One Word

About a week after no contact with TA and phones glued to our sides, we were anxious to know how he was doing. Had he started the training? How’s the food? Has he made friends? What is like? Was he regretting his decision? We weren’t worried. We knew he was safe. We just wanted to know some details. On Sunday afternoon, a week after we dropped him off, we finally got a call. We were relieved to hear that he was just as excited as the day he left. His spirits were high, and his anticipation of the next thing was great. He was in a waiting or holding process on the base at Fort Benning. I believe he called it 30th AG which is the reception of recruits before basic begins. Here, they get their supplies, clothing, haircuts, and some training on site. TA was told that 30th AG could last anywhere from 1 week to 3 weeks. He still wasn’t sure of the time frame of when he would officially begin basic, but he assured us that he was doing well. His decision to join the Army was continuing to be confirmed.

On this particular Sunday, recruits had been given phone time and they all sat under this huge pavilion making calls to loved ones, catching up on social media and texting friends. His head was buzzed, and he was looking more like a soldier. However, he didn’t have his official uniform on yet, so he still resembled a civilian. He told us that he was eating well, sleeping well, and having a good bit of idle time as they waited to “ship out.” They weren’t actually going anywhere, but I’ve learned the term “ship out” is used when soldiers are moving onto the next thing. He smiled a lot; told us he loved us and was praying for us each day. He even said he started a Bible study with another guy on base. He did say that many of the recruits were not enjoying the experience and were wanting to quit already. After our brief chat, he face timed his sister and dad in England, and his brother, who was at the gym. Everyone was glad to hear from him. His unexpected “hello” was a bright spot in our day!

About 4 days later, we received another face time but this time, he looked like the real deal. He was dressed in his army fatigues with patches that read U.S. Army on one side and his name on the other. He wore a cap with small symbol signifying his rank of a private. He called to let us know that he would begin basic the next day. He told us that the beginning of basic starts with something called “red phase.” This is a three-week period where he would undergo intense training to basically strip him of all civilian habits and turn him into a soldier. It sounded a bit extreme and super exhausting. Other than the fact that he had a bit of a cold due to all the vaccinations the army mandated he receive, he was still pumped for the journey ahead. We talked for a few minutes as he shared with us about guys he had met. We could hear drill sergeants yelling in the background and watched him stand in respond with a “yes drill sergeant.” We continued to remind him of our love and support and that we would be praying for him daily. He responded with, “I’ll be praying for you guys too.” We smiled with pride as we watched our young son on the other side of the screen get ready to do a really grown-up thing. I couldn’t help but look at his face and be reminded of all the times he dressed up as a child. Those days were long gone. He was now this grown man with a passion to serve and lead. We said our goodbyes knowing it would be a while before we talked again.

To my surprise, the next day while I was at school, I received a call. It was from Brooks. “Hello?” I answered. He promptly replied and asked me to get a pen and paper. He told me he was going to read me something, and I should write down the information he gives me. He was very direct and read with somewhat of an urgency. I struggled to take notes as quickly as he was giving me information. When I asked him to slow down or repeat, he just kept reading. I was somewhat panicked at this point and the notes I was taking looked more like chicken scratch than actual words. By the time the phone call ended, I was shaking and wishing I had better listening skills! I was hoping my husband had gotten a similar call and had taken better notes. He had not. We spent 20 minutes deciphering my notes the next morning and came up with something that resembled an address for sending him mail.

Since that phone call, I’ve sent 3 letters. I have no idea if they’ve made it to him because come to find out, I was a little off on the address. Just last night we received a letter from his commanding officer with the correct address. We don’t know when we will hear from him next but we are staying connected through a FB page that was also included in the letter. We saw 2 photos of him training. It was pretty cool to see him in action. For now, we wait for the next hello.

It’s hard to believe that three years have passed since my last post. I started this blog as a way to process all the difficulties and remember the events that surrounded my mom’s life as a quadriplegic. Yesterday marked the 3rd anniversary of her homegoing. I miss her daily. I often want to pick up the phone and call her but then realize I can’t. One day we will be reunited in heaven. I believe that with all my heart. I don’t know how much time will pass before that happens, but I do know that while there is still time, I am called to persevere and finish my race here on Earth.

So much has taken place over the last three years. I could honestly write a book. However, I am going to shift the focus of my blog to a new topic that reflects one of the major events taking place in my life. I have become the mother of a soldier. My youngest child (I’ll refer to him as TA) has enlisted in the U.S. Army and is at basic training in Fort Benning, Georgia. At the suggestion of a friend, I am going to use this platform to document all the details of the experience. So, here we go….

Back in December of 2024, TA came to us with an overwhelming excitement of wanting to enlist in the military. He was 19 and a freshman in college at the time. We loved his enthusiasm and encouraged him to move forward by finding out as much as he could about this pursuit. We also told him that our desire for him would be to stay in school and join ROTC so he could get his education. TA talked to his recruiters in Kentucky and other experienced military men. He even began reading books about the right path to take. It seemed as though there were several options and paths he could take to stay in school and also begin his military career. Throughout this period, we could see that his excitement for a military career was continuing to increase and his desire to remain in school was growing less. After many discussions, much prayer, and a lot of consideration, he did not return to school for his sophomore year. In fact, he left for basic training on September 8th, 2025. Although we wanted to see him finish out his schooling, we could not deny the passion and enthusiasm he displayed on a daily basis. So, we surrendered our position and gave him full support of moving forward into his military pursuit.

We left the house at 4:30am on September 8th to drive him to MEPS (military entrance process station) where he would be “shipped out” for basic training. (Prior to this, he had gone to MEPS to swear in as a soldier in the U.S. Army and sign a 6-year contract with the military.) My husband and I were not allowed on the base, so we dropped him off at the gate, said a quick goodbye, and left the premises to wait for a call from him as to when we could return to see him off to basic. After two hours of waiting at a nearby Chick-Fil-A, we got in touch with Brooks and were told that we would not be allowed back on the base to say goodbye or see him off. Because he had enlisted in the National Guard and had already completed his swearing in, he would not be taking part in another swearing in before getting on the bus. Only active recruits were allowed to have family members on the base for the sendoff. With disappointed hearts, my husband and I got back in the car and headed home. That was it. Our brief goodbye would have to suffice. He was in the trustworthy hands of the military now.

Later that afternoon, we got a couple texts from Brooks as he rode on the bus to Fort Benning. He knew this would be one of the last times he was able to communicate with us because his phone would be turned off and taken away. We told him to get some rest on the bus, to which he replied, “Are you kidding me? I’m way to excited to sleep.”

Sure enough, that was the last we would hear from him. We knew he was at Fort Benning because Life 360 showed his location. We knew nothing else except that time would pass slowly as we waited to hear from him.

Our beloved mom left this earthly home on Thursday evening. All 4 of us, Matt, Jenn, dad and I, were gathered around her bedside when she took her last breath. The hours before she passed, we were able to sit with her throughout the day. Because the hospice nurse shared with us that patients near the end of life, although nonresponsive, can still hear and feel, I put one of my earbuds in her ear and played music filled with God’s promises. He Will Hold Me Fast, I Want the Healer, It is Well with My Soul, Closing the Distance, etc. were all songs that reminded her over and over of God’s love for her and the assurance of her future home in Heaven.

It was a long 14 years of suffering. She fought the battle well. I am confident that she is whole, free, and not thinking about anything she left behind because she is in a far better and Glorious Place now. She is in Heaven where this is no pain, no tears, no suffering. The day before she passed, she wasn’t able to communicate clearly. However, Jenn and I both heard her say, “home.” We believe she was saying she was ready to go home. At last, she is there.

So many people have faithfully prayed for mom and our family over the years since her accident. Those people were like Aaron and Hur going to the top of the hill with us and holding up our hands when we grew weary (Exodus 17). A simple thank you seems inadequate, but appropriate. Thank you.

Our mom was spectacular. She loved us well. She was gentle and kind. Her heart was big. She was the glue that held our family together. She made sure that our family sat down at the dinner table on a regular basis and enjoyed not only her good cooking, but family time together. She baked wonderful treats and desserts and developed in us all an obnoxious sweet tooth. She took care of us in such a way that we never doubted her love for us. We are fortunate and forever grateful for the impact she had on our lives. We mourn her absence but rejoice that her body is healed, and her soul is with the Healer in Heaven.

Many have asked how mom and dad have been. I don’t have much of an answer these days. Since they returned to South Carolina in December of 2022, we haven’t had many conversations. It’s been rather silent and sad if I’m honest. I admit I was angry and hurt when dad came to Atlanta to move mom back to Rock Hill. I wasn’t angry at them but frustrated with the choice they were making. I knew it wasn’t good for them and the distance that they were going to put between us was too great. It’s hard to help when you are 4 and 1/2 hours away from each other. Plus, we had done a lot to get her here and we were hoping that this would be her home, as well as my dad’s home. But alas, it just wasn’t a fit for them. My frustration and anger have been replaced by apathy. I’m embarrassed to say that, but if I’m being completely transparent that is the word that comes to my mind. I haven’t lost a passion for loving them, but a passion has been lost for the hope that I had for them being here and living close to our family. I still pray for them daily. Their life is extremely difficult no matter where they live.

I knew full well that mom wasn’t happy here in Atlanta, and all she wanted was to be with dad. Dad, I assume, felt guilty about the distance between them and didn’t like seeing her unhappy. Because he was unwilling to move to Atlanta, the only option was to take mom back to Rock Hill. I know that neither of them loved Atlanta nor did they see it as a home for themselves. They didn’t like the traffic; they wouldn’t have the same neighbors or doctors. It would have been a hard reset and certainly not an easy one. Rock Hill was familiar and, in a sense, easier because of that familiarity.

I’ve talked to them only a handful of times. They hired a caregiver, but she’s already said she can’t continue to work for them and has found another job. They’ve exhausted their efforts with elderly or nursing homes in the area. Elderly homes are not equipped to handle mom’s care in accordance with dad’s expectations. Rightly so, his expectations are high. He wants his bride to be cared for with the utmost concern and respect. He isn’t willing to let go of much control. As of February 12, 2023, he has cared for her for 14 years. He certainly knows how to do it by now. He knows what works, what doesn’t, what she likes, what she doesn’t. He knows, like nobody else, he knows. However, after 14 years, he’s tired. But he still keeps caring for her and she for him. It is an incredible and heartbreaking love story.

To answer the question that so many are asking, my parents seem to be doing fine, all circumstances considered. The caregiver comes to help when she can, but they are actively looking for a backup. Mom is the same as she’s been, no new health issues that I’m aware of. My dad’s health seems to be good from what he says. He’s been back on the tennis court a couple times. He still makes many trips to the grocery store, cooks, cleans, and does laundry. Most importantly, he takes care of all of mom’s needs on a daily basis. It’s a lot for a man who is pushing 80 and suffered a stroke. I assume they are content with the decision they made to be at home in Rock Hill. I haven’t heard otherwise. I guess all is well, or as my dad says, “other than that, things are just ducky.”

I am often inspired by song lyrics. I love music and how it speaks to my soul. It is powerful, and most recently, I’ve been listening to “Gratitude” by Brandon Lake. Listen to it here: https://youtu.be/PzH8d4PIQsc

This song sums up my feelings as 2022 comes to a close. With all that has happened, and all that I’ve walked through, I find myself resting in true gratitude for what the Lord has done. Life is wonderful, no doubt, but it is also difficult because we live in an imperfect world that is full of pain and suffering. And what I have found this year is that the hardships I’ve endured have led me to a place of peace and more importantly gratitude. I have been reminded over and over of the importance of being thankful, and that has made all the difference.

My parents are back in Rock Hill and doing well. I haven’t called them much. I think part of me is still bitter about the move back to South Carolina. However, I know God is teaching me through all of this. He has a lot of work to do because I, like my dad, am stubborn. I think I know what is best and I oftentimes get bent out of shape when things don’t go my way. But I know that this life isn’t about things going my way or me being in control. It’s about me learning how to trust and live a life worthy of my calling, and my greatest calling is to glorify the ONE who made me. When my focus is on glorifying God, it changes my perspective and my response. So, I am thankful that mom and dad are together again in Rock Hill. In fact, they celebrated 57 years of marriage on the day he drove her back home. That’s a happy ending and certainly something for which to be thankful.

Another sweet event that occurred after mom left Atlanta was a sing-along at Ridge Manor, mom’s former home in Canton. I had previously made arrangements with the owner for myself and a friend to go and sing Christmas carols with the residents on December 22nd. What prompted me to offer this to the owner was the fact that my mom was a resident at the time. Well, she left on December 17th. However, my friend and I decided that we should still go and sing Christmas carols. We did, and it was one of the highlights of the holiday season for both of us. My talented friend played guitar and lead us in singing familiar Christmas carols. To our amazement, a couple of the residents who normally don’t converse, began to sing with us. They remembered the tunes and even the words. They smiled. They were full of joy. My friend and I were so touched by their responses. The gratitude we felt that day was immense! We went to Ridge Manor out of obligation, out of a promise made, but we left encouraged and full. It was another joyous conclusion.

I do not know what tomorrow holds, but I do know the ONE who holds it. I am certain there will be joys in 2023. There will also be pain and struggle. I don’t say that to sound like a cynic. I simply want to be realistic. As I’ve celebrated the advent of Jesus this Christmas, I’ve reflected on His life. He was “a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief” (Isaiah 53:3), yet he experienced immeasurable joy and endless gratitude in His life. He healed people and saw their responses of faith and GRATITUDE. He fed thousands and saw their responses of fullness and GRATITUDE. He forgave people and saw their responses of humility and GRATITUDE. Oh, that I might be that one who lives a life filled with GRATITUDE, even amid the trouble, because my eyes are fixed on the only ONE that can stir up in me a response of authentic GRATITUDE.

So, I end this year of 2022 with this quote from Brandon Lake’s “Gratitude.”

“So, I throw up my hands and praise you again and again, cause all that I have is a hallelujah, hallelujah. And I know it’s not much, but I’ve nothing else fit for a King, except for a heart singing hallelujah, hallelujah.”

We’ve all heard the cliche “Home is where the heart is.” And if you read scripture, you are familiar with the verse from Matthew 6:21 that states, “Where your treasure is there will your heart be also.” But what do these words really mean and are they true? I’ve spent time recently reflecting on and examining these statements against my own life and the current situation in which I find myself with my parents.

It is clear that my dad is my mom’s treasure. Therefore, her heart is with him and wherever he is. She can’t make Atlanta her home because he is not here. Much to my chagrin, my dad has remained in Rok Hill while mom has been here in Atlanta. Once the doctor gave him permission to travel, he did come for a visit. However, next week, he will visit and then take mom back home. They will be 4.5 hours away from all three of their children and their families. I struggle to accept their decision, but I know I have no choice. I just can’t wrap my head around the fact that my dad won’t move here and make this place home. When I tell the story to others, the natural question is, “Why doesn’t your dad just move here?” I don’t know what to say or how to respond. I don’t have an answer for that question. Quite honestly, I feel somewhat defeated because I don’t know why he wouldn’t want to make Atlanta his home with his whole family being here. What is it that holds my dad’s heart, and furthermore, why doesn’t his family do that? Why does his home have to be in Rock Hill?

I know, as a believer in Jesus Christ, that our treasure is not found here on earth. Our treasure is Jesus, and our home is ultimately with Him in heaven. But there is this in-between time, with which we have to deal. So, as we wait for our future home, we make this world our temporary home. We build houses of out brick and wood and call them home. We find things that we love and call them treasures here on earth. We hold all these things dear, hopefully not gripping too tightly, but always being willing to adjust and change, remembering these treasures are only temporary. However, I wrestle with the stubbornness of my dad and his decision to remain in Rock Hill and even take mom back there. He doesn’t loosen his grip, and he doesn’t want the change. He holds tightly to the comforts of his life in Rock Hill, his home, his treasure. Would it be easy for him to move here? Not at all. Maybe that’s the simple reason for all of this. It’s just too difficult. Whatever the reason, I’m slowly learning to embrace the reality of his decision that Rock Hill is their home, even though it isn’t my choice.

Recently I was talking to a dear friend who is a few steps ahead of me in life. She and her husband do not live near their grown children. After reading my last post, she told me that she and her husband are taking notes for the future. She doesn’t want to make life difficult for her grown children when the time comes that they would need help. I am sure my parents feel the same way. However, what I think my parents fail to realize is that being 4.5 hours apart makes things very difficult. My siblings and I can’t help them in the way we want to. We can’t be there for them in emergency situations. Honestly, we don’t want to go through the trauma of having to scramble again like we did when my dad had a stroke. We had put our lives on hold because of the distance between us. We knew what we had to do, and we did it. We did it out of love and honor for our parents.

It was very difficult to establish a home here for mom. We had to set up the doctors, get the power of attorney, arrange medical equipment and supplies, therapy visit, etc. All that seems quite easy but dealing with paperwork, Medicare, and doctors might be some of the most frustrating things one has to do in today’s world! The thought of having to do all that again is intimidating. Don’t get me wrong, we wanted to bring mom here, and we have thoroughly enjoyed being able to visit her and spend time with her. We’ve seen her more over the past month than we were able to see her all last year. It has been a good thing, and what a joy it would be to have them both here! But as my dear friend shared her perspective with me, she said things that resonated with me and gave me insight into how my dad and mom probably feel. She said, “after we finish a day’s work, we like to go to our home, sleep in our bed, and have our time.” She continued to share with me that those small things are treasures. I think she was trying to tell me that even though she wants to take notes and prepare for the future to make it easier for her grown children, she also recognizes the reality of the situation. She was confessing that their life here is comfortable and predictable. It was familiar and it would be hard to leave all that to make things easier for her children. It’s complex and not easy. She was allowing me to see through her perspective as she thought about her future, and maybe she was teaching me to have more compassion. I am thankful for wise words and hard truth that come at just the right time.

All of this mention of home makes me long for my ultimate home in Heaven where there will be no suffering, no tears, no worry, no disappointment, no frustrations, no anger, and no pain. This life is hard and often sad. It’s filled with disappointments and things out of my control. So, I have no choice but to find the joy in the midst of the struggle and move on, trusting my Treasure, until He brings me home.

The roller coaster of emotions continues to thrill with unexpected twists and turns as each new day dawns. It’s quite a ride in the cosmic, puzzling theme park of “Bonham Word”. We seem to be getting on the same ride each day but with a totally different outcome as the ride come to a close. The consistency of each day looks like this: I wake with anticipation before take-off, assuring myself that everything is going to be just fine. All I need to do is take a deep breath, grip the handles and hold on! Starting off slow, because it’s not Disney’s Rockin’ Roller Coaster, I steadily ease my mind for the ride knowing there are going to be some rough turns, hills, fast-paced-feel-like-you-are-out-of-control-moments, but overall, I know it will end. Next, comes the forward acceleration as I remind myself, “here we go, we’re doing this. No turning back. We got it. It will all be over soon. I’ll just find moments of joy throughout the ride!” But then, we go down a hill from which I just can’t recover. I want to get off the ride, but it just keeps moving.

My dad informed us last week that he has put in mom’s two week notice at the facility here in Georgia and is taking her back to South Carolina on December 16th. He will take care of her with the help of a caregiver in their home. I don’t think this is a wise move, but it’s not my move to make. I want to change the course of the ride, but I don’t control the path that is already laid out before us. So, I grip the handlebars a little tighter and embrace for the next slope on the tracks.

Thanksgiving week started off great. My two oldest came home from college and my youngest was out of school for the week. I had a weeklong break from teaching as well. We had family meals together, laughed a lot, and enjoyed one another. Then, as we approached the big turkey day, I began to get anxious. My dad was going to make the trip to Georgia to see mom in her new home. He was feeling better, and the doctor had given him the “ok” to travel independently. In fact, he kept telling us, and mom, that the doctor said, “I’ll get you back to good as new.” I think dad’s interpretation was that he would be able to go back to life as usual, caring for mom. Mom seemed to think that was true too. It was puzzling to me, however, that a 78-year-old man could go from having a stroke that revealed a 90% blockage in his carotid artery, a 10-day hospital stay, a major surgery with almost a 12-inch scar along his neck, a month-long recovery with no exercise and little movement, right back to “good as new.” I didn’t question my dad’s honesty with us, I questioned his honesty with himself.

Anyway, Mom was counting down the minutes until he came. My siblings and I were unsure of what the days ahead would hold. We knew mom wasn’t happy in her place for no other reason than she wanted to be with dad, in her own home, back to the way things were before he had a stroke. Our fear was that when dad arrived, she would focus on the all the negatives of her new home rather than the positives. For example: She didn’t like the food. She didn’t like the fact that nobody in the facility talked (most of them are memory care with little verbal articulation). She didn’t like how they washed the white clothes and the dark clothes. She didn’t like how they dressed her. She complained of many things, some petty, some with validity. Overall, she was struggling to find any bright spot or hope in her new situation. She simply didn’t want to be there. However, my siblings and I felt like she was in a good place. She was safe and being taken care of, although not in the same manner that dad cared for her. She was being fed, cleaned, all the things. We even hired a lady to come in to wash, cut and style her hair, twice! To be honest, I was thankful for the place we had found, and I actually took offense to the fact that she was not. We were getting to see her more than when she lived in South Carolina. We were bringing things from the grocery she requested. We were making sure her needs were met. We brought the grandkids by to visit. We were doing a lot, yet she was still unhappy with her situation and could find nothing that brough her joy. There was no gratitude at all. We were upset, frustrated and losing compassion to be quite honest. All she really wanted was to be with her husband of 55 year. It seemed that all we were doing to make her new home in Georgia comfortable were in vain.

Dad arrived on Tuesday night to stay with my sister. Visiting hours at the facility were over, so he didn’t plan to visit until the next day. The next day came, and mom was restless and ready to see dad. However, I received a call from the occupational therapist that he wanted to come by and work on her hands and arms. She had not had OT in a long time, and I was thrilled that she was now going to have the opportunity to receive therapy. She was not. She just wanted to see dad, not the OT. So, the plan was that dad would visit, go get them lunch, and return to the facility to be with her while the OT was there to work with her. My dad still seemed pretty weak, so this type of visit was probably good for him. The next day he would have to take her out of the facility and drive her to my sister’s for Thanksgiving. I had warned my dad that mom would probably make the place seem awful, even though it was not. She was just unhappy. I don’t know what conversations they had that day but when he arrived back at my sister’s in the evening to spend the night, he was clearly upset about my mom’s current state and expressed his concern for her depression. I think at this point though, it’s important to recognize that we were all living in a state of depression because of the toll this horrific accident and situation has taken on our family.

The visit was tough. Even though the family was together, there was this dark cloud that loomed over us all. Once again, the reality of our situation seemed to pierce our hearts at an even deeper level. We were all struggling to be happy.

Day by day, it just doesn’t seem to get better. Is this what the Israelites experienced wandering in the desert for 4o years? I want to think I am better off and have more faith than they did, but I don’t. I’m struggling and discouraged, but I KNOW that I am not without hope. So, I will raise my ebenezer and remember, God is still good.

Christian artists Chris Renzema and Ellie Holcomb have a song out called “Just as Good.” The words are powerful and speak to my soul. The lyrics and link to the song are below.

“You’re still just as good as when I met You.
You’re still just as kind, don’t let me forget that You’re
Still the same God who led me through the fire
You’re still the same God that separates the waters
Come do what only You can do
God, I need You.”

And I will build an altar
And stack it stone by stone
‘Cause every Ebenezer says, “I’ve never been alone”
My faith will surely falter
But that don’t change what You’ve done
‘Cause every Ebenezer points to where my help comes from.

Often times, over the past thirteen years, I have felt like George Baily at the end of “It’s a Wonderful Life” when all the people come pouring into his house to show their love and support. Then Clarence, his guardian angel, reminds him, “Remember, no man is a failure who has friends.” It’s true. Friends are a gift, and they can bring joy and give hope to a weary soul. When you feel lost or depressed and you can’t even lift your head, it’s friends that make the difference. True friends.

They show up when you need them most.

They give words of encouragement at just the right time.

They intercede for you in prayer before the throne of grace when you are so worn that you, yourself, just can’t.

They even give you gift cards for dinner when they know you don’t have the mental capacity to plan a meal for the family.

They send you flowers to cheer you up.

They demonstrate love in some of the smallest acts of kindness.

They love you for who you are.

They forgive you when you mess up.

They listen and sometimes tell you things you don’t want to hear but need to hear.

They sit with you.

They weep with you.

They rejoice with you.

They let you complain and vent, and they don’t judge you when you do.

It’s a humbling feeling to experience the love and support of good friends. I would be a much different person without the influence and loyalty of my friends. King Solomon had it right when he penned, “A friend loves at all times.” True friends do love at all times, even the bad times.

It is a rare thing to have friends on whom you can fully rely, and I am eternally grateful for the people in my life that I call friends.

My children arrived home from college this week. They are home for an entire week for Thanksgiving and I could not be happier to have the house full again. I get giddy when I wake up knowing the kids’ rooms are occupied. It’s like a metaphorical cup of Foldger’s coffee. You know the song. “The best part of waking up….” My eldest is a Georgia Bulldog, just like his mama. My middle is at Asbury University in Kentucky, following in her dad’s footsteps. My youngest is still in high school and has yet to decide on where he will spend his college days. I can’t imagine what it will be like when all three are gone and returning home for the holidays. I don’t know if I will be able to contain my excitement. My husband said just the other day, “I love our family.” I could not agree more, and this time of year is a reminder of just how thankful we are to have such a great family unit.

There’s nothing like being part of a close-knit family. Not only am I blessed to have that now, but I was also fortunate to grow up in a happy home with a dad, mom, older sister and younger brother. In fact, my folks are still married after 55 years and my siblings and I are all still speaking and actually pretty good friends. I find that comforting in this day and age where marriages crumble and families fall apart, or vice versa. I have fond memories of my childhood growing up in Hendersonville, North Carolina. We were a family of modest means, but love was at the center. My parents reared us well, taught us how to treat others, and gave us a good moral foundation. My siblings and I refer to our family as the “fab five.” I think most times, a strong family is the result of the example and expectation that is set. My parents did that for us. I even have a tattoo on my forearm in honor of our family.

One of the things I am amazed at most about our family is the devotion of my father to my mom after her accident. I attribute a lot of his dedication to the fact that he was once a soldier. He served in the Army during the Vietnam War. The allegiance that a soldier develops for his country is not something easily lost or forgotten. I am a patriot and I admire the faithfulness and dedication of all service men and women. Not only do they put their lives on the line, but they do it without compromise or question. They serve out of a resolute duty. My dad, the soldier, has served my mom and taken care of all of her needs with precision and care out of not only promise, but out of duty. My mom, to him, is the soldier who will not be left behind. I admire him for that.

With a catastrophic injury like my mom has, it would have been easy to walk away because of the arduous effort it takes to care for her. Only the selfless and prideful could do what my dad has done. He is by no means a perfect man, but he is enduring, and he has served my mom and been by her side throughout this entire daunting process of living life as a quadriplegic. For thirteen years, he has served her and provided for her every need. This includes making 3 meals a day, washing the dishes, doing the laundry, waking each morning at 3AM to turn her while she sleeps so she doesn’t develop bed sores. He has driven her to countless doctor appointments. He has taken care of her needs in every way, including personal things like showering, using the restroom, washing and drying her hair and sometimes styling it with a curling iron. I could go on and on with this list. That vow he made to my mom about caring for her in sickness and in health, has been lived out daily. I would say that his care for her has been so meticulous that it has been hard to find someone to live up to his standard. Since he can no longer care for her, he has had to release control to someone else. My mom has been resistant. It’s just not the same for her. My siblings and I are discovering just how difficult it is to persevere as we try and monitor care for mom in my dad’s absence. My heart hurts for them, but at the same time I find joy in how he has stood by my mom.

When I think about family and all that we’ve been through, I can’t help but ponder over the family that God started through a man named Abraham so long ago. One of the most important ideas to God was to establish a family on earth through His people. He grew His family, cared for His family, and made promises to His family. Like all families do, they struggled, they complained, they went through extremely difficult times, they experienced joy, they questioned His plan, yet He provided for them, daily. He showed them how to live, taught them right from wrong, loved them, and gave them Hope. What a blessing! It is such a comfort to me to think that the very same God is providing and caring for my family each day. I can trust and rely on His promises because I am part of that family that he started so long ago. That also makes me giddy and want to sing, “Father Abraham, had many sons, and many sons had Father Abraham, I am one of them, and so are you. So, let’s all praise the Lord!”