Thirty years ago, on a frigid December day, I came into this world to the best parents and siblings a girl could ever want. I showed up early, caused anxiety, and disrupted Christmas.
I think they’ve forgiven me. I think.
On Wednesday night at my Bible study, I got off on a tangent (imagine that) while speaking about the Immaculate Conception. God redeemed Mary, but He chose to redeem her by preservation, whereas we are redeemed by deliverance. That much was in the notes. But I got caught up in a reflection about my own life and how God has blessed me. No, I’m not saying I was preserved from sin ; ) But I am in awe of how much He has blessed me and how little I deserve it. He has saved me from so much pain, suffering, and heartache — because He gave me the family He gave me. I didn’t deserve to be born in the United States of America, to loving Catholic parents, who raised me well and continue to take care of me. I didn’t deserve to be taught the Faith from an early age, to be nurtured in the Church so that I could fall in love with Her.
I don’t deserve my incredible siblings, their spouses, and my nieces and nephews, either.
But it all comes back to Dad and Mom. They are the people who made my siblings and me the people we are today. Who made it possible for my sister to say yes to religious life. Who made it possible for my brother and sister to choose wonderful spouses, to raise wonderful kids.
I wish I could begin to express the gratitude that I have for my parents. I don’t want to embarrass them, and if I listed everything this blog post would be never-ending, so I won’t go into detail — but Dad and Mom, you know what I’m talking about. For today and for every day of the last thirty years — thank you.
I realized after writing this post that I don’t have a picture of just my mom and me. I’ll have to remedy that when I go home for Christmas!