My sick, dying husband was diagnosed today.

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There are certain kids I come in contact with in my job that I grow to love. You see these kids everyday, you help them with their homework, you put bandaids on their boo boos, you comfort them when they cry for their mommies, you try to help resolve fights between friends.
I also get to know their parents, some I’ve even become friends with.

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Guest Post by Ericalynn

my mother and I haven’t always had the best relationship. when I was growing up, it wasn’t that we didn’t see eye to eye, it was more that we were very private people with very different attitudes about how to handle things, and we never really needed to meet in the middle, but we never attempted to get close because we didn’t realize we even could.
nowadays, we are as close as could be, but it wasn’t always like that.

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I just found out my neighbor and one of my best friends is selling her house.
This makes me so sad!

I can’t even imagine not sneaking out late on a Saturday night to see if she’s on the porch waiting for me so we can drink and talk and do cartwheels in the grass at night.

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Today, I remember.
I remember the horror, the panic, the fear, the anger, the sadness, the confusion, the disbelief.
I remember the people running for their lives, the people jumping out of desperation, the fireman running towards a building that everyone else was running away from, the people desperately looking for loved ones, the people on the streets watching and crying.
I remember the fear in my childrens eyes as they watched, I remember feeling like I couldn’t breathe, not knowing if my children would ever be safe again, I remember holding my boys, crying, telling them everything was going to be ok, but not really believing that was true, I remember driving them to school, not knowing if it was the right thing to do, not knowing what would happen next, not knowing if the world as we knew it was coming to an end before our eyes.
I will never, ever, forget.
I cried this morning, I will probably cry again. However, I also smiled. I smiled when I woke my kids up and I felt their warm skin against mine as we hugged.
I am thankful. Thankful to be alive, thankful that my kids are safe, thankful that life goes on, even though there are thousands for which life will never be the same, we still have life. And we must move forward and continue to live life to the fullest.
But we can never forget.

Thank you everyone for your emails and comments regarding my uncles death.
I’m fine. I’m sad, but I’m fine. I wasn’t very close to my uncle as an adult, however, as a child, I looked up to him.

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I just got a phone call. My Uncle was in Arizona with his motorcycle buddies and he died suddenly of a heart attack.
I haven’t seen him in so long and he lives just a few blocks away.
You just never know.

I am not ok, but I will be. The pain is worse, It’s hard to breathe. Let me put it to you like this…
I would rather give birth to triplets who weighed 20 pounds each, naturally, with no pain killers in the middle of the desert while being stung by 100 bees, in front of a crowd of people who were pointing, laughing and throwing stones at me.

That’s how bad this hurts.

Yesterday, me and my boys stopped to get a bite to eat before we headed out to do what almost turned out to be school shopping. While we were there, I watched a group of women hold hands and say a prayer before they ate. I was raised to pray before every meal to give thanks for our food. When I was young, I would get so embarrassed when my dad would pray at a restaurant, because he tends to get a little loud when he prays. I would keep my eyes open, as if to show the people who would look at us that I was rebelling and didn’t think it was cool to do this! As I got older, I didn’t mind so much, I understood it was just a simple act to thank God for the blessing of having something to eat.

I continued to pray for my food until recently. I wanted my children to continue that small act of thanks to God for what we have. But I don’t do it anymore and neither do my children. For some reason, when I saw those women doing that yesterday, I had a little bit of guilt that we don’t pray before we eat. Maybe we should start doing that again.

Do you say grace before eating?

His voice soothes me. When I hear him talk to me, I know everything is going to be ok. I know that I am loved. I know that if I can’t cope, he’ll be there to help with whatever needs to be done. I know he’ll hold me tight, I know he’ll kiss me gently while running his fingers through my hair, wiping away the tears that run down my cheek. I know he’ll tell me I’m beautiful and have so much to live for. I know that he’ll never hurt me or abandoned me, no matter how ugly things get.
His love comforts my aching soul and my troubled mind.
His love is my saving grace.