These aren’t my kids.

These aren’t my kids. 

I mean–they are. But they aren’t. 

They’re God’s kids, and they’re on loan. He’s given me the task of raising them, of helping them to grow in grace and stature into the man and woman He created them to be. 

I am honored and intimidated at the same time. I really don’t want to disappoint Him. 

After all, He decided to give my little angels THE cutest baby feet on the block, for which I’ll be forever grateful from the bottom of my heart.:)

What a handsome little guy. I want him to be strong and brave, humble and honest, gentle and kind, thoughtful, joyful, prayerful and peaceful. 

Faith has smiled at every single person she has ever laid eyes on. Since she could smile. What must it be like to see something to smile about in every person you ever meet? 

Of course, I often want to ask whose kids these are when one or both of them pitches a huge fit every time we head out the front door to go somewhere. Or arrive home. It happens pretty much without fail. And don’t my neighbors know it. God sure knows how to keep this Handmaid humble! All He does is send me out on everyday errands with two-in-tow and He starts pouring out the graces…