Almost a year into our marriage, Sam and I bought a house. It was in coastal North Carolina, and it was much, much bigger than our tiny 1-bedroom basement apartment had been on Long Island. Because it was the tail end of Covid, and so many people were leaving New York for elsewhere, we had trouble finding a moving truck. There were literally none to be had anywhere near us and there weren’t any estimated to be for a long time.

So, we had the idea to drive our cars– packed as much as they could be– down to North Carolina, close on our home, and rent a moving truck from there. Then, Sam would turn around, drive the moving truck back to New York, get the rest of our stuff, before coming back down to our new home.

I wear very few items of jewelry on a daily basis. One piece that barely ever comes off is a small chain with a set of wings given to me by my sister. She gave it to me as we read Let Me Be a Woman by Elisabeth Elliot during her engagement. Chapter 8, “The Weight of Wings,” resonated with us both, even at our differing stages of womanhood and marriage.

There are days, as a parent, that your kids will test you. They will fight each other like they’re trying to draw blood. They will disobey and defy you in ways that will knock you off your feet. And they’ll act out in ways that makes me think at least, “I was NEVER like this as a child.” 

And maybe I wasn’t, but I’m sure in other ways, I was. I can remember plenty of times I got in trouble for talking back, being mean to my brother, or being disrespectful. I can remember plenty of times that I slammed my door as a teen, thinking that would show my parents how angry I was. And I know that my parents still loved me through it, but now I know how they must have felt on the other side of that door.