3:00 AM. Sleep nowhere in sight. My eyes may have a desire to close but can't through the tears and the spinning of my mind.
Someone has to stand in the gap for her - the HUGE gap, in our system, in our world. By now we have had over one hundred foster kids however this story, this injustice, this new reality has rocked me to the core. I learned long ago not to say that I couldn't be shocked however nothing prepares a heart for the hope and desire to be loved in the eyes of a tiny one with the biggest undeserved story.
Feel the hurt, embrace the truth in what is and move forward. This, I can do and sadly so can she. That is what chokes me up really. That she has too.
Fostering is wretchedly glorious, life changing, sacrificial, endless learning, and humbling. I love that it is what I was made to do, really I do.
Humor must encompass this reality otherwise I would be a bumbling idiot. In this, our present day truth we have in our house..... three languages that I as the mom (you know the asker of questions, answerer of all, chef, cleaner, saver of baby dolls, etc) can only speak one - English. This is a comedy show alone! Yes, I have learned "milk and cookies" out of survival thus the reason I am able to write this today.
If the language barrier wasn't enough we added in the dreaded lice. Now that I have you all itching your heads (don't worry this is a natural reaction to the word) I can say thankfully and proudly, that I am an expert at this as I have had (now) 21 foster kiddos with lice. Remember I said that fostering was humbling? One example... all those kids with lice and my kids nor husband and I ever got it! UNTIL...... I sent the kids to camp two years ago. Yes, they came home with gifts. I felt so defeated! Now our guests have made a comeback in our new sweetie and although we caught it early and only one head has fallen victim it is my least favorite of tasks.
I like a clean house (people even make fun of me for this) but I feel like a clean house holds a sense of order. With this many bodies in one house we desperately need order!
So as tears fall and I pray for our new little one this early morning laughter is mixed in as I am sanitizing what I am certain has no need to be, washing all things cloth, and vacuuming every square inch. So much for not looking like a bumbling idiot! Note to our friends and neighbors: it is safe to be around the kids. Well, as safe as it was before that is. I mean I am not promising no practical jokes or pond falling in type stuff. That is not covered in this disclaimer.

We must give of ourselves fully to what we are called to do. Our lives ought not be filled up with mere emptiness, rather abounding with excellence and a pouring out of oneself.  Go ahead, put your heart out there. Trust in what you are made to do and who made you to do it.

"If I look at the mass, I will never act, If I look at the one, I will."

 - Mother Theresa

There I sat, in a heap of unmovable pity. My own voice my enemy and my truth clouded with black smoke of pessimism.   Not my usual self. Not my normal "fighter" attitude. 

I have to honest, when we were planning our trip to Liberia to get our son, with joy overflowing as well came the emotional long awaited news of finally being able to begin the process of adopting our daughter. We had known for nearly three years that we loved her and wanted to add her to our family.  The joy was, in truth, mixed with a sense of exhaustion. It felt as if I were in the delivery room embracing my new child and the doctor telling me I was pregnant again. 

Adoption is a wild ride and full of emotional set backs, tears of joy and pain, fear, frustration, fundraising, oh my goodness.... fundraising. 

We made a promise to our family both near and far that we would carry this adoption pregnancy to term. Not out of obligation but out of a deep love and longing for our family to be complete - she is missing from our complete.

The exhaustion has been wiped away and our whole family is more then ready to get our girl, to share life with her, to be blessed by and to her. We are now filled with expectation and anticipation. Each and every time I check my email or pick up the phone I wonder if the good news will come. We await the day that we get the call to go and get her. 

Oh wait!

As we wait for that call we have to finish working to get the funds to pay for the adoption fees. 

So we wait and we fund-raise, and fund-raise, and, well you get the idea.

It absolutely astounds me that I even have a single friend left on social media after all my posts are about our adoption. Yet, somehow not one person has been rude or even stopped saying kind words. Although I know you all think we are nuts - this may be true. 

This blog is about seeing the one - not the masses. 

Our one is a beautiful girl who with each passing day awaits to be unorphaned, to come home. I see her face in my mind every time I close my eyes and hear her raspy laugh and can't wait for her to be amongst her siblings enjoying being a Neal.

Screams and blood and chaos precede intense emotion.
I can only imagine that this was the scene that played out in the eyes of witnesses of the recent attacks, of all attacks in truth. What if for a moment we unpack these events through the individuals emotions? I am going to try. Before I start I will add that I have not ever been a bystander or victim in a public attack. However, I will add that sadly I have been both victim and bystander to a my share of traumatic situations.
First we have the perpetrator and as much as I try and desire to have compassion for him or her I struggle as I know many do. What was he or she thinking? What was their motive? Simple ugly hate? Yes, I am certain they fell away and were the victim to some pain in their life at some point. However, I as well as many have too and we don't go around blowing things up, shooting, or stabbing people. With this individual I have little to no ability to dig deep enough to find compassion. This leaves me with a bit of guilt in my stomach or maybe disgust. I'm not sure.
Victims are injured in these violent attacks. I have and many of you have read personal stories of survivors. Fear seems to be a secondary emotion as things occur so fast that little time is given to even feel it. Pain surges through their bodies and strength they never knew they had takes over as they go into survival mode awaiting their rescuers. What of those who do not make it? Of that we will never know their last emotions and thoughts. I pray that a sense of peace and calm came over them. Those that made it are often haunted by nightmares and memories for years to come with new fears threatening to take over their every move. PTSD is wretched! They have months and sometimes years of physical therapy ahead of them. The road to healing is long.
The families of the victims. I cannot begin to imagine what it feels like to await news of a loved ones safety. The pain of hearing of a loss of this type is something I cannot speak to and know not the pain. I hurt as I think of this for them. The anger that lurks with high demands to shadow all peace in the hearts of the survivors family members. In all traumatic events those who couldn't be there to save or fix can often feel weighed down by a heaviness of guilt.
The witnesses, victims without visible injuries, scared for life. They watched in horror not knowing when it would end. Seconds feeling like hours and unable to release images from their minds. Unthinkable pain!
Police officers, Fire fighters, EMT's, all rescuers must place all emotion aside for the moment and rush into the scenes of the unimaginaible, not stop and cry, not break down. They are there to rescue now and feel later. This is what they willingly signed up to do and do it proudly. For them I am forever grateful. In the extremely chaotic situations they must stay calm and remain fair to all. They do not get to choose whom they rescue, they simply rescue. When they feel I can only assume they flood with tears that dare never to cease. Yet as we know they put that uniform back on and do it again the next day - for us all. Lest we not forget the spouses and families of the rescuers that live on edge on a daily basis. Prayers for them ought to be unending.
As I am certain I did not include all who endure pain and missed someone and something, I am merely trying to make a point. My apologies for leaving anything or anyone out.
In each case and in every person a great deal of emotion is felt. One might say life changing emotion. Not one emotion over the next is more real or holds more importance, nor does the individual experiencing it.
I posted on social media yesterday my frustration in so much hate in the world and it aroused massive emotion in several people. Rather than get more upset as I read the outpouring of opinions I felt a sense of gratitude and relief for a few reasons. Our world and the people who occupy it have not by any means lost their passion and strong will. That even in our difference of opinions I know that most would save someone of different race and religious belief from a burning building because of that same passion for life. That brings me comfort. Yes, some are evil but let's  face it this is not a new fact. It is an age old truth. Evil is here and we will face it and we will have to choose how we deal with it.
My suggestion and hope for this world is that we see others with the same value as we wish for ourselves and loved ones.  No matter how many times it has been said and how cliche it sounds we are the ones that must be the change we wish to see. That change must challenge us to open our hearts and minds, to be patient with all things new, a willingness to learn, and place judgement aside. We can inspire others to do good, inspire others to others to love first, inspire others to seek peace. We have the power to inspire!
Let's live 2 inspire!

Walking Shoes

Staring at him sleeping ever so peacefully my heart borders on the brink of explosion. His story, our story, our worlds morphed into one, and my mothers love spreads farther then that of the largest ocean.
From a trauma at birth to a selfless love of a birth mother to a perfectly timed adoption to an infection caught in the nick of time to... well, today. Here, now, I get to be his mother and I get to be part of the story of his uncrushable goals. He is driven and determined with such splendid effervescence.
Emmanuel is, along with the family are slowly but surely learning some sign language. He has a few words that are favorites like 'more', 'eat', 'please', 'thank you', and his newest favorite is 'shoes'. Fully understanding what was upcoming and the outcome of being able to wear shoes following surgery Emmanuel has been focused on shoes. Without fail every trip to any store that sells shoes he has to touch them and hold them up to his feet. Until just yesterday that was a far out of reach goal, honestly a strong doubt for me. Nevertheless I let him hold those shoes and embrace the dream he had.
Thankfully for my sanity, the busyness of opening a second Peak Physique (no we are not the owners), a few foster kiddos, and a multitude of parenting dilemmas I had little time to dwell on the fear and doubt I carried.
The morning of surgery went miraculously smooth from getting out of the house and traffic to Emmanuel not being bothered that he couldn't eat. He was all smiles and hugs and kisses for the nurses. He even raced his favorite nurse who happens to be in a wheel chair too. Jason held up beautifully without completely passing out as person after person came in to repeat in detail what they were going to be doing in the operating room.

Emmanuel squealed with delight as each new person came in declaring them "his". I thought he was just being his happy self but I now believe different. He understood every single word and with a peace I envied and excitement seeping from his pores, he was ready!  He wanted to get those walking shoes!
I held it together exceptionally well all the way into the O.R. as he drifted off to sleep with a smile on the entire time and patting the nurse' hand reassuring her it was okay. Then it happened, a nurse said "I'll walk you out" and the floodgates opened. All the 'what if's' and doubting fears fought to take over as the tears just fell. "What if the surgery didn't work and they couldn't get his feet flat'? and "what if he would never be able to wear shoes?"
Thankfully my husband was as hungry as a bear straight out of hibernation and had mere moments to get food or someone was going to be in danger. This "hangry bear" pulled me out of my tear-filled funk. After filling our bellies we began our 8 hour wait for our son to come out of surgery.
The first call came informing us that his Botox and Phenol injections went smooth and were all done and they would be starting the surgery with updating us every hour and a half. The second call came and things were going well, really well, in fact the nurse said the doctors were "very proud of themselves for some reason" and she would call again in another hour and a half. Less then a hour later the third call came in informing us that the reason the doctors were cheering is that they were done and were closing!
The nurse asked if we had any questions. My voice quivering I said "Yes, we have just one, are his feet flat?" She could hardly get out the word "yes" before she began to sob along with me.
His dream, his goals, his faith are undeniably solid.
Let the shoe shopping begin!!

Was that you I saw protesting outside an abortion clinic? Was that you I saw at the town meeting speaking about the need for unity and love for all? Was that you serving at church on Sunday? Was that you volunteering at the local soup kitchen? Was that you I saw an article about in the paper glorifying all the public good things you do? Yes, indeed it was.
Was it you I saw helping the filthy woman with several children bag her groceries after she paid with food stamps? Was that you helping the orphan get an education and clean water? Was it you that stepped into the elderly mans apartment to keep him company? Was it you who I saw unashamed walking into the prison to visit? Was it you that had lunch at an immigrant owned restaurant? Was it you that people referred to as merciful, kind, and selfless? No, sadly that was not you.
Rather you were seen as a bystander and witness to it all yet never lifted a hand. What you didn't do speaks far louder than what you did. What was left seen and untouched was done by a grotesque heart with awful intent.
Closets are meant for clothes and closed doors for proper privacy, they are not meant for selfish secrets lying in wait. The pathetic example this sets for others falls on the shoulders of the self righteous leaving one more empty then a corpse. Act with sincerity, speak with honesty, live with integrity. Let your secret and public self become one.

Its claws dug deep as my thoughts became wildly engrossed, temptation slithered in like the snake it was. Holding tightly as my grip slowly began to give way, my loyalty and values quickly making way for excuses and justifications. Could I really do it? Could I really be that person, simply walking away? I have been happy, loved, cared for, doted on, and yet I made a choice. 

I cheated. 

After years of passionate and sincere concern, and the pure desire to see only the best for me I walked into another's hands. I will never be the same. 

I didn't intend to do it really, it just happened. In a moment of desperation I reached out to another for comfort. I picked up the phone and before I knew I was in the hands of another hair stylist. She meant nothing to me. I felt dirty the entire time, holding all intimate details about my life a secret, a secret that I only share with one. 

I am so sorry Danielle! 

Danielle, it was never you, it was me. How could I think for one minute that the drive was too long and too far? There is no there you. There is no other GB and Co. 

If you will have me, I want to come back. 

Statistics changing for the worse by the minute, children wait in hospitals, shelters, and unthinkable conditions in a country that has a plethora of resources, our very own USA.  One resource we lack? Foster homes –good solid foster homes with parents willing to put their hearts on the line for the youngest of our people.

Social media is plastered with disdain for refugees, gun control, gender identity, LGBT communities, and the list goes on. Might I suggest we take that energy and passion and redirect it? If those who are so eager and quick to blurt out their passionate words about a wall being put up to keep “them” out, and desire only to take care of “our own” then, if I dare ask, why aren’t you?  

Hate has become little more than white noise as words fly with frequent fire from the tongues of many.

hate

1.to dislike intensely or passionately; fe.el extreme aversion for or extreme hostility toward; detest:

2.to be unwilling; dislike:

In contrast……..

love

1.a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.

2.a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend.

Ahh, love. What a softer feel it has even in the very sound of the word. For all of us the word love has not only feeling and meaning but more importantly, memories. Children waiting for safe homes and forever homes deserve those memories to be beautifully real.  As we treasure of friends, family, country, so ought we treasure the seemingly forgottenchildren of America.

For a brief moment place aside the hate and negativity (yes we all have some) replace it with the desire to change the world for a child. Your own world will be transformed, your heart renewed, and your hate will slowly dissipate – if you only let it. Live 2 inspire! 

My emotional, rabbit trail blog....... this day holds so much.....

Do Not Resuscitate - some of the heaviest and trauma filled words I have ever had to hear. I can't even recall the face of the doctor or his name, it was all a blur really. However through that pain and blur I had to find the strength to say one of two small words - yes or no. Those words never seemed as big as that day, big and selfish and unbearable. Finding the strength deep within I said yes.
My mother was suffering, there was no doubt about that and the doctors could do no more to repair what she had done to her body over the years. Even with that knowledge it made it no easier. June 18th the phone rang and my heart sank at the words being spoken. She was gone. Then came the tide of emotions. Anger, sadness, guilt, remorse, relief, peace even attempted sneak in, confusion, fear, free. Sorting them out wasn't easy and proved to be a lengthy process. In fact I am certain I am not done grieving and that's okay.
This day holds my mother.

My original plan was to write about my reflections of our time away but then came the memories of years past and well, that changed the plan. I suppose those memories are meant to be a part of my reflections as well, and as intertwined as they are so will my blog be.

Our first family vacation with Emmanuel home held great anticipation. Planning for our family size is challenging enough and then we add in the emotional expectations of yet another first for our little boy. My mother's heart wanted only the best time had and the best memories made.
We started out on our great adventure to the Black Hills of South Dakota with our van packed and mom made activity books, a perfectly planned trip was underway. With fabulous foresight we purchased a couple of ibooks chosen by the children, one of which was turned on right away, 'Out Of My Mind' by Sharon M. Draper.
By the end of the first chapter my meticulously planned and dreamed up hopes for our trip faded into a magnificent new reality. What does my son want for this trip? What would he say if he could tell me, ask me? I wrapped my mind around the new idea forming. Let's let him show us and tell us what he wants on this trip. He has no problem getting his point across and being heard so why not let him? Thus far he has informed us of his disgust for leaving fun places and not being able to take snakes home with him, his love for the beach and fearless desire to open reptile enclosures. He has shown us he is not one bit claustrophobic, he is not impressed by huge animals next to the van, loves all creatures and believes ice cream ought to be eaten with every meal. I am not sure if he understands what a perfectly planned vacation is however I am positive that he understands the value of time together. His favorite part of the vacation thus far is being fought over by his siblings. He loves to hear "no I want to be Emmanuel's buddy" and he just laughs with delight. So do I!
This day holds my beautifully failed plans.

The cabin was quiet as my eyes opened and begged to focus, a very welcome peaceful sense of quiet. Jason, Titus, and Miriam had long since left for their hike up Harney Peak and Kira, Dayton, and Jordan had begun their trek back to Minnesota in the wee hours of the sunless morning. Yes, Kira and her boyfriend Jordan came out mid week and joined us on vacation. It wasn't planned nor was the heartbreaking news of her miscarrying the baby that was already deeply loved. Family and some rest and relaxation were in need for both her and Jordan. So they drove out to meet us. Seeing them relax and be refreshed and getting to love on them was a blessing. Collectively we grieved in our own ways, some silently, some used words, some just cried,  nonetheless we all miss baby Elijah.
This day holds my grandson.

In the stillness of the morning with a cup of blueberry tea in hand my thoughts drift to my adventurous husband taking two of our kids up a mountain. His love for the outdoors, adrenaline rushes, and his kids combined never fail to make good stories. The anticipated stories came as the children burst through the cabin door already talking a mile a minute. Stories of the mountain goat dad refused to let Miriam pet and try to take home, stories of the competition between siblings, stories of my sons need to use the bathroom the entire hike.  Laughter and memories fill the cabin with joy as my husbands looks at his children with great pride.
This day holds my memory making husband and best father in the world.

At first sight we are in love, in awe, astounded and all together frightened. The safety we held is now far out of reach, in fact seems too overwhelming really. Our baby was perfectly protected from the world with all of its germs and filth and now they are out in the open where we can't protect and control their environment. Our children now become vulnerable which brings on a feeling of an odd fear we hadn't imagined. 

This is not just any old blog, this is, in true Neal fashion, one of the most authentic and transparent and vulnerable moments of my life. 

My baby is having a baby! 

Really all I can see is my little girl with her flipped up bob hair cut getting on the bus for the first day of kindergarten. That is my mothers heart and I suppose that is normal. I love this girl - my baby so so much.  

No, she is not married and if you ask me how this happened I will tell you how babies are made and hope you can figure it out from there.

My girl is now experiencing the lovely joys of morning sickness and cravings. Is it rude for me to say "after what you did to my body nah nah nah nah"? 

Seriously, both Jason and I were taken back by the news and took some time to pray and let it settle in. Our baby is having a baby! The feeling of wanting her to be in that protective bubble of a womb came rushing back. Will she remember to take her vitamins? Will she eat enough kale and protein? So many questions and thoughts came flooding in. 

My heart overflows with love for my girl. Jason and I are now on this journey with her, a journey we didn't see coming, but nonetheless we take with our girl. 

For all of what lies ahead, the tiny life growing inside Kira - our GRAND baby, and for the relationships being built along this path, we beg for your prayers and thoughts. 

 

Soft Jade Green paint and flower clad bedding to compliment the walls in her new room. A delicate pink and white lamp shed the perfect amount of light allowing for a comfortable feel. We had been chosen out of several couples and were ecstatic to meet our little girl.

If there is one group of buildings that are in desperate need of refurbishing it is county buildings. Sterile and musty is how I would describe the room that the entire team sat in, including the foster mom that our soon to be little girl had lived with for most of her short life. As we sat and listened to what we already knew our hearts swelled and smiles grew with love and pride. All that came to a screeching halt as the foster mom began to speak. She said many things but the one that still haunts us to this day is "it's not if she perps on your other children, it's when."

 These words changed everything that day. We had little ones at home to think about and ensure their safety. We also had fallen in love with a young girl that we now mourn the loss of. We knew we couldn't bring her into our home and expect everyone to be safe.
Some choices are so simple while some are excruciatingly hard. We try to wrap our brains around the why's and throw our fists at Heaven that our                                                                                        plans fell apart.


Life is filled with the plans we make and when circumstances change our meticulously orchestrated plans our world has a tendency to get turned upside down. Our faith can be tested and our hopes feel as though they have been run over by a semi-truck.
Withstanding the storms of life not only can be - but are critical steps to growth.

 One cannot grow without change and one cannot                        change without growth. 

"A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. John 13:34

Each and every day I hear my husband go on and on about his clients (never using names) and their individual victories, struggles, and everyday issues. Some would think he should leave his work at the office, not thinking about it after he is home. I would disagree! I absolutely love hearing him think up ways of how to make sure a person continues on the right path, eats more protein, heals from an injury, and so on. This is not only the kind of trainer my husband is, it the kind of man he is. 

 He puts all he has into people because they matter, he sees only potential and worth. It astounds me that with over 300 clients he knows them not only each by name but as well every detail of their lives they share with him. He remembers every hip, knee, ankle, back, life issue, kids names, and even has a favorite quality in everyone of them. He always includes his clients in his prayer time. 

As we sat to do our prayer and devotion time today, our verse was John 13:34 - how perfectly appropriate for how I see my husband. He does not see this as a suggestion, rather he follows the command with his whole heart.  

The night I met him I was smitten with him (okay I really liked his bad boy image too) and today I am still just as smitten with added awe at his heart. 

Opening up my Facebook today I saw that my husband was listed on the Best of Central MN 2016 after rushing to vote for him I thought about how blessed I am to have him. Our marriage is quite possibly one of the best I've ever heard or seen, his love for being a father is wonderously marvelous, and the way he loves all people is contagious. 

             So in love with this man! 

   Today I thought about quitting. Today the mountain seemed too hard to climb and the end seemed out of sight. 
Many never get the privilege of anything less than pressing on amid unbearable pain. Quitting, for far to many is not only not an option but inevitably means the opposite of survival. 

A story idea has been forming in my mind and heart for over a year now. A story of hope, beauty, and forevers. However, today I felt downtrodden as if only butt enhancements or cheating on my spouse type ideas get attention. Now I know that's not true (although I think butt enhancements wouldn't hurt - well physically they would) but (pun intended) breaking though the barrage of rhetoric enhanced shows is proving to be my newest mountain. 

I have no doubt that America desires wholesome, hilarious, and meaningful television. So I vow to be kind and loving thorn in the side of every world changing production company out there. If anyone knows Jessica Neal they know I am impatient and persistent. My poor parents!  

Today I called a friend, picked myself up, brushed myself off and will, for the many - press on. 
I will, without end Live 2 Inspire!

Do we really live in a day and age that we have little choice or so it feels, to choose which side of hate to be on? For the record, hate blanketed in religion and scripture is still hate. If we stand with and speak out as to our beliefs on one side or the other of any issue that is a beautiful expression of freedom of speech. However more often than not that freedom of speech turns into words and even actions of downright hatred for our fellow mankind.
Names are called and words are spewed with no concern for the lasting negative effect they have on others. People will live in ways that others find uncomfortable or disapprove of. Is it another persons, especially a strangers job to correct them? Maybe it is a feeling of being called to reconcile all people to God. Okay, I get that and I agree that we all need to be reconciled. Now here's the question... is it really our job to play God? How does one know who is and isn't reconciled? How do I know my neighbors heart? I may only see small portions of another's life and never truly know the core of who they are. I believe I am going to Heaven, yet some believe and have voiced that I am an abomination because I stand with folks from all walks of life, because I love people who are LGBT, and because I refuse to play God. My faith has been questioned by others but is it not MY faith? When did it become some else's job to manage my faith as if it were a 401K and you were my financial adviser?
My friend recently was a victim of this exact appalling hate that I speak of. He is gentle, funny, kind and lovely, I call him friend.

"I was punched in the face last night by a guy who had a problem with my femininity. I said nothing to him. This is a picture of me in the hospital last night with my dear, kind, loving and amazing friends Sarah and Carissa who stayed with me all night and also this morning when I went to the oral surgeon to put my teeth back in place. I'm posting this to show awareness and to inform that hate crimes happen. Thank you to every who has called, messaged me, for their kindness and for taking care of me and for just being my friend and by my side. I hope they find who did this because it's unacceptable and inhuman for anyone to do this to another person."

To those who write, post, scream, and preach hate, I am sorry for your apparent heart health. It must be a very, very dark place to live.

Stacks of paperwork sit atop my desk. All hold a varying level of importance and urgency. Some take hours to complete while others only moments, nonetheless they sit. They sit underneath my cell phone that doubles as a paperweight at times. That cell phone holds multiple texts, mostly from children asking things like "will there be cookies when I get home?, can I get a puppy? I had a hard math test today so can I not do chores?, my teacher is being mean to me, etc!" What the, who the??? What kind of idiotic parents give their children phones and let them text from school?! All these texts that beg response along with the massive amount of social media messages that await answering and of course there are the CNN updates that hold grave importance - I mean really how else is one to know what the newest stupid thing is that flows from Trumps mouth? The stacks of papers, texts, messages, and urgent world news lie beside the computer that holds my emails that take on another level of heightened priority and vital life changing information.
As I plop down in my desk chair (stolen from my husbands desk ;)) I allow the sight in front of me to sink in. I ask myself "self, why can't you keep up on this?" myself replies "Self, you have a thousand children!" Oh, right! If you are wondering, yes I do have these conversations with myself often and I do refer to myself as 'self' because it sounds cool and I respond.
Summer is upon us and there in no better reminder of this than that of the gazillion messages from teachers informing me of the media books due, outstanding work, and end of the year parties and field trips that seem reasonably priced unless you have a thousand children! Whether we are the type of person that looks forward to end of school with sleeping in, no homework to check, no lunches to pack, who gives a crap if our kids wear the same clothes for a week, "I'm bored" being heard nine million times a day, or not. The fact remains that our sanity is tested during these months. For those of us who have large families (and don't homeschool - these are a whole new freakishly different kind of brave crazy cool folk) we face life choices on a huge level. Are we really pro life? Do we really not believe children should be in boarding school? The struggle is so very real.
Like most, we are planning our summer family vacation - or should I just be real and say I am planning it. My husband, bless his heart (that is what you say when you really want to say something else %$*# but you ought not) I am certain is jealous as he has to work and cannot help plan. He will wish he had helped plan the food when he sees all the Oreos we packed. Just kidding - maybe not. However, as the planning ensues with all the gory details of a vacation with a thousand children I contemplate ceasing production and calling in the in-home therapist.
Back to those waiting papers, messages, texts, and news of political blah blah blah. Oh yes and I need to make some cookies!

There are times I am just sickened by the audacity of some humans. Too often I see people with a thought process of "I deserve......" and I frankly want to vomit! Get off you rear end and work for it, make it happen, choose better, be stronger, dig deeper.
Change for the better doesn't happen without work and willingness to endure the uncomfortable. Life is not about you! We were put here, all of us, to make a difference. Hero is and ought to be in all of us. Whether we are that hero to one in quiet or thousands in noise, our heart and motive MUST remain pure! Reward mustn't be the sought after outcome, rather great comfort needs to be taken in the knowledge of loving well.
No difference is found in the giver or the receiver of loving well. Not one is better than the other.
No person is a project that needs to be checked off a list and then glorified in public prayer meetings. This religiousity is sheer ugliness! To know ones heart you MUST take the time to get through the outer shell. That means that in quiet, without recognition or boast we invest, really invest, like genuinely care and befriend people.
I remember a time years ago being asked to dinner this way "we were just going through the list of people we need to make time for so could you come to dinner? Our only day left is next Thursday." Were we to be ecstatic that we made the chosen list? Needless to say we gracefully declined the invitation.
That invite taught me a lot. I knew at that moment that I never wanted to treat someone with that lack of authenticity. Notice here that I did not say lack of kindness because in the true spirit of being genuine I will say that there are several folks that I just don't hang out with. That in no way means they don't have value it simply means that, well, to be real here, I don't like to hang out with joy suckers.
The moral of this rant/post/emotion explosion??
Be real
Strive to be better - always
People are people, NOT projects!
Love well
Work for what you want and for the love of Pete, work hard!
Your choices equal your reputation
Concern yourself with others first
Remember you were made to love and God never promised it was easy.

That spring held what seemed like endless mornings of everything right. Mom woke up before me and with a smile and a silly song she would sing me awake. I still sing this same song to my kids today. She was stone cold sober and the feeling it gave me was indescribable. The feeling of being worth it flooded over me each morning as I looked into her clear bright eyes.

Those sober mornings were some of my favorite ever. We would put Andy Gibb on the record player and turn the volume up as loud as it would go. Dancing and singing to the most handsome man with the highest voice - we never failed to wake the neighbors. I remember wondering one day if they knew, knew that my mom was sober because she chose to be for herself and for me. Knew that it took more strength than even Superman had to be sober.  Knew that Andy Gibb was our happy place, knew that the noise was the most joyous noise to my ears. I wonder if they knew?
As spring morphed into summer mom simply couldn't hold on. The evil claws of addiction sunk in once again. I held tight to the morning songs I woke to, I hid our special record so no one could take it, and I went back into survival mode. I was comfortable there and navigated it well. Addiction took her away again that summer. My mom was present but was not there. I could touch her but not feel her. Emptiness was my unwelcomed constant companion. These seasons were the story of my life for many many years to follow. I'm not sure why but the saddest part of it all to this day is that we lost our Andy Gibb records.
Sometimes, some of us in life must dig deep for the memories that are golden. Those memories are to be cherished, our happy place memories.
Today on my daughter's 6th birthday I am reminded of the treasured days I had with my mom when she was really there and her beautiful heart for people. With all honesty my heart breaks as I mourn the dream of listening to Andy Gibb with her and her grandchildren.
I will dance to the crazy music of today with my children singing loudly all of my days, giving them no need to dig deep in search of happy place memories.

Finding humor in life is of the utmost importance for survival, of this I am certain.

Asked what I wanted for Mother's Day I responded with the sweetest (and looniest) answer ever, "I want to spend it with the ones who have made me a mommy". Now lets be real here, that is not a dumb answer, however, wanting to take them to the zoo one day and deer park, rock climbing, and picnicking the next may have bordered on the lines of insane! Crazy as it was my brave husband loaded up eight children and his parents and off we went with our mini zoo to the the real zoo. Is it any wonder why people stare at a family with two wheelchairs, three cinnamon, one dark chocolate, and a handful of peach folks (descriptives given by our youngest) all with their own creative ways of dealing with other humans? The good news is that we survived, no animals were stolen or released - not for a lack of effort, and no cotton candy was consumed.

Well that went so well we thought we ought to do it again and this time lets go bigger! Lets take a 3, 4, 5, 6, 11, 12, 12, 13, and 17 year old to Taylors Falls and climb on rocks and go nature adventuring. What the????? Who's idea was this?!
Sure enough that super hero husband of mine loaded up the van again with our small herd and we were off. Prepared for whatever life was going to hand us, we had our first aid kit, stroller, Ergo baby carrier,  wheelchairs, bug spray, sunscreen, cooler filled with pre-made lunches, pullups, and extra clothes. We were set!
We forgot the magic fairy dust that makes that many children not kill each other in the van, cease from attacking random people and animals at the deer farm, oh yes and pooping in a sculpture garden. There is now a family in need of therapy after seeing 'art in action' from our youngest guest. I then realized I, along with the fairy dust, also forgot any sort of bag in case the need to pick up human feces may arise.

They all make me a mommy, a laughing lunatic, believer of miracles and fairy dust, humor seeking, need of a stiff drink, and never more blessed mommy that is.

Next year please remind me to go the spa route!

Today seems too heavy. Today is one thing after another. Today is a challenge, a test. Today my faith is being tried as I cling to it with all my might.
The past hurts both seen and unseen of tiny sweet souls takes its toll on my heart. I want to etch a sketch it away for them, to give them a new beginning to their story. I cannot.  Today is hard as I answer questions asking if I will always be their safe. Today is harder than most for some reason as I dig deep for the right words and hold back tears as I look into their eyes.

Today is hard as I reflect back on my time in Liberia doing missions. I miss the kids from the depths of who I am. I can still hear their giggles, smell the scent of their worked hard for sweat, and remember each and every story. Today I smile through the tears as I think back on what I learned and how I grew through the pain I saw and experienced. My smile grows when I recall all of the perseverance I witnessed. all of the joy felt and love shown.
Today is hard as I call the doctor for my daughter that has been sick for over two months. Tests gallore face us tomorrow and we hope and pray for answers. Today is hard to love and forgive the choices birth mom made that led to my daughters immune disease.
For everything hard today, there is a joy surrounding it.
I am filled with joy as I get to be the mamma for a short time to some incredible wee ones.
Joy overtakes my everything as I think about the blessing of calling Liberia my other home.
Joy abounds and I can barely breathe when I think of how blessed I am to be her mom.
I would and will take a million more hard todays knowing that this is my joyous reality.

Today I was called mamma. Just like every other day really, except for the sweet little voice calling out for mamma was not my forever little. He is a guest for a short time that I pour all I have and all I am in to, knowing full well my heart will shatter into a million pieces at the time of our farewell. His eyes look to me to heal wounds I cannot fathom and his arms cling ever so tight in hopes he will never have to let go. Let go is exactly what has to be done, not only in the end but now as well at the start of it 
all.

Letting go of the concern for "what will people say" and man can they say mean things. My least favorite is "what about you 'real kids'?" My 'real' kids (as opposed to my fake ones) are people of compassion and love. They are taught to love well even when those in need of love are difficult and cruel, even when the spirit of religion spews hate in the name of a loving King. My 'real' kids know what REAL is and do it well. 

Those eyes that look to me and call me mamma and call my home safe are every bit as real as any other child. 
Bedtime takes longer, shopping is a comedy show, showering is few and far between, the laundry pile is touching the ceiling, and my heart is over flowing. Nothing, absolutely nothing would I change. They are all worth it! They are the people that will grow up to love as they have been loved, persevere as they have seen, see challenges and face them head on, fight victoriously for a world with more love and less hate because we were willing to feel the hurt for them. 
When I think of how I want to be remembered, I find myself hoping that people will say that I fought for the weak, spoke for the voiceless, that I risked, that I ran from complacency, and more than anything loved and found value in all. 
As much as I would like to believe that I am still twenty-nine the reality is that my story has been ongoing for forty-two years. As those years add up and that number grows I become more aware of the need to cherish the details with never missing the big picture. I look on back on all the hills I died on fighting petty battles, the hearts I unintentionally trampled by shoving the gospel at, the times I spoke when I needed to listen, and so much more. Those memories, that part of me, is an integral part of my story. Having learned from who I was and transforming into who I need to be today continues to be a path filled with hills and valleys that I face head on.                                
My hills and valleys today are chock full of the pitter-patter of little feet and magnificent moments of silliness and joy-filled tears when I hear the word "mamma". 

A voice for those without, an advocate for those knocked down, a willingness to take the hit for the bruised and battered, a heart made to be broken.
I was created to love. So what does love look like? Well, it seems to me that as a society, as a whole we have come up with our own view and model of perfect love. Here's where I tick off a lot of folks...
I am fed up with all of the excuses and hypocritical ways we as a society are willing to show (what we call) love. Words are empty until followed up with action, love is not felt if shadowed with conditions, trust is not given if relationships are not built.
Finding value in people is the right thing to do. All the rest is mere details. That's where we get stuck though, isn't it? We so badly want to the details to be on our terms, in our timing and never against what we believe to be okay. Well, there went the love, trust, and respect we so passionately said we give ever so freely as well as any hope of receiving it in return.
One cannot open up any social media, or watch the news without seeing the accepted hate and "in the name of....." garbage as thought to be valid excuses to tear others down. It sickens me to see this lack of value seen in our fellow mankind. If you are obsessed with others way of life, beliefs, or choices to the point of constant ridicule, might I suggest looking at yourself! Without a doubt an inward look will reveal the real problem.
Far too many issues are out there to list, however here's a few...
The Big Bathroom Debate: - my thought - I've never once stopped to ask to check and see whats under another persons clothes, so I'm not sure if I have been peeing with boys or girls. Truthfully, I'm just glad I didn't wet my pants.
Refugees: SERIOUSLY! Don't visit my house if this is an area on contention for you. You may feel surrounded.
Black lives matter: Again, please don't visit as you will be outnumbered and they all do play with squirt guns.
Police lives matter: Yep, they do! We, including the African, African/American, American Indian, and who knows, support our police and think they matter.
Confused yet??
Homosexuality: Yep, you guessed it. We have one of 'those' too. Now as you are all freaking out and praying for the deliverance of one of the dear Neal children. I will tell you that it is my adopted sister.
I could go on and on and on.
Sadly I hear people say "I have to be careful about what I say around certain people". My response to that is "why"? If what we say comes from a spirit of unconditional, authentic love then why the need to be careful?
Bottom line is that people, all people matter. Actually they still matter if others don't agree. Our opinions of others don't make their reality. If we want our opinions to matter and our words to be heard then we might try saying them with more love and less hate. Love is easier to hear than the deafening screams of hate.

There is something so right and so peaceful about silence. Not found often in my life, however welcomed in small increments.
This morning I have been on the receiving end of powerful love. In all honesty I am on this end at all times, I simply don't take the time to embrace it and allow myself to be enveloped in the perfect love offered in His silence.
My silence in His silence, is filled in a sense with noise, noise that I must listen through. Noise of awe and wonder. Birds of all kinds raise a joyous noise, beavers splash clumsily in the pond, frogs join in with their chorus of croaks, and the wind lightly whispers its gentle embrace. Refrain from thinking, from doing, from moving. Be....just be.
I am loved far better than I deserve. I am covered with a blanket of grace. I am protected by a mighty force. I am treasured.
To completely be able to love well and to pour into others lives I must cease all doing if only for a moment. One cannot fill a moving cup. So I remain still in order to be replenished. The pain of the emptying moves at a snails pace yet we must recognize that we, being made to love, as well need to be loved.  Allow yourselves to be filled up in order to give and empty yourselves completely. The filling will never end, this I promise.
So love well and rest well.

I sit here with my sick little boy reflecting on my life. 

Today I was supposed to be on an adoption panel but my son developed a fever and cough. He began to make a noise I hadn't heard from him yet. It was a cough. He is a very poor cougher - I had no idea this would be a struggle for him as he seems so strong. Long story short here, we made it through the night without visiting the hospital and have successfully used more kleenex than ever known to one human. He loves kleenex! His spirit astounds me. He struggles to cough or understand the 'how' part of it and then giggles. He simply radiates!

Back to reflecting on my life...... 

Presently I am in 'stuck' mode in my book writing. Really not sure why. I am surrounded by thought and emotion provoking people and situations daily. My children provide a plethora of ridiculous amounts of drama and excitement that I am certain I will never understand. 

My daughter whom we have prayed will return has decided to come back to her original crazy life. She is one of the most amazing human beings to walk the planet and seeing her face on a daily basis feels like fresh air. Ok, let me add here that we disagree in the Neal house like loud Italians. Yes, the neighbors are welcome to get a taste as we do not do quiet well. This meaning that adding my way-too-much-like-me daughter back in just makes our cul de sac all the louder! Sorry neighbors!  Or better yet, you are welcome for the money you will save not needing cable  - just watch the Neal's.

Our son that was planning on going to prom is undecided about the human he wishes to go with. My heart breaks and rejoices simultaneously as he seeks to find himself and be real. These two children, biologically mine, were never supposed to be. They were 100% miracles and the awe never goes away. I really get to be their mom! 

My daughter that has very little need for other people in or around her has finally found her place. She spends time out in a pasture with horses and ponies and says NOTHING! No words used at all yet she tells me they have things to say and she sees their qualities. Not only do I love her beauty but I love the beauty she sees that most cannot. 

At two and a half we were his eleventh stop, his forever family, my son continues to amaze us. He is so thirteen! All the moments I thought we might never see or experience with him we are joyfully embracing. He mumbles in the morning like some sort of zombie has taken over his soul and worries about his plans for the weekend. Sure there are other not so joyous moments and past trauma still haunts him at times but to see how far he has come baffles us all.

My twins couldn't be more opposite from one another. My little "Martha Stewart/Mother Theresa" is a care taker and avid baker. Her hearts desire is to see everyone happy, healthy, and fed well. 

Her brother is quite satisfied to be on the receiving end of the fed well movement in the Neal house as long as it involves a baked good. He loves video games, snuggles with mom, math, and all things sugar. He has crazy ugly days of pain that take over his entire being that the doctors are still working on fixing. The long process is in and of itself painful yet he happily presses on.

My youngest rules the roost with a fierceness. Her presence is without fail, known, heard, and felt. She is delightfully and passionately boisterous, she is a social butterfly, she is in love with the thought of her birth family, she is unique beyond unique. 

My son that is rarely heard from yet prayed for daily is heavy on my heart. His life was one of the hardest I have ever heard of and his trauma worse than I ever wanted to know of. Yet even through all of that he is maintaining and keeps in contact when he can. I so love him. 

My child a world away has yet to come home and yet to experience the Neal home and the hole in my heart for her is huge. I miss her every day.  

My husband loves God and people better than anyone I have ever met. His heart is larger than life, his desire to love well spills out into everything he does. He looks amazing in spandex and is one of the fittest men on earth. I cherish him and all that he is. He loves me more than I could have dreamed, puts up with my moodiness, loves each and every creature and human I add to our home as his own if even for a short time. His willingness to be all out there for the sake of love and the sake of people is far beyond anything I have ever seen in anyone else. I love this man deeply. 

As I reflect on all of this I really have a hard time believing this is my reality. It is wacky, busy, love wrapped, authentic, and all mine. I am exceptionally fortunate!

What does one do when the passion in their heart is fierce and the desire to help people comes from deep within their soul? I suppose there is the choice to do nothing, to shove those emotions down, to run fast from the calling on your life. I, personally cannot do nothing, shove emotions, and as far too many know I can't run to save my life.
Follow the path laid before me is what I will cheerfully do. That path has and I assume always will be loving people, broken and wounded hearts wrapped in human shells in desperate need of compassion.
The Neal doors are soon to be open to the smallest of these people as we welcome foster children once again. Abounding excitement fills our home as we wait to meet our first guest. My children fill me with awe and amazement as they joyfully ask "when will we be setting another place at the table".
Here at the Neal house we do some things really well, loving people is one of them and yes, we know that crazy is another.
Our hope and prayer is to not only provide refuge for a wee one but be of help to an entire family, to use our experience, our training, and our hearts to take every step toward being a vessel for change.
What?! I thought the Neal's were adopting?!
As we faithfully walk down the long road of adoption (again), bringing our little girl home, we will open our lives and home to others in immediate need.
Our support system of family, friends, and neighbors blows us away as we have shared this news. To say we are blessed beyond measure is an understatement.

                             "Severely mentally retarded, and mute."

As we cleared immigration at our port of entry I began to gather our things and go through the next check point when a voice called out "excuse me, mam". That sinking gut feeling overtook as I turned and saw the immigration officer motioning for me to return to his counter. "Are you sure you have the right child?" What was he asking? I knew my son, I knew everything was done with the utmost honesty with every i dotted and every t crossed, so what could he mean? My eyes asked the questions my mouth couldn't. Asking me if I had read the document in his hand, which of course I hadn't as it is sealed until an immigration officer opens it. He handed it to me and allowed me to read the reason in which he wanted reassurance.... "child is severely mentally retarded and mute". He looked at me and said "your son is not either one of those". Tears welled up and I thanked him for seeing the amazing little boy I saw.

Those words were never meant to be his legacy or identity. For that matter they didn't even describe him while he was in his home country.  Amazing isn't it that no matter what country it is, we deal with the same issues. What we see or read on paper is not who the child is inside.
That moment at the immigration officers counter, reading those words was brought to the forefront of my mind while in the doctors office yesterday. Informing the doctor that I had mentioned on national television that my son would most likely walk within a year, I expected a miracle and could he deliver. "No pressure" he said laughing. Thankfully what followed was music to our ears. "YES! He will walk within a year".
Have you ever cried joyous tears that simply won't stop? I did! He has wanted to walk since the day I met him and now it is no longer my hope for him but a reality.

Mountains of work has to be done to get there, that we know, but the end goal is so beautiful that we press on. I watched my son's face light up as he heard the words from the doctor followed by an such an infectious giggle we all had to join in.

                     The roller coaster of a life I was meant to live.

Saturday brought an out of the blue, first ever seizure for my daughter that led to a trip to the emergency room only to leave with no answers. We chose to lay low for the remainder of the weekend and just be. Ahh, that felt good! Knowing that the week ahead held the strong likelihood of high stress outcomes, we savored every minute of our weekend.
On an average, there are anywhere from four to nine appointments that I journey out for weekly with the kids, most of which are routine and far from emotionally taxing. Today, however, was unsettling, vexing, and honestly downright ugly. Two simple appointments and we started off great, with my sons pre-op. He was cleared with flying colors for his first round of Botox and Phenol injections. On our way to loosening him up and preparing him to walk! We left there with smiles and a skip in our step (or wheels). No stress so far!
With some extra time on our hands we made our way over to one our favorite stores and then grabbed some lunch. Faces filled with delight, holding their new toys, we made our way to my other sons appointment. The title Interventional Cardiologist might scare some, but for us it was just another "ologist" to see and add to our list.
Our newly added "ologist" had far more to say than I was ready to hear, and I can take a lot! Maybe it is because I went in thinking we already had a small scare and everything turned out okay, or because we were just going to see him to "rule out" things. Whatever my mind had decided to believe kept me from worrying and I guess that is for the best. Dr. Smartypants (used huge "ology" words) was as nice as could be but as he spoke of the concerning factors and needed procedures, all I could see was horns coming out of his head. Was he the devil? Was this a bad joke?
Another, making that seven, surgeries will need to be done to test his venous pressure around his heart. Possible/probable placement of a balloon and/or stent if we are lucky, will need to be done. If we are not lucky? Well then, we will find an issue with the sack around his heart; that's when I went into the tunnel. My ears heard "if we find that, we will be looking at surgery, but if we find the other, we are talking transplant list". My mind however, heard transplant, and got stuck. I kept a solid "I am fine, and sure I got this" look on my face while my heart raced, my stomach turned and my mind reeled. What?!
Now, let me say that I strongly believe that he was simply being thorough and honest, giving me both the worst and best case scenarios. Problem is, I really didn't like either and as hard as I tried I couldn't get out of my tunnel vision.
Driving home my son was chatting with me a bit and I asked him how he felt about the appointment and what the doctor said. His reply yanked me out of my "stuck" instantly. "Mom, its not like this is our first rodeo, isn't that what you always say?"
There is a reason, a magnificently divine reason that I was gifted with being the mom of such perfectly imperfect medical puzzles. I may never fully understand the why, throw the occasional tantrum, and get stuck in my emotional tunnel at times, but I will never doubt that we were meant to be.
I want to say a huge THANK YOU to all of you that read my blog and dare to follow this emotional journey with us. Many of send positive words and thoughts and cover us in a blanket of prayer. Bless you!

Popcorn ceiling, focus on the popcorn ceiling. It's not happening, just pretend it's not happening. Why wasn't someone coming to help, knowing I was being hurt? How could no one on this ginormous planet not hear my screams?
I wasn't screaming outwardly, I was numb and my screams were deafening but only to myself as they were buried deep in my soul.

Years of memories were erased, or so I thought, from my mind. I desperately needed those years back, I needed those memories as awful as they may be, they were a part of my story and finally I had reached a place that I cherished my story and myself. The shame and fear and guilt that came with not remembering years of my life was heavy, as if somehow it was my fault for not holding firm to these horrific moments. My ongoing prayer was "God, in your perfect time, please reveal the truth and hold me tight as I see it".

Blessed with the world's most loving and understanding man by my side those memories came one after another, often bringing me to my knees. Was I really seeing my own reflection on the canvas that was once blank, now being painted with the darkest of dark?

That was me. This is me. However, I am not the me who used to be. By the grace of God I walked, sometimes crawled through the memories of old and peace eventually settled over me. No, the pain was not erased and the memories remained fresh but a new found sense of freedom began to fill me. I knew my story, all of my story and it didn't kill me, define me, or crush my spirit. That was a victory in and of itself.

Daily we are graciously invited into a myriad of dramas. As thoughtful as this is of our fellow earth sharing humans, we do have the power and right to kindly decline the invite.
My children are adorable little teachers of this, with their quick responses of "no way, jerk". Okay, I admit we ought to choose kinder words, however the decline to the invite is more than clear.  Some people mean well and with (sometimes)   genuine good intentions welcome us in to their seemingly endless dramas and with pity or maybe just obligation we accept. Then comes the gut wrenching, skin crawling, feeling of dread. In our feeling of being stuck, we continue down the path with them, all the while questioning why and how we got there. We made the choice. We accepted the invite.
So now what? How in the world do we still be a friend, show compassion, and love well, yet safely guard ourselves and set solid boundaries?
Simple, right? Nope! The reason you accepted the invite in the first place is because you have an overgrown and beautiful heart. Let's not change that one bit, rather let's  add teacher into those labels. We can all love and teach those in our circles of the value they hold and the part they play in this world. Distance is your friend here, your heart is precious so guard it carefully as you walk this road. Loving well,
by no means equals being a door mat.
Those dramas have authentic pain behind them, faces and names attached to them, and they reached out to you because of a need. Evaluate  what you can give, how much, and set those boundaries. In my experience the receiver is far more appreciative of authenticity and boldness in love than phony, obligated concern.
Love well, both yourself and others!

Gracious, intensely passionate, empathetic, ridiculously fun, driven, fitness addicted, first rate father to many, foxy. Jason Neal, my husband, my rock! 

Seasons of life bring about opportunities for growth and reflection. As I find myself embarking on a new season I get stuck on a beautiful truth, my husband is a blessing I am daily amazed by. 

Marriage is precious, requiring a fine balance of soft-spoken gentleness and a fiery fighting force. We looked each other in the eyes and vowed to cherish, to love, to forgive, to fight for one another and our union. Marriage is not to be taken lightly, it is to be treasured, every moment savored, each mountain climbed embraced and etched in our memories. The good, the bad, the ugly, all to be soaked in bringing forth more beauty and resilience, deepening our love. 

With each day my children awake to a written message from their father with words that uplift, affirm, and awaken their spirits. His love for his children is one of the greatest loves I have ever seen. It is a gift to be his wife, to see his love for life pour out into the lives of others. His last dollar given to one in need, his forgiveness never ending, his grace and mercy in his eyes and words, his heart fully sold out for God, he is my hero, my love. 

Hold tight those you love and fight with a fierceness for the

good of them and all.