I don’t know what his name was. But what he said came at the perfect time. Three miles from the Finish Line in Miami, three weeks ago. His simple sentence: “You’ve got this.” Even though I felt like the dirt on the bottom of my shoe at that point, he said he believed I could do it. So I did. Thank you, kind Stranger-Man.
Thinking about those struggling to have children. I’m guessing this weekend is hard. Please know you’re seen. We want to help, not hurt. Our words are often awkward and fall short, so we’re just gonna do our best to get in your corner and let you know we’re with you. Moms matter. You do, too.
Thinking about single parents. Handed situations you didn’t cause or could’ve imagined, and yet every day you put on your cape and pull a double. To each of you, the job you do speaks louder than you realize. Strength and joy. May God give you both this weekend.
Thinking about two-parent homes. Thanks for your commitment. The whole lovely mess. Care, chaos, frustration, fun, fights, routine, and compromise. All while not being exactly sure of what we’re doing. Let’s believe the proof’s in the long-haul. It’s worth it.
I think we know it, but it’s good to hear it again. Living isn’t Instagram. This whole life thing is rarely as perfect as we’d like it to be. Strike that. It’s never that way.
But real love, the kind that keeps trying, or carries the load, or walks on, that kind of love, goes farther and lasts longer than any imperfection.
You don’t remember, but we chatted for the first time when you were about two minutes old. You were on this thing called a warming table, trying to get used to your new surroundings, and I was standing nearby, staring at your life. So proud, so in awe, so thankful.