I fear death.  It’s not the end that scares me, but rather the feeling that I’ve only just begun.  I’m afraid for my children to grow up without my guidance.  I have so much left to teach them.

At 8, 8, and 10 they are just entering the tough years. The years that will be plagued with an overload of confusing emotions.  They’re going to need my help to figure out who they are and where they stand in this great big world.  If I am here to offer them a strong foundation of where they came from, then it will be much easier for them to understand, love and accept the direction of their own lives.

Gabe’s innate sense of fairness is unwavering.  I need to help him navigate through the reality that life isn’t always fair.

Taylor’s charismatic spirit is larger than life, and she commands attention everywhere she goes.  I need to help her blend in when necessary and take comfort in sharing the stage.

Sydney is always careful with the feelings of those around her.  I need to help her develop a thicker skin when the world isn’t kind in return.

All of this takes time.  And I pray to God that I will be here to continue to offer them support when I’m eighty years old.  But just in case I’m not…I write.  And in every entry, I leave for them a little piece of me.  A glimpse into what I would say or do in a given situation.  The encouragement necessary to make the often difficult choice to be the bigger, better person.  A cheerleader for taking comfort in who they are on the inside, instead of altering who they are on the outside.

Through my words, they will hear my voice.  Through my voice, they will know they are loved.  And through my love, they will find strength.