Here I sit, in front of a roaring fire, in our modest suburban house, with most of my adult children under our roof for the moment. Our youngest is outside playing with the dog. Our two pets are healthy and well-fed, and our house is most definitely a home – arrayed and adorned with tasteful decor. As of this writing, late January, our Christmas trees are still up and twinkling, mostly because I have not tired of their beauty and light. We can look forward to a hearty meal later on, and the fire will still be lit, still give off heat, still beckon us to quiet contemplation. And why. Why am I so blessed, and why am I suddenly so aware of these blessings? 

Because I know that all of this is no accident. My husband and I have worked very hard for this. We have planned and sacrificed, sweat and cried together, and most of all, prayed. We do not deserve this by any stretch, and we know it could be taken from us in an instant – dear friends and loved ones suffering in California know this firsthand, and I would never presume God’s mercy. I am just so very grateful to be able to sit with it all today. If pushed, I would say it is mostly my husband’s doing. He has worked tirelessly at a job that he doesn’t particularly love. At times, he’s had to work two jobs just to make ends meet. From the moment we started dating, he knew that he would have to be the main provider for our family. He has painstakingly done so without fail. I’m realizing that this is a rarity in today’s culture. Guys like my husband are hard to find. My kids are so lucky to have his example to follow. My girls would do well to look closely at their dad’s virtues and seek someone just like him. (And, I’m thrilled to report that our oldest daughter already has!) But most of all, I would say it is my husband’s faith in God’s will for him that has made the difference. The willingness to walk this path and show up, without fail, to do all that God has set before him, to be open to life and open to change, to embrace his cross and take it up daily without question or complaint. 

If pushed, my husband would (hopefully) say that I have been an irreplaceable partner in the building of this life. In my motherhood, I have given of myself in bearing and raising these children, helped him build this house into a home, and been for him a sound heart and mind to lean on and trust wholeheartedly. I’m not perfect, that’s for sure, and we’ve definitely had our impossibly difficult moments, but we have consistently endeavored to work together to build this thing called Our Home, Our Family, Our Life. God has stretched me in ways unimaginable. There have been many instances of doubt and fear, and yes, even despair. At times, I have been tempted to think it was all a mistake, this mothering journey of mine. But by the grace of God, and that alone – it certainly wasn’t me – I have held fast. Sometimes by a thread, to be sure, but that thread? It has sustained me. 

None of this was accidental. Every last bit of it – God’s grace. Our path to each other and towards our family has been intentional, yet riddled with lessons of hope and mercy. There have been moments of extreme pain matched with gritty love. Life has knocked us to the ground too many times to count, and we have risen together, hauling the other to their feet, wiping the dust from the other’s clothes, spitting out the gravel and having another go. Leaning on Christ and his mercy, pleading with our Blessed Mother, feeling her gaze of love and understanding, and recommitting ourselves to the path laid before us, this has been our saving grace, and I am so unbelievably grateful.