We have finished our family wedding season. SBC was married more than once to the same lovely person in April. And TBC celebrated her marriage (which happened previously in a courthouse) last weekend. Now we rest.
As I shared last Saturday night during the toasts, when FBC was born, my mom died two months later of cancer. When SBC was born, my dad died four months later of cancer. When TBC was born, nobody died. All three of these kids saved my life. Or – better said – God saved my life through them . . . and Jesus.
Not surprisingly, I haven’t written a blog post lately and this one is just about the family. And I’ll have more to say eventually. But mostly I’m thinking about how incredibly fortunate and privileged we are.
If you helped us raise our kids – thank you. A Nana and until 2020 a PopPop – plus Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, Sibs, Nibs, Teachers, Coaches, Team Parents, Teammates, Pastors, Church Members, Five Different Preaching Groups, The Pearls, Playmates, Classmates, Their Friends’ Parents, Neighbors, That Scary-Looking Lady in the Grocery Store Who Turned Out to Be Beautiful, Roommates, Authors, Movie Makers, Professors, Counselors, Principals, Doctors, Nurses – Especially The One Named Gabriel on Christmas Eve at the University of Chicago Hospital, X-Ray Techs, Scholarship Committees, Bosses, Mr. Pat At Bradlee Shopping Center. And Now Lots Of In-Laws.
They’ll keep on being our kids no matter how long they (or we) live. Our hearts are full.
A Church for Starving Artists 