Comparison

God wants you to know that you are not disqualified, that he never compares you to anyone else because he created you to be set apart and unique on purpose. There is not a person, career, monetary amount, sin or any other factor that can disqualify you for his love and purpose. God is not in the business of crushing dreams or hearts, he is in the business of crushing us into position to bear the fruit he planned for the purpose of his glory. There is no glory in heartache, only in love and multiplication.

This year I went to a Christian women’s conference, it was the first one that I had ever attended, and to say I was excited was an understatement. As I opened the flyer to read about the speakers, I did the unthinkable; I compared myself. It was unintentional at first, I was searching for any connection – something that would validate my past. Reading the snippets of their bios beside their head-shot, I stopped dead in my tracks. All I could focus on was their qualifications. The things that qualified them to be a speaker, to stand on the stage doing exactly what I want to do and what disqualified me. And, it is ironic because I am very aware that God does NOT work through “qualifications” and that the enemy was leading me to believe the lies that I was disqualified.

Each one of these women stood up on stage and shared stories of vulnerability, stories of fear and stories of how God had shaped or changed their lives. Truly beautiful and honest accounts of transformation in some form. The trials they had suffered were difficult, terrifying and significant. As I sat there listening to them 75% of me admired and respected them and the other 25% told myself “your dream is over, sister! You can never do this. You have too many.” Too many of this, too many of that – just too many!

They had been married for 10 to 25 years. All appeared to have a godly marriage, no mention of divorce or remarriage. There was not a testimony of addiction, sexual sin, anything that would carry a sin-shock once revealed. What would my bio read? Jessica Griffiths. Married & Divorced. Re-married & Re-divorced Again. Blended Family. Sex before marriage … oh ya, I can see the empty arena now. No thanks, I am good!

What impacted me the most though was watching one woman in particular ramping herself up to share her most shameful truth. It was crushing because of the heaviness of her shame, the things that made her feel unworthy or fearful were so minor in comparison to my own past. It showed me that we are so unforgiving of ourselves for the slightest infractions. And, that even someone with her qualifications, her education, status etc. was still fearful to some degree of judgment.

Sitting there impatiently waiting for her to work up the courage to share whatever carried such humiliation and embarrassment for her, I prayed. I prayed for her past to be even the slightest of something that mirrored my own. Is that awful? It sounds terrible to me to pray for something like that – but it was for a good reason, kind of. I wanted her to say something that would pull me into her heart, something that screamed – you’re one of us and welcome here. My need for it to be significant, something that would whisper “I’m just like you” was vital to feeling human, and still worthy of being a christian.

I prayed she would share something that proved that I was not disqualified. That I could share my story with other women, encourage and motivate them, become an author and not just be a flawed woman. But when she shared her truth and testimony, it was nothing like my past, and nothing I would have ever faulted her for nor condemned. In fact to me I would not have even categorized it as a sin. I honored her vulnerability, but dishonored Gods promise to myself. I ended up leaving the conference feeling disqualified. And, my heart broke.

For the next week I wrestled over my feelings. I wrestled with the idea of truly being disqualified. Would God call me to write and share my testimonies if I were truly disqualified? And as soon as I said that out loud, I realized I’m not sharing my testimony. I’m sharing how I survived, how I am saved by Gods grace and how he loves me. But I haven’t told you my actual mistakes. I’m safely tucked behind a computer, a quote or a blog post saying, “I’m a Christian”, “God is real” and that I know that I’m forgiven but I’m not sharing why or how I know this.

Here I am dreaming of the day I am able to speak life into women who are needing validation, desiring acceptance, and deserving of forgiveness – and I am already letting them down because my testimony is incomplete. And, God called me on that, right there in my car. He said, “Show them why and how YOU are NOT a disqualified Christian. Show them what disqualified you before the grace of God. Show them what qualifies YOU and THEM in my heart and that my mercy never fails.”

It was in that moment my heart softened, that overwhelming feeling of clarity and joy overflowed and replaced any ounce of doubt I had. It was in that moment the enemy was silenced and the series – The Disqualified Christian, was created.

There are times what God speaks to us it not meant for sharing, but there are also moments when it is meant for others to know. God is very active and alive within me and I would be disobedient if I did not share this with you today.

God wants you to know that you are not disqualified, that he never compares you to anyone else because he created you to be set apart and unique on purpose. There is not a person, career, monetary amount, sin or any other factor that can disqualify you for his love and purpose. God is not in the business of crushing dreams or hearts, he is in the business of crushing us into position to bear the fruit he planned for the purpose of his glory. There is no glory in heartache, only in love and multiplication.

 Romans 12:6 (MSG)

“Let’s just go ahead and be what we were made to be, without enviously or pridefully comparing ourselves with each other, or trying to be something we aren’t.” 

You deserve to heal.

What most fail to see is that our God is a loving God. He creates beauty from our ashes and works all things for the good of those who love him. You see, God was with her that awful day 23 years ago. He held her hand the day she suffered and thought she was alone. Although he disapproved of what she was doing, he never stopped loving her. Just as a loving father does. And, on the night a few weeks later when she closed her eyes pleading for him to take her life for the life she took, and for his forgiveness, he had answered her prayer.

The truthful story of a young girls’ abortion and how God’s grace restored her faith.

Abortion is not a topic people like to talk about aside from an easily forwarded meme or a hashtag. Many tweet their support or opposition much like the trending #youknowme , #shoutyourabortion #abortionishealthcare and #abortionismurder , #lovethemboth and #unplanned. Your friends are most likely divided as well and some like myself may have been torn on how they felt and throughout the years changed their minds. I’m sharing her story because we need to talk about the things no one talks about. We need to include the unknown, the uninformed and what really happens behind closed doors, inside broken homes and what can lead to, occurs during and follows an abortion.

She’s sitting there in a paper gown staring down at her feet praying harder than she’s ever prayed before, asking God to please not let her be pregnant. Pleading her case with him that she can’t be pregnant. She is too young, she is unprepared, her home-life is broken, she’s financially unstable, alone and scared. She only had sex one time, this can’t be happening. There is no possible way she can raise a child on her own when she is a child herself. As the door opens and her eyes meet the doctors eyes, she knows the result before he opens his mouth; she’s pregnant.

The nurse comes in, she is gentle, supportive and kind. The nurse consoles her, hands her a tissue and tells her she is going to be okay. Though unplanned this is not unmanageable, she has options: Abortion, Adoption, Abortion, Being a mother, or Abortion. She’s not very far along, approximately 4-6 weeks, there is no heartbeat yet, just a clump of cells – abortion is an option. And, she can have one tomorrow. She isn’t given tools for coping with the news of her pregnancy, she isn’t given time to discuss options, research options, and she isn’t offered support in becoming a mother.

This girl; she is more common than you realize. She is your sister, your mother, your wife or girlfriend. She is the lady beside you at church that cries every Sunday. She is your grandmother, your teacher, your coach, your therapist, your doctor; or maybe she is you. And, she is just as loved by God as you are. We don’t know her backstory, we don’t know what led her to a choice we may not choose or understand, and very few understand the torment that consumes her life after she realizes what she’s done.

The girl I knew was only sixteen when she found out she was pregnant. She had only had sex the one time. She was a good teenager for the most part, went to church every Sunday, stayed away from drugs and trouble. She had an unhealthy home-life which was littered with abandonment and loss, so she found “love” in relationships. She thought he would love her if she gave herself to him, but she’d find out eventually she was wrong.

When she found out she was pregnant, she was terrified. It was as if she was gifted an impossibility. She was handed something that she could never really have, and none of what she wanted even mattered, because her hand was forced. Her boyfriend wanted her to have the abortion, her father would have done worse, so her desires never entered her mind or heart. Her fear cancelled out any clarity or possibility of love, her shame cancelled out the desire for help, care or concern, and their control erased her options of breaking the unhealthy cycle of the life she was born into.

The day after she found out she was pregnant, with the help of a kind nurse and request of her boyfriend, she had an abortion. Just like that, quickly and easily accessible. A child, without parental consent or knowledge, any proper counseling, had an abortion. She was simply carrying a child who was viewed by others as a problem that their solution could solve. Her boyfriend wanted rid of any responsibility and eventually would leave her as well, once the “problem” was solved.

It would be six years later that she would find herself in a similar paper gown, this time with her husband and the hope of being pregnant. The doctor came in confirming the good news, and performed an ultrasound. This was the first time she had viewed a baby on an ultrasound. She saw a fluttering and asked what that was, and he told her it was the baby’s heart beating. She asked how far along she was and he said about 6 or 7 weeks. And, she cried. Not tears of the love to come, the joy of being pregnant but tears of regret, failure and disappointment. She suffered a loss in that moment realizing the supportive nurse from before wasn’t as honest and helpful as she had thought. And, she felt undeserving of this child too.

She revisited that day six years ago; which consisted of mere moments scattered like chaos. She remembered the emptiness. She looked back down at her feet just as she did at sixteen and remembered leaving that clinic feeling like a worthless woman. She remembered the steps from the exam room to the front door of the doctors office being heavy and long, that the hallway stretched like looking through a funny mirror and one step closer felt like 300 steps back.

She remembers that the exam room table chilled her body. That the air held a smutty dampness that was thick enough to choke you yet invisible; deceiving you into trying. That it held an ominous feeling of emptiness and an overabundance of death. She remembers the tears running like she wanted to. Running and hiding behind anything and anyone to save her. But, she had no one.  And, no one would understand or feel sorry for her.

The cramping and immense pain that started as mild discomfort gradually became the type of pain only a monster deserved to endure. It was a hell she deserved. The silence that accompanied the pain was broken by the sound of a machine being switched on. A low hum of suctioning, sounding strangely familiar to the sound she had just heard today of her baby’s heartbeat; except that this machine had silenced it.

She’s unable to recall arriving or leaving the doctor’s office that day. No idea of how she got home, how she cared for herself following the procedure or any other detail of that day. All she remembers is that outside
of that room she was an empty shell of existence and was never the same again. There wasn’t just the painful awareness and absence of what had been growing in her belly the past few weeks, but also the realization that every ounce of her soul was extracted and held captive in the same container that held her baby.

She had often wondered if the women who came before and followed after were as uniformed, frightened and tearful as she was on that day. Were they alone and there because they felt like they had no other choice? Did they feel as though God didn’t love them and that he would never forgive them? Do the tears ever revisit them, weighted with the same shame and despair as hers? Did their lives get lost without healing, did they slip into addiction, self harm, sexual or physical abuse, or did they possibly attempt suicide like she had.

She recalls being disgusted with herself the days and weeks following her abortion, even her own reflection was too much to bear. Even though the nurse told her it wasn’t a baby, she felt like it was and she felt as though she suffered a loss. A loss that others would say she had no right to suffer or grieve, thus going without any healing. And, today six years later she realized she was right, that the clump of cells was a baby, it had at the very least a heart forming and depending on how far along she really was, possibly beating.

After the abortion, she was tormented every minute by the memory of what she did, how she wasn’t strong enough to keep her baby. She knew she had let her baby, herself and God down. She wasn’t worthy of the breath she breathed, she was worthless, tainted and unlovable. She was desperate to escape her hell and trade it in for whatever hell God had planned for her. Surely she deserved it. She wrote her goodbyes, swallowed handfuls of pills and with an odd sense of calm and peace, she closed her eyes praying that they never open again.

But just as she had prayed weeks ago that she not be pregnant, God too left this prayer unanswered, or so she thought. He did not take her that night twenty-three years ago, instead he opened her eyes once again to a life she was meant to live. A life that carried consequences, pain, and anger – but ultimately filled with love, compassion, growth and understanding. She was given another chance to break the unhealthy cycle she was in, to toss away the crutch of false security and stability she leaned on, and to stand firm on her own foundation of faith, restoration and love.

What most fail to see is that our God is a loving God. He creates beauty from our ashes (Isaiah 61:3, NIV) and works all things for the good of those who love and follow him (Romans 8:28, NIV). On that awful day 23 years ago, God was with her. He held her hand the day she suffered and thought she was alone. Although he disapproved of what she was doing, he never stopped loving her, because she had never stopped believing in or loving him. Just as a loving father does. And, on the night a few weeks later when she closed her eyes praying for him to forgive her and take her life, he actually had. It wouldn’t be until six years later that she would realize that.

Failure can serve a beautiful purpose if we let it and that is why you often hear that God uses broken people to share his grace and glory. Today, I am that broken person. This girl from so many years ago, was me. And, this is my story, my truth and my testimony.

When the doctor laid my daughter on my chest six years later, and her cries were comforted by my heartbeat, I knew. It was then that I realized God have given me a new life, he had forgiven me and he showed me an endless amount of the loving grace he is. My cries were comforted by her heartbeat as well, and I named her Gracie. She saved my life in ways only God knows as that was his plan all along. She gave me purpose until I could find my own, she taught me unconditional love as I was learning to love myself and she reminded me that each child is a gift from God, perfectly planned in his image.

It took twenty-three years to heal from this and I still grieve both the act and the loss. If my sharing this either deters you or helps you understand you deserve to grieve, to heal and to be loved, then I will boast of the things that show my weakness, (1 Cor. 11:30 NIV). If you think you’re too far gone, or God’s too far away, simply say his name and know he is already there, (Isaiah 30:18, NIV).

Forced photos & Fulfilled Promises

“This family photo was as forced as the smiles on our faces. Behind each of our smiles was exhaustion, disappointment, frustration, stress and the faith of the tiniest mustard seed.”

This family photo was as forced as the smiles on our faces. Behind each of our smiles was exhaustion, disappointment, frustration, stress and the faith of the tiniest mustard seed.

This picture was taken as a reminder of our first year with steers and how we failed and took a hard hit. It was taken to be looked back on as the year that almost broke us – but didn’t. The year that taught us empathy and compassion for those who will encounter the same in years to come. We would look back at this photograph and celebrate, remembering this moment… and see there was more than five people in this photo.

We are not a family that comes from a background or even heavy support from a family in agriculture. And, financially we are your average american family that makes sure our kids have what they need, but not always much more. The decision to put our children into 4H and FFA was met with hesitation and if it weren’t for the option of a 4H or FFA loan it would have been impossible. So, when we learned early Wednesday morning that only 1 of our 3 steers made weight you can imagine our heartbreak.

Still though, I remained strong as my husband was angry and as Gracie and Cole were devastated. I told myself then that God had a plan, that “God doesn’t bankrupt a family for no reason.” And, I believed that. Bankrupt is a heavy term on such a small scale but to us this felt insurmountable. A mountain we would never be able to climb or move alone.

You can’t see in this photograph the heartbreak Gracie felt when the certified weigher called her back to see the numbers on the scale. The look on her face when he told her that her steer was 13lbs away from making weight and could not sell. There is no sign of the tears she cried feeling as though the past ten months and over five hundred hours of work was for nothing.

This photograph doesn’t show the same heartbreak for Cole who received the same news as Gracie, except he was only short by ten pounds. It doesn’t show that he worked mercilessly with a steer who weighed the least when we bought him and gained the most out of all three.

You can’t see behind Gage’s smile that he would have easily handed his steer over to his brother or sister because it’s been a rough and long ten months. Each showing or work day was exhausting. He had taken a physical beating from his steer dragging his 76lb body around the ring time and time again. And, he was done.

You can’t see the financial stress on mine or Matt’s face. The fights that followed not just during the project but once we learned only 1 of the 3 would be selling to earn a return on their hard work and dedication. Or that emotionally, I broke down the day before over what appeared to be about open-toed shoes but was really about so much more. You can’t see that I was not only upset at but also questioning God… all you see is a family smiling and moving forward.

I’ve been angry with God two times in my life and as quickly as I had remained strong for my family, I became weak and my husband became strong. We traded places. Anger and frustration took over as we had recently began tithing and making that a priority and it was proving to be difficult in general and then this happened. We do not waste our money, we work hard and try to live a giving and kind life. But here we were getting knocked down… again! What lesson was God teaching us and when would we finally catch a break?

Intermittently while being angry crosses would appear. I could easily see a cross in everything and a sense of peace would temporarily take over. Families around us stepped up and helped our children in a variety of ways to ensure we had items needed for fair, lessons in fitting, grooming etc. Things money could never have afforded, a pouring of such blessing that it overflowed what we needed or could hold. God’s promise of tithing, Malachi 3:10-11 isn’t an overpouring of just a financial blessing, it’s a blessing in all forms. In these bible verses God challenges his followers to trust him with a certain amount and in return promises to return blessings in unimaginable ways.

While my faith was hanging by a thread, behind the scenes God was wrapping it with leather and twine. As we stood and took this picture as a family of five – we smiled. You can’t see God in this picture, but he’s there. You can’t see the families, advisors and friends who loaned us equipment, property, time or energy but they’re in this photo too. You can’t see the community who stands behind and supports our youth in this photo, but they too are there. This is a photo of support and not of failure.

Within minutes of taking this photograph two men walked up and offered both our children who didn’t make weight an amount that more than covered the costs of their loans and also provided a cushion enough for next year’s project. These men were impressed with our children, their buyers letters, the way they presented themselves and their attitudes. And at the auction a local company bought Gage’s steer affording the same blessing and opportunity.

These men blessed our family. That local business blessed our family. And, we will never forget the moments that followed this photograph for all the years to come.

Ditch the Shame.

I dare you to be honest with someone who hurt you, who let you down or disappointed you. I dare you to be vulnerable, to be strong and to be brave.You are strong enough. You are smart enough.



So many people are stuck in this “show” life. They are always “on”, they always have it figured out and they are always “fine.” They are the quiet, strong type, but to me, strong is not quiet. Strong is loud. Strong is honest. Strength is raw and original. We are failing by setting the example or standard that silence is a sign of strength.

We need to get to a point where people quit hiding, where they quit trying to appear perfect and are okay wearing their heart on their sleeves, and their minds on their lips – to be vulnerable and invest in the people they want a return investment from.

Why should you always be the one to call, to text, to check in, why should you invest in someone who does not see the same value in you? We want that deep down non-judgmental connection, a real and honest friend, and that takes vulnerability and openness. Unfortunately, not many people are willing to be or do that. I think most people mean well but they waiver in making it a conscious decision and choice.

The saddest part is that we see you, as you are, not as you pretend to be. Your hiding translates as distrust, dishonesty, misrepresentation and a low level of value and worth to us as your friend. You’re inability and unwillingness to reach out, to lay yourself bare, freeing yourself of judgment and any worry of shame is not only holding you back, it’s impeding every one of your relationships.

No one wants to be friends with someone who pretends to have it all figured out. We all know that no one has it all figured out, so who are you trying to fool anyway?

Real. Honest. Open. That’s we want. We want your good days and bad days, not your false cover up stories and forced smiles. We want your tough days full of struggle and barely surviving, not your self proclaimed smooth sailing over calm waters.

Tell me the moment that built you. The exact moment you had nothing left to hide, where you had no choice but to ditch the shame that had suffocated you up to that point. Tell me the exact second you looked up from your lowest point, and felt the most unloved and unworthy, and let me love you anyway. Let someone love you because of that defining moment. That’s brave. That’s beautiful. That’s you.

We want to talk about your gains and losses, your failures, your heart break and how you fell flat on your face. Not how tough you are about hiding your failures, or how you have no fears and don’t need any help.

Life is rough. On those particularly rough days, life makes no sense. It is meant to be that way in order to mold us, develop us, process us and force us to grow. We need that. We can’t hide behind fear forever. The smile behind the tears will fade and lessen at some point. How can we expect to move mountains when our shoulders are formed by false strength?

It takes strength to say phrases like: “I’m not okay. I’m scared. I’m sad. I don’t have it figured out. I hurt. You hurt me. I’m disappointed in myself, or in you.” Be Strong.

It takes courage to say, “I messed up, I’m sorry. I don’t know how I feel or what I want.” It’s hard to say “I need you.” Be Brave.

I would much rather hear “you know what, I have had a horrible day and I’m gonna go home and take a bubble bath, or I’m gonna call my best friend or I’m gonna enjoy a glass of wine and try again tomorrow.” I’d rather hear that than “I’m fine” and knowing that you’re going to go home and cry alone and not process or release any of what’s bothering you in any type of a healthy environment.

We as human beings need interaction we need to be heard and to feel validated and vindicated and appreciated. We need love, it’s what feeds our souls. Why would you purposely want to deprive yourself of what we all need as individuals to grow and be happy?

Being positive doesn’t mean pretending everything is great. It means acknowledging that it isn’t, appreciating the lesson and knowing circumstances will improve. Don’t believe that sharing failure is a sign of weakness, because those afraid to fail are among the weakest. If your idea of acceptance is gained by pretending your life is perfect, you’ll have an endless battle with yourself. Only fools can look in the mirror and argue with the secrets staring back at them.

With all this said, I dare you. I dare you to have courage. I dare you to dust off and pull out that skeleton in your closet and share it. I dare you to admit a mistake, to share your past and tell someone you’re not perfect. I dare you to not fear shame, because once you release it to someone who accepts it, shame can no longer exist. I dare you to call someone and say, I need help, I’m not okay and I need to talk. I dare you to be honest with someone who hurt you, who let you down or disappointed you. I dare you to be vulnerable, to be strong and to be brave.

You are strong enough. You are smart enough. You are deserving and so greatly loved enough. I dare you to love yourself enough to be loved as a whole, all the tiny imperfect pieces that created you.

If I could have a word with you

One of the most vital parts of being a parent is making mistakes. Mistakes are what causes growth and results in lessons and ultimately change. On a daily basis I make mistakes and there are times I lay awake at night reviewing those, and how I made them, why I made them – and how to not make that same mistake again. Quite possibly I am about to give you more credit than deserved, because I am hopeful you lay awake at night and feel some sort of anything for the abandonment of your child. You do feel bad right? Maybe cry when no one is around because you make the same mistake day in and day out. You get angry at yourself for not calling, writing, asking for photographs, or knowing how his day is, right? You do realize the irreparable damage you have caused your child, right?

We have never been introduced, which is difficult, given the lack of involvement you have in your child’s life. I’ve seen you at one baseball game, when you moved back for a month, ten months ago, only to abandon your child, again. Since that time you called at Christmas, and not since. There are times; I desire nothing more than to shake some sense into you, and ask if you realize what you are doing, what you are losing? This is your child, my god! However, I feel as though that would fall upon deaf ears, and a cold heart. I’m not nice like everyone else, I don’t give you credit for being a good friend, or continue to bite my tongue for the sake of graciousness. You are messing up, you are wrong, and lack in any accountability what-so-over. But, my opinion won’t change you, will it?

nerfInstead I want to let you know something’s you don’t know about your child, and his life. Since you left again, he had his first school dance, where he didn’t dance at all, but had a blast. He loves dress shirts and ties, and really wants a three piece suit. He played football, and basketball for the first time. The other day he started baseball; and is showing strength in pitching. At practice the other day, he got hit in the head with a ball; don’t worry though his dad was there. He is terrified of getting hit with the ball by the way. He is having a nerf birthday party, which he is very excited about. There will be a nerf battle, and we ordered this great nerf gun cake, and his friends and family will be there, all of his family but you of course. Do you even know that tomorrow is his birthday? That he is turning nine? Will you even call him? Well, in case you don’t we are taking him to see the Oregon Ducks play a baseball game, he has no idea – and will be ecstatic! He even gets to meet the players, how awesome is that?

See, I may be  just dad’s girlfriend, but I have to wonder if I worry more about this little boy than you do. Sure, I have only been in his life for a year, the shortest amount of anyone but I can tell you this, in a years’ time he already asked me three times, if he can call me mom…because he doesn’t have one.  In fact he is making this board for his room right now, one of those tri-fold poster boards that you use for science projects – you know? Any how, he is putting pictures of his family on it, and he said “I’m going to put my dad and you in the middle and then us kids under that and on both sides.” Doesn’t that break your heart? Where is he putting a picture of you? Or, did the role of mom – not create a picture of you in his mind? That breaks my heart as a parent.  We share a home, a life, and are building a relationship every day, and there are hard days, mainly due to you. But, I don’t give up, and move away because when he moved into this home, he became my child too, and he moved into my heart. When he comes home from school, we help him with his spelling words, his multiplication facts – which he struggles with, and I try to show him I am woman he can trust, that won’t just leave one day. I grew up without a mother, and it something no child should experience.

Yes, he has constants in his life, Grandma, Aunts, and friends that have filled a void since you left fulfilling any piece of the role of mom – but you and I both know – no one can fill that role and void but you. He will always hold out hope that one day you will pull your head from wherever it is stuffed and realize the mistake you are making. Meanwhile, tomorrow I will spend the day with your child, and every time his fathers phone rings, I will hope that you are calling and that you don’t call at the same time. I hope you call because he so desires you to remember him, and what easier day for a parent to remember their child, then the day they were born. And, a part of me hopes you don’t call because in a sense it is easier for him to not be reminded that you exist, and get hopeful you’ll call again, or maybe come for a visit – only to be left sitting on the curb – with a broken heart.

He is a sweet boy, damn it! So naive in this world still; he is funny, extremely goofy and wants nothing more than to please. While snuggling with his dad last night, his dad said “You are almost too big to snuggle” and your child responded with, “I still fit in your lap” which was true. How long has it been, since he sat in yours? You never realize what you have until it’s gone, and you are losing a connection with your son.  You already lost a wonderful man, a giving man, a man who selflessly busts his ass to provide for your son, without the help emotionally, financially, morally or otherwise from you. He nurses the scrapes, attends every practice, every game, school conferences, plans birthday parties, etc…because he takes his role as a parent, seriously. When are you going to? Because, honestly every day you don’t, is a day you will regret down the road – and when your child is grown that void, will fill with questions of self-worth for himself and distaste for the woman who gave birth to him.