LOVE.  LOVE.


They're the messy ten year old and the loud eight year old and the hopeful 15 year old and the innocent 5 year old. 

They are my gifts.  Every single one of them. 
And my greatest comfort is that my God loves them even more than I do!  

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