Twenty two years ago my mama gave birth to me and was not allowed to hold me. The doctors rushed me to children's hospital with little hope of my survival. All I had was my mother's prayers.
After eleven days of prayers and tears I went home...home for the first time. And I haven't been back since.
What would we do without our mothers' prayers? What a gift we have in our mothers.
I remember going on adventures with my brother through the woods. We would play for hours, dreaming the world around us into being. Sticks were weapons, utensils, batons. Trees were houses, forts, towers. The rustling of the leaves was a monster, a great storm, a breeze in a magical land. Our feet carried us to many distant lands. Explorers we were. Explorers we still are.
What a gift we have in our brothers.
I remember staring as my sister so carefully put on her make-up in front of the mirror. I thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world. Nothing made me happier than for her to drive me places and let me enjoy life with her. We would watch movies, eat lots of food, listen to music, make up funny words, and giggle. Always giggle. I was never more myself than when I was with her. The same is true today.
What a gift we have in our sisters.
Nothing is more contagious than my daddy's laugh. It cleans cobwebs out of corners and brightens rooms by 100 vaults. I remember him picking me up and carrying me with him until I got too big. I wanted so badly to be a big girl and be independent, but I loved being carried by my daddy.
What a gift we have in our fathers.
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