Day 10…I am thankful I am still at this. Ha.
It’s Day 10 and it is also the 10th day of November. Which happens to be my big brother’s birthday. So let me give a shout out to my brother John! Woot! Woot! You’re old, but I love you!
“You don’t choose your family. They are God’s gift to you, as you are to them.” ~Desmond Tutu
- I am very thankful for having been born into my family.
- I am thankful for the blessing of having parents who have always supported me, prayed for me without ceasing and taught me the meaning of unconditional love.
- I am so grateful and fortunate to have married into the family I did.
I was born the middle child and only girl to a preacher dad and home maker mom. It has been said that I am the favorite child, but I disagree. I would say that distinction belongs to my baby brother. But I digress…
I always knew I was loved. I always felt secure. I knew that there was nothing I could do to make my parents love me less. My parents have always supported me, even though I am sure there were times they did not agree with decisions I was making. But I never felt judged. Or that my feelings were unimportant. My parents taught me about the love of Jesus. About prayer. About marriage. Love. Family. Faith. Generosity. Compassion.
SIDEBAR: Yes, they say preachers’ kids are the worst. Sometimes that is true, sometimes not…depends on which kid we’re talking about here. Suffice it to say, that we all have our not-so-proud moments. Can I get an amen from any of my fellow PKs?? (Maybe one day I’ll share some of my not-so-proud moments, but for now, you will just have to trust me.)
My family wasn’t perfect. Isn’t perfect. By any means. Oh, we’re a little nutty! But we love each other. We are there for each other. And I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that if I needed them, they would drop everything and come. And I would do the same. There is nothing more comforting than knowing that you are loved. And the gratitude I feel for that, well, cannot adequately be described in words.
In 1983, I met my Hubby. In 1989, I married him…and I married his family. When you marry the man, you DO marry his family. I don’t care what people say—you do. Fortunately for me, I married into one of the good ones! And like my own family, they were not and are not perfect, but they are great people who raised a great son. I simply cannot relate to the horror stories some people tell about their in-laws.
Something you should know is that when I was in the 11th grade, my hubby’s mom was my English teacher. That same year, I had his oldest sister as my homeroom teacher and his uncle for US History. You could say that I was surrounded. And to say that they probably saw me in some of my not-so-great moments (as a crazy, hormonal teenager) would probably be accurate. And yet, a few short years later, I was a permanent fixture in their lives.
You could say I have a strong personality and freely share my opinions. Bull in a china shop comes to minds here. No doubt, they had their misgivings about me. But over the years, they have never been anything but loving and supportive of me, of my Sweetie, of our marriage and of our parenting. I have always been treated like one of their daughters. Always. And they already had three of those when I came on the scene!
I am just. so. grateful.
But could we all live together without driving each other nuts?? Hrm…not sure…even though I do wish for my compound…