I married the wrong man…

In 1982, when my husband Steve and I met, I knew we were soulmates. We liked the same outdoor activities—skiing, biking and hiking. Together, we tended a small garden and canned the produce. He worked on my car and I cooked in his kitchen. We attended the same small church and eagerly contributed to the church community. He helped with building repairs and maintenance. I taught Sunday school.

After dating just over a year, we married, bought a house, and eventually had three kids.

We’d been married awhile, maybe, a few years, when I realized our vast differences must mean that we were actually not soulmates. I worried that I had married the wrong man.

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On our daughter’s birthday, we wonder…

Wedding day

Yesterday, as I shopped for school supplies, I overheard a frustrated teacher talk loudly as she searched for a type of pencils with soft grips. She explained to the sales associate, “My students don’t hold their current pencils quite right. A soft grip might help.”

Yesterday was my daughter Cara’s 24th birthday. Currently, she’s living in Port-au-prince, Haiti and there are 1550 very long miles of earth and sea separating us. On her birthday, I wasn’t going to see her to celebrate, so I was thinking of her almost every moment of the day.  The teacher’s comment made me think of her again and wonder: Had I held my daughter quite right? All those years that I had her close. Did I hold her quite right?

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