“Christmas? Forget it. It’s not for me. I like the quiet. For a girl like me, holidays are overwhelming. But my mom loves to decorate. She puts up 5 Christmas trees. She goes all out. She begged me to go outside with her to look at them. I didn’t want to. I couldn’t care less. Just then it hit me. She cares. It’s important to her.”
“I have my fair share of stares out in public. People ask, ‘Are you babysitting?’ My response is, ‘No, they’re mine.’ Love is love no matter what color you are.”
“I constantly worry about being the best wife, mother, employee, and creative. But the truth is, I’m not afraid to struggle because I know I’m not alone! I imagine the millions of other women, just like me, who aspire to master the art of being the wife every husband prays for.”
“I was so drugged and drained physically my milk didn’t come in for days. My husband said, ‘As long as our baby is healthy and happy everything else doesn’t matter.’ But I didn’t feel the same. I was hopeless. We’d get the pre-made formula so we didn’t have to do any mixing when we left the house and no one would know. It was so stressful.”
“4 days after Christmas, it was a beautiful sunny day. ‘I want to ride the trails,’ my husband said. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to go?’ It got dark. By 5:30, I was encouraged to call 911. ‘My husband hasn’t returned,’ I told the dispatcher. Panic filled my soul. ‘Finding him is not our priority,’ I was told. I called my kids, who were forced to locate their dad on foot. I’ll never forget their faces. As I walked toward the trail, my son begged me not to get any closer.”
“As I sat staring at the tree, silently pleading with God for direction, my doorbell rang. I made my way to the door, opened it and looked out – no one stood there. I looked down. To my surprise on the porch sat a glass jar piggy bank full of money. I read the card and started to cry. In a child’s handwriting, scribbled on a makeshift card, read the most beautiful little words.”
“Celia has severe autism and her meltdowns have become much more aggressive. I was pregnant with baby #5 at the time. And homeschooling. In a construction zone. Every day. I packed my 10-year old daughter Cora up and sent her off unaccompanied on a flight to Atlanta, to spend December with her sister and her dad. It’s hard for me to navigate with all of them on my own.”
“I used to stand on the sidelines of my kids’ games and listen closely to the rich moms. My stomach dropped, my defenses rose every time: Must be nice to live that way. Do they have any idea what it’s like to have $40 left 10 days before payday? I was righteous. It made me feel better to put them down. A simple request from my teen daughter one morning put me on a journey of changing my reverse-pride.”
“I almost died on the operating table while my husband was talking to other women. ‘He said you’re giving him a hard time about not coming to visit you. You need to be more independent and let him do his duties.’ I was physically and emotionally broken. I didn’t care if I survived.”
“I found out Jonathan was colorblind when he was 9 years old. I never quite understood the extent it affected him. Today, in his science class, he received color-correcting glasses from his teacher for the first time ever. ‘Mom, look at that flashing OPEN sign! I had no idea! Do you see how bright red and blue the letters are?! I could look at this all day!’ I was blown away.”
