I have been given this amazing life. This journey that I am on with my husband and my children. We have been blessed beyond measure.
We live in an amazing community in Arizona. My husband has been called to do a very important job. I am able to stay home with our children. I know this is where we are suppose to be. This is what we are suppose to be doing. Our lives have meaning and purpose and we are walking this path in thankfulness and grace.
But, this. This is the hardest part.
Looking at this picture of my boys with fish. This will bring the tears. It makes me want to pack up all our things and head back to Wyoming.
I miss fishing. I miss loading the boys up in the car and sitting on the banks of Lake Desmet for hours. Watching my boys grow up with a pole in their hand. Waiting for that one big fish.
My four year old doesn't know how much fun it is to play with a fish. He doesn't know what kind of bait a trout would take. He doesn't know how to set the hook at just the right time.
I stop myself. I don't linger in this place of sadness for to long, just long enough to have a good cry.
I think about this day that my boys caught these two little fish. We were with family. Everyone came up to a small mountain town called Story and we had a picnic. We played baseball. It was a magical time.
And, I am thankful for this time. Time to spend with each other and enjoy the mountains. To be outside and do the things that we love.
We live in an amazing community in Arizona. My husband has been called to do a very important job. I am able to stay home with our children. I know this is where we are suppose to be. This is what we are suppose to be doing. Our lives have meaning and purpose and we are walking this path in thankfulness and grace.
But, this. This is the hardest part.
Looking at this picture of my boys with fish. This will bring the tears. It makes me want to pack up all our things and head back to Wyoming.
I miss fishing. I miss loading the boys up in the car and sitting on the banks of Lake Desmet for hours. Watching my boys grow up with a pole in their hand. Waiting for that one big fish.
My four year old doesn't know how much fun it is to play with a fish. He doesn't know what kind of bait a trout would take. He doesn't know how to set the hook at just the right time.
I stop myself. I don't linger in this place of sadness for to long, just long enough to have a good cry.
I think about this day that my boys caught these two little fish. We were with family. Everyone came up to a small mountain town called Story and we had a picnic. We played baseball. It was a magical time.
And, I am thankful for this time. Time to spend with each other and enjoy the mountains. To be outside and do the things that we love.
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