Two brothers

Two brothers. One date. One born--one died.

To the one who lives, God bless you. Your steadfastness in pressing forward, engaging in a good work is an inspiration. You have in your life: badgered me, annoyed me, praised me, allowed me to wear your t-shirts (a great privilege, I know), pushed my buttons, and tried to make me into a better person (etcetera, etcetera, and so forth). In watching you, I have seen what it is to be never-wavering, to be patient, and to persevere despite overwhelming odds. I love you more than I can possibly express.

To the one who died, God bless us all. The hole left in our hearts and lives through your absence, though softened by time, is a reminder that this life is short, and we are all in the hands of the Master. It is a reminder that Jesus Christ is a master craftsman who specializes in mending broken hearts. It is a reminder that because of and through His atonement, all good things are possible. Like one day, putting our arms around each other again. I miss you, but I am grateful for the sometimes still-sharp edges of the hole you left. It makes me remember what is important and what is not. I love you, little brother.

Aunts

My children are abundantly blessed with Aunts. Sixteen all together, I think. (and let's not even get into the great-aunts!) Last week, when Alan and I had to go out of town, two Aunts came to take care of the children. Now, these are not old-fashioned spinster-type ladies who have nothing better to do. They both took off work and flew out, shared fun times with the kids, (and left my house immaculate, by the way.) So, of course I am grateful that they came out to help . . . but there is something I am more grateful for.

Someday soon, my five girls will be growing up. And I recognize that there are important things that they will not always want to talk to their mother about. (I would have been mortified to tell my mother about my first kiss!) I'm not saying I'm not available--I would love it if my children were to tell me every detail of their lives (after all, we've held small celebrations for toilet bowl deposits, for crying out loud) but still sometimes a kid just needs an adult to talk to that's not her mom . . .

When my girls need someone to talk to and counsel with, they have all of these wonderful aunts. Aunts whom they love and trust (and already miss). And whom I love and trust. Those type of relationships are pure gold. So Rosemary and Emily, thank you for saving my bacon this last week. But I'm afraid that this is only the beginning. And I have a feeling that maybe, just maybe, you're good with that.