When I walked into the house this evening, I had the baby in her carrier hanging from my forearm. A breast pump and my purse were draped over my left shoulder and my lunch box and her baby bag over the right shoulder. I was so grateful to smell dinner. I’d forgotten about the genius move I made this morning by tossing some drumsticks and barbecue sauce in my Crock-Pot. I was too relieved! I put everything down and made my way to the simmering pot to sneak a taste (and burn my tongue). I’m so grateful that while I was at work this appliance was slowly making our dinner…

I speak to my father a few times a year.  Just a handful. Face-to-face encounters are even more sparse. The dysfunction in my parents’ marriage was rampant during my childhood. As a young adult, I married a man who later realized he just wasn’t that into it. I became a divorced, single mother at the age of 30. That was unpleasant. Until a certain point, the men in my life brought me disappointment. Then, I joined a church. And the men in that church began to bring me some other things. Getting to know them put a promise in my heart and hope in my spirit. I became a witness to something. Good…