Saying Yes

I've been watching a lot of Prison Break these days, along with Call The Midwife (bet you would've never put those two together).  I've read two fictional novels in the last week and a half.  I finally decided to replace our dishes after 19 years of marriage, so I spent an entire day tracking down enough pieces from various Walmart's to complete a set of 12 (Thank you Pioneer Woman, Ree Drummond!).

I know that these are the things I do when I'm avoiding.

Sometimes my feelings are so deep it hurts to process them.  Sometimes the future is so unknown it scares the life out of me.  Sometimes the discouragement is so thick I can feel it turning into anger.  The weight of all the "what if's", the "what are we doing's", and the "what could be's" is so heavy it's sometimes hard to breath.

We've been doing a lot of processing at our house...yes, still. (Will there ever be a day when I don't use that line in a post?) This journey can be so hard sometimes.  And that hard comes in so many different forms.  For me, lately, it's been emotional.  My heart longs to see transformation.  My being is hungry to be a part of something.  My soul feels a bit like Donkey on Shrek when he's standing among all the fairy tale characters jumping up and down yelling, "Me! Me! Pick me!"

I want to feel picked for a purpose and I want to see that purpose bear fruit.  I want to see more of the Kingdom breaking through.  I want to see lives transformed.  I want to experience more of the Holy Spirit in my life.

I also want to know what God is up to and what that is going to look like for me.  I want to know how long this season of discernment is going to last and how it's going to end.  I want to eat pie for breakfast, and chips with my lunch while still being able to fit into my jeans (a.k.a. yoga pants).

I realize I want a lot of things.

I think the Father wants a lot of these same things for me (minus the pie and chips, maybe...although I am convinced there will be lemon meringue pie along with Doritos and guacamole at the great banquet table in heaven).  But I also realize that there is an underlying desire for something else throughout all of these other desires, and that's for control.

Are we honestly having this conversation again?

I'm about 10 years into this surrendering thing and the end seems nowhere in sight.  I have felt the peace that comes with opening up my hands and letting go.  I know the hope we have in serving a sovereign God, a good God.  Why, then, can I not master this skill of trusting, of believing, of resting in a surrendered state?

The other day I was talking on the phone to my mom (I may or may not have been crying).  I was frustrated and confused.  I knew the right answers, but that didn't stop the strong emotions.  After listening patiently, she finally spoke truth into my situation like only a mom can.  She gently told me to get back to the present and simply be willing to say "Yes" to whatever the Father was asking of me that day.

The minute the words left her mouth, I knew they were for me.  But I still felt myself rise against them a bit.  Isn't that too easy?  Who's going to think about the future?  Who is going to discern?  Who is going to come up with the next step?

Knowing my mom is a woman of great wisdom, I've been working at saying "Yes".  I'm doing my best to stay in the present, to simply do what is in front of me. 

Yes, I will do our laundry. 
Yes, I will read with my youngest. 
Yes, I will prepare for kids club. 
Yes, I will lay down my anxious thoughts in a conversation with my Creator. 
Yes, I will lay down my anxious thoughts. 
Yes, I will lay down my anxious thoughts.

On my hard days I find myself swinging from one side of the spectrum to the other.  At one point I can feel so hopeful and excited about what God is stirring in us that I can hardly see straight, only to become so doubtful and overwhelmed I begin to question everything we're doing.

On my good days, though, I'm learning to stop myself before the emotions get too intense.  I'm learning to ask myself what it is I am to say "Yes" to on that day.  I'm working at trusting what I know to be true instead of what I feel to be true.  That's a biggie for this girl who seems to ALWAYS be feeling something.

My goal is to learn to say "Yes" to hope consistently and to find joy in the waiting.  That's my goal...someday, sometime, may it be so.

To My Girls -- My prayer is that all four of you would have hearts that always choose to say "Yes" to Jesus, even when it may seem unclear as to what you are saying "Yes" to, even when the "Yes" feels hard.

Planting Seeds

When we moved into our neighborhood 5 years ago we did so with a vision of engaging our community and loving our neighbors.  We spent hours and days brainstorming ways to connect with those that lived around us.

In my dreams, deep relationships would be formed, long conversations would be had, life would be spent doing together as the days turned into months turned into years.

We knew it would take time.  We knew it might be a steep learning curve.  But we dove in all the same.

5 years later we've learned a lot.  I can tell you what doesn't seem to work more than what does.   I have far more questions now than when we started.  I've felt discouraged, burnt out, and cynical.

And then last year happened.  To say it in the most simple, concise way, last year was hard...hard on so many levels.  It was a year of holding on for dear life and being forced to trust like never before.  It was a year of wrestling, of questioning, of processing, of clinging and then of letting go.  It was a year of darkness and surviving.

But in that darkness and in that drive to survive, it became a year of growing and learning and changing.  Last year forced us to daily cling to our mantra of faithfulness and obedience.

This year we're still seeking to live faithfully and obediently despite our questions, despite the unknown, despite what we thought might be.  Kids Club is one way of doing this.

Every year we've lived in our neighborhood we've done Kids Club.  Every year except last year...it just didn't happen.  But this year the kids were begging and we knew it was time to start it back up.

And so, once again I trekked out to the bus stop and handed out flyers.  You could hear the whispers, "Kids Club?"  "Are you going?"  "Thursday nights?  I think I can come!"

As we prepared for our kick off night, my heart was in a new place.  I saw these kiddos through different eyes.  I knew what we were doing, as simple as it is, was right.  How can you go wrong loving on kiddos?  How can you fail when you're sharing the love of Jesus?  How can you question speaking truth and life into young, sponge-like hearts?

But the kids aren't the only ones being ministered to.  Before week one even happened, three of our "older" neighborhood girls showed up at our front door.  With their shy smiles, and their accented words they wanted to know if they could still come to Kids Club.  We've always posted an age range of 4-12 (really assuming anyone over the age of 12 would not be interested in coming).  But these girls had been with us from the beginning and they weren't ready to be done.

I told them they were too old to come to Kids Club, but that they weren't too old to help.  The vision was coming to me as I was speaking.  What might it look like to allow Kids Club to grow with our kids?  What better way to continue learning than to help teach?

A deal was quickly made.

If these girls would agree to show up at my house on Tuesday afternoons, I would tell them what that week's lesson was about.  Together we would then come up with a craft or activity for the kids to do following the story, and the girls would be responsible for leading whatever we came up with.

I'll be honest in saying I figured the girls would forget to come, and that was ok.  I figured they would still show up on Thursday for club and that would, of course, be ok also.  But low and behold, my doorbell rang that first week and there they were!  I had totally forgotten, but they had not!  Last week they "led" their first activity.

Again, this week my doorbell rang.  Again, I had forgotten!  Luckily I was home, though, and we talked through our second lesson, coming up with a craft idea.  Tonight we'll once again let them "lead".

Is it a surprise, really, that I'm being ministered to just as much as I'm doing the ministering?  Isn't that usually the case, especially when it comes to children?  Watching these neighborhood kids never ceases to teach me, to challenge me and to encourage me.

The homes they come from are all different, some more broken than others.  But they're kids, and all kids long to feel loved, long to feel a part of things, long to be known.  My hope is that even if for one hour a week we can speak this into each one of them, we can share with them hope, we can tell them about Someone who not only created them but loves them unconditionally and offers them life, then maybe they will learn to walk in these truths and even end up sharing them with someone else.

As much as it feels right to us, it doesn't necessarily to everyone else.  Each week I look across the street to see a little boy and his sister sitting on the step watching from afar.  They've asked their dad if they can come, but the answer has been "no".  My heart hurts as I see them looking over longingly.  I will not stop praying that one day they'll be able to join us.

We always hope that our intentions to love well are received over the misconception of having some kind of agenda.  We pray regularly that we might find favor in the eyes of those that live around us.  We strongly believe in this way of life and are learning to find joy in it, despite the disappointments  and frustrations.

My prayer is that the seeds that are planted on this street might someday grow, flourish and produce much fruit.  What I wouldn't give to know the ending to this part of our story.

To My Girls -- What a blessing it has been to watch you minister with Daddy and I through Kids Club.  Each of you bring your own gifts and personalities to the table.  I love to see you running out to gather kids up, or sitting with the little ones on your lap during the story. It blesses me as you volunteer to answer the questions, or help around the craft table.  Your warmth and graciousness reminds me of how I want to be.  Thank you for working with us.  Thank you for being generous.  Thank you for loving well. 

Enough

I'd love to know if there is anyone living on this big, beautiful earth that doesn't like the feeling of being in control.  Anyone???

Anyone out there who just loves the thrill of the unknown, the out of control, the sense of helplessness that comes from not being able to fix something, the anxiousness that arises when you realize how little control we do have in this life?  I could break out into a cold sweat just typing these words.

Once again, I'm just going to come out and say, I may wrestle with control issues.  My friends and family might argue that using the word may is living a fantasy.  A girl can dream, though, right?

I think I've shared before that I like to have a good plan. I am happy when I know there is some organization to what is happening. I work hard to be prepared. I embrace order...again, all ways of saying I like the feeling of circumstances being under control.

This is something I've realized more and more about myself in the last couple of years.  I'm a weird mix of easy going and crazed control freak.  For the most part, I'm pretty laid back about the little things in life. (I really don't care where we eat when we're out on a date.  And as long as my girls are fully clothed I don't get worked up about whether what they picked out to wear matches or not.  My oldest wore sweat pants to school for the first 12 years of her life, and my youngest just walked out the door this morning in hawaiian shorts, a Tabor College basketball t-shirt and silver glitter sandals.) I lose no sleep over these things.

 However, when it comes to circumstances...when it comes to pulling something off, or having a vision, a dream, when it comes to life happening in deep ways, I know and recognize my desire for control.  I want plans to go well.  I want success for myself and those I love.  I want that feeling of knowing where we're going, working hard to get there, and being confident of the end result.  And if the end result isn't a good one, I'm actually ok with that.  I just want to know that beforehand.  Is that too much to ask?

I just want to know!

The unknown often feels like my enemy. So much can happen in the unknown.  There's the possibility of pain in the unknown, failure, broken dreams, loneliness, mistakes, tragedy, suffering.  Is there the possibility of goodness and celebration and hope in the unknown?  Of course, but these are not the things that keep me up at night.

It's the hard unknown that can feel suffocating.  That speaks lies into the truth of what I already do know.  But sometimes I forget that truth.

Last week a friend told me she was processing the question, "Why isn't Jesus enough?".  My first reaction was to dive into a long conversation with her about why I thought so many people struggled with believing that Jesus is enough.  These poor people, always looking to something else to meet their needs, never choosing to rely on Jesus in the hard.  Why can't they see that Jesus is enough for them? (Why do I always assume it's someone else who has the problem?)

We actually did talk about what this looks like for the church, but it was while I was saying something about how "others" just don't seem to get it, that I heard the words, "Am I enough for you?"

I disregarded that little voice because I was making a point that concerned others, not me. (yes, go ahead and roll your eyes...I deserve that.)  And even though I was choosing to not engage in that particular conversation, I heard the question being whispered and thought to myself, "Of course, Jesus you know you're enough for me."  All of that went through my mind while I was still addressing someone else's issues.

If you've read any of my other posts, you know that sometimes it takes a couple turns around the bend to get me to realize what God is saying to me.  I really am thankful that He is patient and long suffering because there are some days I think He must want to walk away shaking His head.

Lucky for me, instead, He chooses to keep pursuing, relentlessly, with those things that He wants me to know and learn.  I'm learning to feel loved by this instead of shameful that I didn't already know it to begin with.

And so those whispered words would not quiet.  The question, "Am I enough for you?" kept playing in my head.  With time, it turned into the question, "What does it look like for Jesus to be enough?"

This question captured my mind and I began to play out different scenarios.  The anxiety I was feeling about a situation involving one of our daughters...what did it look like for Jesus to be enough for me in this?  The financial questions we had...the challenging relationship I was in with a friend...the ministry questions we are processing.

When things are going smoothly, when all is well, to be honest I often live as though I don't even need Jesus.  But when I am reminded of the reality that I am not in control, and there are a lot of unknowns that I have to face everyday, I am forced to answer the question with my choices and behavior.

Will I choose to trust?  Will I choose to believe?  Will I choose to put my hope in a Savior?  Or will I choose to flounder, to freak out and grasp at anything and everything to try to regain that control I so desperately want?  Will I allow my thoughts to run away with me and live in the fear that comes with all the "what if's"?  Or will Jesus be enough?

It sounds so cliche doesn't it?  Even as I was sharing my thoughts with Vaughn on all this, I kept thinking, "This is the most ridiculous, cliche thing ever!  Why is something so bumper sticker-esk, rocking your world?"

Can't you just see it?  You pull up to the stop light and read on the car bumper in front of you, "Is Jesus Enough?"  You roll your eyes, assume some holier than thou is in the driver's seat, come up with some snarky response and accelerate at the green.

I get it.  Because I'm uber sensitive to super churchy lingo.  No one wants to hear it.

But this question for me has nothing to do with being super churchy.  And although it seems like a pretty basic question, I am finding the answer has huge repercussions for the way I choose to live my story.

If my answer to this question is "Yes", than I am giving up that control I so desperately fight for.  I am surrendering to the sovereignty of my Creator.  I am putting my hope and trust in Jesus, living out the belief that no matter what, He is enough for me.  I am agreeing with the writer of Lamentations in saying, "The Lord is my portion...(3:24)"  He is enough for me in all things.

When I give in to anxious thoughts, to jealousy, to a critical spirit.  When I throw a fit because I don't believe I deserve what is happening.  When I manipulate and run ahead of circumstances with my own plan, I am answering the given question with a resounding "No".

I can see how a lot of my days have been filled with the answer, "No".

I want to change that.

As the Father continues to gently pry my fingers back from holding on so tightly to my own plan, my own way, I am slowly learning what it looks like to say "Yes".  I want nothing more than Jesus to always be enough for me.  It's a process.  It's taking time to retrain my mind and my heart.  But the freedom that I have already experienced in saying "Yes" is enough to keep me asking the question.

To My Girls -- I want nothing more than for you to become fully you, the unique individuals Christ has created you to be.  I want you to know love and happiness.  I want you to live on purpose, sharing the love of Jesus in whatever you do.  As your momma, I hate thinking about you going through any kind of pain, turmoil or struggle.  But the world we live in is a broken one.  We are guaranteed hardship.  My prayer is that as you grow, you will learn what it means to look to Jesus in all things.  That He would always be your portion, and that you find freedom and hope in trusting His sovereign ways.

Hoping To Be Surprised

I love to be surprised...if it's a good surprise that is.  If it means my sister showing up at my door from a state away, or a night out planned by my husband, who doesn't love that?  One time I had a friend schedule a house cleaner to come and clean my house before I hosted my husband's 40th birthday celebration.  Just dreamy!

In my opinion, a good surprise comes from those who really get you.  Those people that know concert tickets aren't your thing, but Broadway tickets would be on point.  Friends that can surprise you with a piece for your wall and it fits in perfectly with your "taste".

I've come to learn good surprises make me feel not only loved, but also known.

We're currently praying to be surprised at our house.

School started this last week and it's felt kind of rough for my 13 year old.  One day before classes started, she found out she had been put in a class separate from all of her friends but one.

Middle school is just plain hard.  You couldn't pay me enough to relive those years.  The inner turmoil, the drama, the tears, the questioning, the longings.  I'm convinced it's even harder with the addition of social media.

What?  So and so is hanging out with her BFF?  I thought I was her BFF!  Besides, she said she couldn't hang out tonight.  Evidently she can, because she is!  Just not with me!  (These are the conversations we try to navigate through at this age.)

Anyways, all that to say Middle School is hard enough when you're with your friends.  It's doubly brutal when you've been separated from them, while they're all still together.  And so, to say the year ahead feels doomed might sound over dramatic, but at 13 this is how we communicate.

As a mom it's hard to see your kiddos struggle.  I admit to being a "fixer".  I fix to avoid pain, I fix to avoid conflict, I fix to avoid being uncomfortable.  Nothing brings out the fixer in me more than when my kids are hurting.

But I know better...at least I'm learning to know better.  Fixing is rarely the best solution.  It's no secret that most often it is the hard in life that molds us over the easy.  In the hard we're challenged to make a choice.  What will we choose to focus on?  In the hard our belief system is tested.  We say we trust God, but do we really?  In the hard we either become victims or overcomers.

Every person wants to be known as someone who sees the good, who trusts always and who overcomes.  But in order to be known as this type of person, we actually have to walk through the hard and choose.  Choose joy even when we don't know the outcome.  Aaaggghh!!!!  This is so much easier said than done.

As I'm preaching this to my daughter, I'm really speaking it to myself.  Because inside I'm throwing my own fit.  I'm ticked that this is the way our year has to start off.  I'm sick for my daughter who has worked hard to find her place only to now feel displaced.  I don't feel like we deserved this.

But Lord knows no one does.  I'm learning to recognize that circumstances like this have nothing to do with whether we deserve them or not.  But they have everything to do with molding us into the one we have been created to be.  It sounds beautiful in theory, but it's super hard in real life...especially when it's your child that's being molded.

Since fixing is out of the question, I've had to process what it looks like to walk alongside my daughter in this.  The tightrope I'm walking between being empathetic while still calling my 13 year old to something higher is a thin one.  Most days I feel at a loss.

The one prayer I keep coming back to is "Surprise us Lord!"  I have asked my daughter to commit to keeping her eyes open for ways the Father might choose to surprises her.  I figure no one knows her better than her Creator, so who better to know ways to speak love to her through the unexpected?

So, last night I asked my daughter if she had seen any evidence of the Father's hand at work and she gave me an adamant, "no".  Ugh!  How crazy is it that with that one answer I'm ready to bail on praying?  Oh ye of little faith!

The thing about surprises is that you never know when they're coming.  The not knowing in this situation just might be killing me slowly...I didn't say it was, I said it might be.  Obviously my daughter is not the only one being molded here.

I want to be committed to this prayer on my daughter's behalf.  At this point the surprise may just be  making it through the year with minimal tears...right now we'll take that.  But I'm boldly praying for more.

I want nothing more than for my daughter to experience her Father at work in her life.  I want her to be able to look back and give testimony to the way He was faithful.  I fully understand that this may not look the way we might hope, but I also trust that the Great Creator loves and knows my daughter more deeply than anyone.  Any gift He gives will be good.

Matthew 7:11 says, "So if you sinful people know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give good gifts to those who ask him."  

So I'm asking...

I'm asking for my daughter to be molded, I'm asking that she might have eyes to see the good, I'm asking for her heart to be strong.  And I will be hopeful on her behalf that her heavenly Father will find a way to surprise her in all this.

To My Girls -- My prayer is that in the hard of life you will choose to trust, choose to believe, and choose to find joy.  It will rarely be easy, but it will bring life.  May you find hope as you walk through these seasons in knowing that your heavenly Father is at work, always molding you to look more like Jesus.  Don't run from these situations, instead ask the Father to show you what He wants you to know.  And always remember that God is good.  He is loving and gracious.  He is faithful and always walking alongside of you.  Hard is not bad, hard is not something that is being done to you, hard is simply a way for us to press more deeply into the loving relationship we have with our Creator. 

40th Birthday Wish Come True...

One year ago I invited my family to a birthday celebration.  A birthday celebration that would take place this summer.  As I saw my 40th approaching, I knew I wanted to take advantage of the opportunity and make it one to remember.

So, last July I invited my entire family (both parents, a step-father, four siblings and all of their kiddos = 27 people total, not counting my own family and not counting the one on the way!) to join me this August in climbing a 14'er.

I gave everyone one year's notice so that schedules could be made, bodies could be prepared, and I could enjoy the anticipation for a full 365+ days!  And I have done just that. 

This spring the preparations really began at our house as the girls helped me sew bunting for the front of the house, organize bedrooms, and I began shopping the sales as I planned out our menu. 

Knowing there would be a total of 33 people in my house for an extended weekend made me giddy.  These are my people after all.  Hosting them all at once was a HUGE part of my birthday wish.  And having a husband support me in my wild and crazy idea was an early birthday gift to me.

Once June arrived we kicked it into high gear.  Vaughn put up cafe lights around our back patio area.  This has been a dream of mine for a long time.  My guy really is amazing in how he does whatever he can to give me my heart's desire.

The girls and I found vintage sheets at Goodwill for our table cloths.  We borrowed patio furniture from good friends. We picked up flowers at the last minute.  It was Friday and it was time for everyone to arrive.

That first night, we ate dinner, we laughed, we caught up, we enjoyed the amazing Colorado evening.  And then we began packing for our big hike the next morning.

Knowing that we were getting up at 3:15 a.m. and pulling out at 4:00, we made our lunches and packed our backpacks the night before. 23 of the 33 were climbing.  Grandma Barb and Papa Clay agreed to stay home with the littles.

Morning came quickly.  The drive to the trail head took us about an hour and a half.  The day promised to be a beautiful one.

My ninja sister in law lost 25 pounds in order to not miss out on the big day.  I couldn't be more proud of this girl!

As the sun was rising, we began to climb...

To say this hike was a challenge would be like saying Peyton Manning is a decent quarterback.  As my family members fought to conquer this mountain, my heart swelled as I witness various nieces and nephews urging each other on, Dads carrying kiddos at times, wives encouraging cousins, brother in laws coaching sister in laws.  This family came together and battled to get each person to the top.  And every single one of us made it!

My dad made it with a heart that functions at only 30%.

My nephew was the youngest to climb at the age of 7.  He promptly fell asleep seconds after summiting.

We ate lunch at the top and most of the group began the descent down.  Several of us, though, decided to tackle Torreys which is connected to Grays by a ridge.  One hour later, we summited our second peak.

And then we began our climb down....which always feels eternal!

I am thrilled and relieved to say everyone made it down safely and in one piece.  Sometimes going down can be as much of a battle as going up.  But again, this family pulled together and made it to the bottom.

We spent the rest of the evening relaxing, eating barbecue, and rehashing the events of the day.  I was thankful each family member was still speaking to me, ha!  It had been a brutal day for some, but the sweetness of victory made it worth it....even if a few have sworn they will never step foot on a 14'er again.

Sunday morning we slept in.  At 10:00 we enjoyed brunch together.  Aisha and Zaylee were in charge of the pancakes.  They did awesome!

After we ate, we gathered together, worshiped and shared ways we saw Jesus at work in our lives.  Again, my heart was full, soaking in each moment.

That afternoon we headed to the stream.  It's always been hard to keep this family away from the water, and this day was no different. 

And of course a group game was created by Uncle Micah.

Nights often found us sitting out back, under the lights, visiting, eating, playing ball and almost always laughing.

Monday morning the guys and some of the kids headed out early to watch Broncos training camp.

Not everyone is a fan...

Meanwhile back home, some of the kiddos put together a little performance for the moms...doing the "Whip".

That afternoon the adults headed out for a little walk.

Our last evening together was spent making s'mores.  The adults hung out in the back and the kiddos watched "Evan Almighty" on Vaughn's homemade big screen made out of sheetrock.

 

Vaughn surprised me by having everyone write notes of affirmation and encouragement to me throughout the weekend.  He then had them hanging up so I could read them whenever I wanted. This whole little surprise, I found out, required a trip to Hobby Lobby by my man. And that, people, is a true act of love at our house.

 Packing up always makes me emotional.  Saying goodbye sucks.

But on this Tuesday morning my tears were more happy tears than they were sad.  As we circled up to pray one more time before everyone left, I was overwhelmed.  The love I have for this crew,  the joy I experienced while having them in my home, I am humbled and amazed at how fortunate I am to call them mine.

My birthday wish had come true, and it far exceeded my expectations.  I will treasure the memories of this time forever. 

I know I never could've pulled this off without Vaughn's full support.  This guy really is amazing.  He knows me better than anyone, and he knew from the minute this idea was conceived how important it was to me.  I love him more than words can say!

To My Man -- Thank you.  Thank you a million times over!  Thank you for knowing me and loving me enough to help me pull this off.  Thank you for the cafe lights, and for picking up patio furniture.  Thank you for leading our family in worship and for planning a morning out with the guys.  Thank you for telling me in advance that once everyone was here, you'd be ready and willing to do whatever I needed you to do, to go pick up whatever I needed picked up.  Thank you for getting the very last family members to the top of that mountain.
Thank you for all the ways you love me and the girls.  Thank you for making us laugh and fighting hard to choose joy.  Thank you for the way you lead our family spiritually.  You are the greatest gift I have ever been given.  I love doing life with you. 

To My Family -- Thank you.  Thank you for making this trip a priority.  Thank you for not rolling your eyes at me (at least not where I could see you) when you heard my idea.  Thank you for coming, for being fully present, for your kind words through each of your notes, and for all the laughter.  Watching you and your families love well and live the way of Jesus blesses me beyond words.  I love you all.

To My Girls -- Thank you.  Thank you for all the help and prep you put into hosting our family.  I love that your own hearts have been captured by the value and importance of these relationships.  My hope is that family will always be a priority for us.  As you grow older you'll realize that everyone does life a little differently, even within a family.  You will always have the choice to either focus on the differences, or choose to remember that no matter what, you're still family.  And that's the one thing that stays the same.  Family is worth fighting for, worth investing in, worth working through the differences to maintain.  Despite our own brokenness, God has blessed us with an amazing family, hasn't He?