Wednesday, July 20, 2016

On This Day, Your 21st Birthday...

Austin Age 3.

I can remember it like it was yesterday, finding out I was pregnant with my first child. The amount of fear and excitement that ran through me at that moment cannot be matched. The following months as my belly grew and I got to hear
your heart beating and feel your kicks and flips and hiccups, I fell in love with you. In those months it was just you and me. I didn't have to share you. Your tiny bumps and turns were just for me. I would sometimes poke you back and tell you how excited I was to meet you. But I was also scared. I knew that the moment you arrived, our lives would be forever changed. We'd be in charge of another life. A tiny and innocent and vulnerable little life. How terrifying that was to imagine.
That day, 21 years ago today, when I finally was able to find out IT'S A BOY! I could not be happier. Then they placed you on my chest and I saw your little face for the first time. All the fear, all the doubt, just went away. Your little cry, your teeny tiny little fingers and toes. Gramma counted them right away! You had 10 of each! The amount of love I had instantly for my little 6lb 10oz baby boy, was bigger than any universe. I already loved you to the moon and back.

For the past 21 years I have done everything I possibly could do, to make sure you always knew you are loved. To make sure that you knew I always have your back. I know, especially in the early years, I screwed up sometimes. I maybe yelled too much, or spanked you more than I should have. I know there were times I was so angry, I probably scared you. Or maybe I wasn't always 100% present in the times you needed me to be. I wasn't the perfect mom. I screwed up. I didn't do everything right by you. I didn't do everything right, but I did the best I could. Always. I hope you know I cherished your sweet face and your laughter. I cherished your little car sounds when you raced your Hot Wheels around the floors. I loved watching you use your imagination when you built your Chevy Fiary. Or when you would get up early on the weekends to watch NASCAR or Monster Trucks.  Or when we would watch Nick Jr. and play JJ the Jungle Jukebox.  Please know all of those memories and the million others memories, big and small, are pieces of my heart that you own.
I'm looking at you now, a man on his own. Working and making a life for yourself. Your manly voice, your facial hair, your tall stature and broad shoulders. But I want you to know, I still only hear your little voice of 3 years old. I still only see your little tiny face and big brown eyes. I see your toothless smiles. I will always see you as my little Punkinseed. I was there for all of your firsts. I never missed a single moment. Not one. I walked you into your first day of school and when you wouldn't let go of my hand, I wish now that I hadn't pulled it away. I wish I had kept hold just a few moments more. Because it wasn't too many years later, walking into your first day of school that you were too big to hold my hand anymore. If I had known that day, that it was the last time I would ever hold your hand, or carry you, or get to read you a bedtime story and tuck you in. Or if I had known it was the last time you'd sit on my lap or kiss me good-night, I would have insisted on making those moments last a bit longer. I would have been less in a hurry and more in that moment with you.

I look at new parents now, with little ones who remind me of you. And I see the mom's losing their patience and being
a little bit too harsh or ignoring them when they're trying to show them their latest trick. And it brings me back to when you were that age. I want to go up to those mom's and tell them, please know, this time with your child goes quicker than quick. You will blink and suddenly they will be 21 years old and you WILL regret all these moments where you should have done  better. Where you should have paid attention or listened more. It goes so fast.
It went too fast.

Here I am on your birthday and all I can think about is how much I love you. And how I wish I could make
you small again. So I could have a do over.  It's not because I'm not proud of the man you've become, because I could not be more proud of you. I wish I could make you small again because that selfish side of me wants that time back with you. I don't want to share you. I want to hear your little voice again. I want to spend more time with you, I want to see all your tricks again. I want to hold you one more time on my lap and read you your favorite book and hear about your day. I want to see you in your little Nascar hat sitting on Papa's lap talking about trucks. I want to see your sweet little bald head and your tiny little feet.

But at the same time, I want to see you now, as the man that you are. Seeing you laugh. Knowing you are happy and healthy and loved. Seeing you make things with your hands and talk about the things that make you happy. I am proud of you. You have grown so much in the last 21 years and I am happy to have been able to be a part of that. You are one of the best human beings I know. Your heart is giant, your compassion is great. I hope you know how much joy you bring to me. How, whenever I see you it makes my whole day. I hope you know that when you feel like the world is against you, when you feel like you are being kicked in the teeth, I am here.

First birthday!
Happy birthday Punkinseed. You make me so proud. It has been such a joy and privilege to be your mom and to raise you. Thank you for the countless times you have given me grace to
make mistakes as your mom. I hope you know I would take them all back and fix them if I could. But since I cannot do that, I want to be in this moment with you and celebrate all your successes, big and small. I want you to know that there is simply nothing I wouldn't do for you, if it is in my power to do it. I want you to know I am your biggest fan, I hope you know I am.

Thursday, March 24, 2016

On The Eve

We are told to lean on God in times of pain, or worry or stress. There are several passages in the Bible about it, my favorite is Psalm 18:2. And it's true, we should. I have wept many times in the lap of Jesus wrapped in his arms. The way to get through grief is in everyone's mouths when you tell them someone close to you died.

"It will be okay."

"It will get easier."   

                                                            "Just take one day at a time."

                                  "Be strong"

What no one tells you though, is even if you take it one day at a time, the pain doesn’t subside, it just gets easier to compartmentalize. It gets easier to choke back tears and smile when your entire body is really only wanting to convulse in tears and heart break. No one tells you the truth. The truth that losing someone you have deeply loved your entire life, that losing your hero is one of the most tragic pains you will ever feel. Losing a parent. It’s not for the weak of heart.

Here I sit on the eve of the 1 yr anniversary of that horrible 11:00pm phone call that shattered my world forever. That phone call everyone knows will come one day, but you are just never ready for it to actually be your turn to pick it up. Hearing my mom’s broken voice as she choked out the words, “dad is gone.” will forever be etched into my memories. Knowing full well no matter how much it was hurting me, no matter how much I would suffer over the next several days as we made arrangements and ordered the programs and looked through pictures, no matter how much I was hurting, I knew that my mom would be in a pain that is so intense and so deep, she would feel like drowning in it.

Telling the kids was hard. I could barely get the words out. Seeing the silent tears and hearing the audible sobs, knowing they had lost their beloved Papa. Those are sounds you can never unhear. I don’t really remember much after that until we pulled up at my mom and dad’s house. When I faced that front door, knowing as soon as I walked through it, I would instantly feel his absence from this earth, from our lives for good. The finality of it all. It was never going to be the same. Nothing would ever be the same again.

I walked through that front door and wrapped my arms around my mom and sobbed with her for a few moments. In those moments I remember just wanting nothing more than to hear it was all a bad misunderstanding. He was really going to be okay and would be walking through the door at any moment. But the stark reality of it was, that was never going to happen. I know that he had left the house that night to hang out with some of his friends, and he would never return. He was gone. Just gone. And none of us got to say good-bye. We never got to make sure he knew how important he was to us.

I always made sure to hug him and tell him I loved him before we parted ways, but in those moments you wonder… did he really know? Did he know how much he was loved? Did he know how much we needed him? How much I depended on him to be my North Star? He was the man who helped guide all of my most important life decisions along with the ones that may have seemed meaningless, but I always sought his wisdom. Now, I would never be able to pick up the phone again and ask his opinions or his advice. Now I would never get those text messages again that told me where he was at the moment, usually waiting on mom someplace. I would never hear his laugh or look into his eyes. I would never be able to wrap my arms around him again and tell him I love him.

I think about all the things we no longer have because he’s gone. But I also think about all the things we do have because he was in our lives. We have our inside jokes and all the things he said or did that made us laugh so hard. We have the memories of camping and fishing and swimming. Of playing Croquet and watching him so he didn’t cheat! I have the mental photographs of him in his police uniform and I can still hear his squeaky leather duty belt that held his gun and handcuffs and radio. I can still smell his Old Spice cologne and his KIWI shoe polish. I can see him in the kitchen making waffles on the morning after Thanksgiving alongside my daughter as he taught her how to make eggs. I can hear his voice as he read The Night Before Christmas. I can see him cutting the ham (that he more than likely was trying a new recipe for) at Easter dinner and teasing me because his batch of Grandma’s rolls came out better than mine. WAY better. I can see him sitting outside barbecuing and enjoying a cold beer. Reminiscing about the Coast Guard days with my uncle Gary. Or retelling his favorite childhood stories, about his old dog Major or the days of hell-raising he did with his best buddies. He loved to tell stories and I loved to listen. We also have memories of him singing along to his favorite songs. I got my love of music from him, at least I like to think so. I knew all the oldies, all the old country, Hank, George, Merle, Waylon and even Patsy. I knew them all and could sing along with him. He was also the only other person I knew besides me that would break out in songs when someone would say something that reminded us of a line from a song. I also remember all the lessons he taught me, all the times he was patient and calm, but stern.

I miss him every single day without fail. He is never far from my thoughts. I try to picture his face, and listen for his voice. I try to live my life in a way that would hopefully make him proud. Because there was nothing that meant more to me than to know he was proud of me. I like to picture him in Heaven with my grandparents and his brother Pat. I know he is up there looking down on us. Especially mom. I know he watches her to make sure she’s okay. The love he had for her was something you only read about in books. He looked at her with such love and it was obvious he was happy just being in her presence.

What I have learned in this year is that the pain of losing my daddy runs deep and it has knocked the wind out of me. I have learned that my grief is valid and it’s okay to still cry at the drop of a hat, a year later. Because I do. Even if I have to sneak away to the bathroom at work, or behind sunglasses in the car, it’s okay to cry and miss him. It’s okay to feel it and walk myself through that grief in any way I need to. It’s okay. I have also learned that I am strong. That my role in this family has changed. I had to walk through some ugly and not so fun stuff with my mom, like getting paperwork in order and seeing her make plans for when she passes. She made sure I knew what to do and what her wishes were. It was hard, and normally I would shy away from it, push it away, but I faced it head on with her. We got each other through the roughest few months and continue to pull each other through the really hard days. I’ve learned how to care for my mom and have spent every Sunday with her for the past year, which has made us closer than ever. I have learned how strong SHE is and have watched her walk through her grief and make no apologies for it. I’m proud of her. I’m proud of us.

I don’t know what this next year will bring us. I just know my daddy will not be far from my thoughts and heart. I know we will get through it as a family and be stronger for it.

Thursday, December 24, 2015

Wish You Were Here

Our whole lives we know it is inevitable. We know one day we will no longer walk this earth. We know it, but when it happens to someone we love it has the ability, the power, to flatten us. It can shatter our hearts, our souls, sometimes it shatters our lives if we let it.

In March I received that devastating phone call we all dread at 11:00pm. On March 25th I lost my daddy. I can still feel the gut-punch of those words spoken by my mom, "Dad died tonight." The words lingered in the air like fog. I heard her but I just wasn't understanding. All in one moment my life, the life of my family, especially the life of my mom, had changed forever.

My mind instantly went to, what was the last thing I said to him? What did I leave unsaid? Did he know how much he meant to me? Did he know how much I looked up to him. Did he know he was my one true hero? I know I told him all of these things, but even though I knew that, it still didn't feel like enough. He didn't hear it enough. He didn't know it enough. I didn't get to say it enough. And how, in the honest name of God, will I go on without my dad?  All these questions flooded me in those first few moments.

He died 6 days before my birthday. In the wake of all our grief and despair and confusion, my mom gave me the last birthday gift my dad would ever give me. A necklace that said, "My little girl yesterday, my friend today, my daughter forever. I love you"

Did he know those would be the last words he would ever tell me? Did he know those are the words I would need to hear the most from him after he was gone and could no longer tell me to my face? I opened the box and read those words and cried with deep powerful sobs. Not just because this is the last gift I would ever get from my dad, but because it was such a gift of the heart. From his heart to mine. I sobbed because God knew. Because it was proof that God knew what it was I was going to need to hear from my daddy. They both knew.

Losing my dad has proven to be the most difficult thing I have ever gone through. Some days are harder than others. On the days I feel strong, I think about all the memories I have. I think about the time we spent together. I relive my most special and favorite moments of being his daughter. The father daughter banquets, the board games he taught me to play, the times I disappointed him while growing up, the times I hoped I made him proud. Some of my most favorite moments though, are the ones that are just ours. When he walked me down the aisle, with tears in his eyes. The moments before the doors opened and I was there, holding his arm just in that moment with the first man I ever loved. The first time I saw him holding one of my babies. The look of pride on his face every time he looked into their tiny faces. The times that he would sneek around behind mom's back to buy her special Christmas gifts. He'd show me and always asked, "Do you think she'll like it?" That hopeful but excited tone in his voice. Wrapping his gifts for my mom was one of the greatest highlights of the holidays for me because it was just between he and I.

Today is my daddy's 69th birthday. Today I won't get to gather my family around the phone and call him to sing our annual, really badly sung birthday song and hear him chuckle when it was over. I won't get to bring him a card that I thoughtfully picked out and wrote something heartfelt inside of. Today I won't get to hug him, and tell him I love him and happy birthday. There will be no cake, no birthday gifts. Today, there will be tears. There will be the ever present pain and feeling of this missing presence in our world. But what I also hope for is the reality that we know how much he loved us. That we think about the times we did get to celebrate with him. I hope that in our moments of grief today, we feel him with us. Because I believe he is.

I know he will never read this, but I wanted to tell my dad one last time:

I miss you every day. I hope you know how much you are loved. I know you are looking down on us, especially mom. I hope you spend time with her and let her know you are there. I know I feel you with me sometimes. I just wish I could hug you. I wish that today, I could bring you another book I just know you'll love, but you'll never get all the way through because you fall asleep while you're reading. I wish I could sit down with you and ask your advice about what to do about our kitchen. I wish I could sit down with you and hear more stories about life in the Coast Guard, or on the farm. Or the crazy stories of you and John and Mike. I just want to hear your voice one more time. Just once. Okay maybe twice. No, even twice wouldn't be enough. I just want you back.
Dad, I want you to know that I'm trying. I try every day to make you proud of the daughter you raised. I try to instill in my children the things you taught me. I talk about you as often as I can, because I want everyone to know what kind of man my dad was. I am proud to be your daughter. You are the strongest, kindest, most loyal man I ever knew. You are everything a daughter could have ever wanted. I hope you know I am taking care of mom as best I can. She is taking care of us too. We are going to be alright. We will get through. One day at a time. Okay, one moment at a time. We are all so happy that you are no longer in pain. You are able to sit down with your loved ones in heaven and talk about the old days. That brings us peace. We think about you every day and look forward to seeing you again some day. I love you daddy. Thank you for all you did for me. Thank you for always forgiving me and showing me what it meant to be unconditionally loved.

I love you to the moon and back,
Your daughter

Thursday, March 6, 2014

I Did Not Sign Up For This Job

Today was one of those days when I leave work and cannot help but say, I do not get paid enough for this job. As some of you may know, part of my job description at work, which is also our church, is administrative assistant. Basically, I answer phones, greet people as they come in, guide visitors to various pastors and staff.

Frankly speaking, seeing how the church works "behind the scenes" has been very eye opening and has both rattled and deepened my faith in God. But that isn't what this is about. What I am talking about is when I signed up for my particular job, I did not sign up to do what I have done twice, in as many months. Let me explain.

Last month, our church had a luncheon and I was helping all morning and was there checking everyone in. Almost everyone was checked in, and I felt the need to get back to the office and get some work done. I was not sitting in my chair for more than a minute when the phone rang. On the other end of the phone was a woman who was a "researcher for the 700 Club", yeah right lady! Sure! I entertained her call for a few moments while she told me why she was calling. She was looking for a gentleman who attended our church who was a walking miracle. I, myself am the daughter of a walking miracle, so hearing that made me perk up a bit. As she continued she only said the man's name, which I recognized, and she said the 700 Club wanted to interview him for a segment they were doing on the show.

Now, answering the phone at a church, you do get a lot of strange calls. Some of them are even legit! But there are some, like this particular one, that makes you really wonder if it's real. I mean, how likely was it that I had come back at just the right time, to catch this very phone call? Oh yeah! I work for God, and we all know He's not a God of coincidence. So I took her information down and hung up. Still not 100% convinced it wasn't just a scam.

So I called the gentleman she was asking about and his wife picked up. I explained to her the call I received and that I really wasn't sure if it was just a scam or something. What happened next completely rocked me and it made me even more certain that I had done the right thing in calling. She told me about how her husband, years earlier had been diagnosed with multiple tumors on his lungs. He had a sure death sentence and he was told to get his affairs in order. They came to church the following weekend and told the Pastor and his wife, who immediately gathered around them and prayed for him, for his health, for a miraculous healing. Long story short, this man is cancer free. His tumors are gone. And doctors cannot explain it. He is a miracle. This wife and I spoke for almost 30 minutes. I told her the story of my dad and she and I celebrated our walking miracles together. I was so blessed by hearing this story. I was so grateful for that time with her and before we hung up she told me that I had blessed HER by calling her and listening as she told that story.

The second one just happened yesterday/today. Yesterday, I was getting ready to walk out the door at the end of my day when the phone rang. I turned back and answered. She was an elderly woman who was calling on a whim. Who wasn't even sure if I could or would help her. She was unsure whether or not she even had the right information. She was looking for her cousin, whose husband is a pastor at a 4 Square Church (she thinks) and all she had was her first and last name. She told me about some of the memories she had of her cousin and as she reminisced you could just hear the joy in them. I explained to her that I had never heard the name, and if I had I could not give her that information. I took down her information, the few tidbits of information she had on her cousin, I told her IF I could do anything, it wouldn't be until tomorrow and let her know I would call her back either way, so she wasn't wondering. Then we hung up.

As I came into work today, I saw my note from yesterday, with her information. I decided I would look up the name she gave me, convinced it would be a dead end. It wasn't. I found the woman and her email address and sent her a detailed letter about the phone call I received. Gave her the woman's name and phone number and asked her to let me know if it is her this woman is looking for because I would call the woman back and let her know it was a dead end. Much to my surprise, I received a phone call from the cousin. She explained when she read my email she had no idea who I was talking about. She did not recognize the names. So she called her sister, who immediately recognized it. She then reminded her who this woman was. The lady on the other end of the line said that it was such a gift to hear from family like this. It was just she and her sister now and so having family out there and being able to reconnect was a blessing. She told me the woman had grown up in a rough family. Had come to live with her and her family for 6 months. She was not sure this woman knew Jesus and said to me, "I wonder if this is God's way of connecting us, so she can come to know the Lord." This conversation completely moved me to tears. I really feel that it is exactly why this woman, who is now 72 years old, is reaching out for her cousin, who is married to a pastor. Not only for the familial connection, but maybe... possibly, also to give her life, finally, to Jesus. I told the lady on the phone that I was going to pray for that. They are set to meet here in town and reconnect.

So, as I said before, I didn't sign up for this. I signed up for a basic job, at a church and had no idea the lives that would connect with mine over that phone. These two people are not the only ones that have touched me over the years. But they are the two that stand out in my heart. The two that touched me in a way only God stories can. I didn't sign up for it, but I am so grateful to be able to have this job so I can hear stories and be a part, even a small, miniscule part of someone else's God story.

What a blessing.

And just so you know, that woman in the first story who claimed to be from the 700 Club, was truly who she said she was. The 700 Club IS interviewing this couple for a segment on their program. So if you're a 700 Club viewer, you will see this man's story and your life will be touched as well.

Friday, June 28, 2013

What I Learned In June

I have recently been inspired to make a list of things I learned in June.

Here we go:
1. Sergeant Stubby. If you don't know about this war hero, don't feel alone. Until a couple of weeks ago, I didn't either. In a few brief words I will tell you who he was. He was a stray pit bull who was adopted by a soldier in the 102nd Infantry 26th Yankee Division in WW1. He became a hero because he ended up saving lives. What I need to know is, why is this not a movie? Come on Hollywood! Enough with the Hangover movies, let's make a movie about something real. Learn more about SGT. Stubby.

2. I am an introvert. Alright seriously, I always kind of knew this, but this month I have decided to embrace it. No more will I look at the label introvert, as a bad thing. I like my quiet time. I like my alone time. I don't do well in crowds or with groups of people for long periods of time. I don't particularly like attending weddings and showers or parties because they are generally attended by lots of people I don't know. Being an introvert while being the mom of 4 and a wife isn't always easy or convenient but it is reality and it's time I accept it.

3.I am OBSESSED with shows about history. Two of my current favorites are Mysteries At The Museum and Monumental Mysteries. I am constantly looking into and reading things about people I had no idea existed, events I had no idea happened or simply, fun tidbits of history that make up our great world. I love it. The more I learn, the more I want to learn.

4. Pinterest has taught me I WANT to be more organized, be a better cook, a creative baker and a more creative home interiors designer, but I will likely never do half the things I "pin" about. It has taught me I want to be and do better and that it is obtainable, as long as I don't seek perfection.

5. Being the mom of a high school graduate isn't as hard as I thought it would be. I cried and had anxiety about my oldest child graduating high school. I have learned that it doesn't really feel any differently than when he was in school. However, this is likely going to change once September hits and he's not going back to high school. So for this one I will add a "to be continued"...

So I guess in a nutshell, I've learned a lot about myself. It just proves that we never really ever stop growing and learning. The important part is learning and moving forward at the same time.

This has certainly been an eye opening experience. I may just have to make another list in July!

What have you learned in June?

Thursday, October 11, 2012

Truth is...

I don't ever want you to be mistaken about me. I am what most people would consider a happy woman. I'm surrounded by a family that loves me. I have a husband that still looks at me like he's newly in love. My kids are funny and creative and ornery and interesting. They're all genius in their own way. I could go on for days about my kids! We live a typical suburban life. I consider myself a Christian in process. Meaning only that I am forever growing in my faith. In my understanding of what the Bible really means. I'm learning every day how to pray for myself and my family. However, I'm not the kind of person who looks at a situation and instantly finds Jesus in it. Sometimes I swear. Sometimes I make fun of people, not always to their face. I often disagree with other Christian's on religion, gay rights and whether or not we should ever get divorced. I have my opinions on abortions and sex before marriage. I have a whole slew of opinions that would make my pastor gasp!

What I believe is, God loves us so much He sent us His only Son to die in place of us, for the sins we just won't stop committing. I believe Jesus died for me (and you too) and that He loves us. ALL of us. Even the people doing time on death row for murder. Even that homeless man who flies a piece of cardboard that says "Anything helps." Even you, on your worst day, when you scream the "F" word at the driver who cut you off in traffic.

I used to care what people would think of me if they knew my life story. I used to be afraid to tell people the things in my life that aren't happy and shiny. Ask me and I will share my testimony with you, because I do have one. We all have one. If you ask me, be prepared to listen because I will tell you, in detail what I went through, what I've overcome and how I prevailed. I will share with you how God has taught me more than all my years in school.

What I'm really beginning to understand is that what really truly matters is my walk with God and the people who surround me every day. The 5 other people who make up my family. They are the ones I most value. They are the ones I cling to and want to hide away with when things in my life aren't pretty and shiny. No one makes me laugh as much as my husband and children. No man on this earth makes me feel more loved, more alive than the man I married over 17 years ago. My kids make me more proud than I ever dreamed. What matters is them. What matters is Jesus. As long as I have my family and Jesus in my circle, I can get through the worst of times.

I am pretty certain in this next season of my life I will piss a LOT of people off. I may lose friends (but if I really lose them, were they truly my friends to begin with?). The truth is, I can only be me. And, I am learning who that is more and more each and every day. I won't ever pretend I'm perfect or have all the answers, but what I can promise is I am always just me.

Saturday, December 24, 2011

Mary Christmas

My mind has been consumed this year by thoughts of Mary. As a mom, a wife, as a woman, I cannot imagine how Mary must have felt when she was chosen to carry the Christ child! Our savior... her savior. How must she have felt knowing she was solely responsible to bring this baby into the world. How would I feel knowing my precious baby boy was going to save the lives of everyone who followed Him? How she must have felt knowing people would FOLLOW her son and be saved. The pride, but also the fear of knowing what the end would be. Giving birth knowing you would then watch him tortured and then killed. We try to remember what Christ did for us. How he wiped away our sins. How no matter where we are or what we're doing, God is with us. But those days Jesus walked the earth, he felt pain and sadness, happiness and hunger. He felt thirst and merriment. Do we ever stop and think about Mary? The sacrifice SHE gave to us. As a mom it breaks my heart imagining those days leading up to his crucifixion. How her heart must have broken. How her momma bear instincts must have been in over drive, but being unable to do anything because this is why He was born. This year, I am celebrating the birth of our Savior. But I am also celebrating Mary's greatest gift to the world. Her sacrifice. In the whole scheme of things it isn't like she had a choice right? I like to believe that even though she knew the ending, she knew what the greater outcome would be. Her son would save the world, with his death and resurrection. He gave up the crown for a cradle, for us. Read my renditions of each person on the night of Christ's birth.

Through the eyes of the donkey

Through the eyes of the innkeeper

Through the eyes of Joseph

Through the eyes of Mary

Through the eyes of Jesus

I hope you all have a Merry Christmas. Remember.. it's not about the presents, it's about being present.