Let me preface this by saying I am not pregnant! Don’t even think it!

We spent this past weekend in my hometown of Decatur. I don’t know if I’m so nostalgic right now because the end my parents’ time of calling Decatur “home” is on the horizon or because it’s already August of 2016 and I’m not sure where the time went.

I got to thinking about my dad this weekend. His birthday was Friday and I happened to mention how old he was turning. He stopped, sighed and went, “wow that sounds old” and then, because he’s Joe, he giggled. He’s warned me multiple times over the past decade of my life that you never really feel older. Your body feels older, sure, but sometimes he completely forgets he isn’t in his 20’s and actually has three kids that are! We turned out alright if I say so myself. John’s a lawyer, I’m on the way to becoming an architect, and Tanner is a pilot in the Air Force. We all have wonderful spouses that each bring something completely different to the table (literally the dinner table around holidays.. so much fun now!)

My parents did a great job in raising us, and I’m constantly racking my brain for memories on how they did it. I mean, we can’t even get Dobby to behave, how are we going to deal with a kid? I know a child will eventually learn to speak back to us, which will help. Actually – if my own childhood was any indication, I’m sure my parents would have preferred it if I didn’t become so vocal! And while of course I remember  being taught that “early is on time, and on time is late” [ Which does not apply to college parties, and I looked lame on a couple of occasions]. Some other, vivid,  memories of “course correcting” lessons that I received reluctantly and with a restriction or two attached are burned into my brain as well. But I think the most important impression that my parents left is that they really love us.

I don’t mean in a way when I was 13 I thought love was shown. I wasn’t given everything I asked for, or allowed to do whatever I wanted. But I knew my parents loved me. I knew that no matter what I did, or tried to get away with doing, they were going to love me despite the fact that they may not like me right then.

.And that is comfort and security. That has shaped me in more ways then I will ever know. And it’s affected my relationship with God. I’ve had no trouble in seeing that God loves me unconditionally and with open arms, because I was lucky enough to have an earthly father who showed that example. I’m definitely getting sappy here, but I have the best parents, and I don’t let them know that enough.

My parents never tried being the cool parents, they were parents first. They were coaches and fans. They were Sunday school teachers and PTA parents. They brought flowers to the opening night of my plays. They showed up when they could. My soccer team could always pick my mom out in the away crowds – she was not only yelling the loudest, but to this day my friends remember me calling her the “burnt marshmallow” in her black puffy jacket – affectionately, I swear mom. They daily expressed that we were important to them.

Thank the Lord this was never Sherry.

One summer during college, my dad was preaching while our pastor was out of town. We all happen to be home that weekend and were in the second row, per usual. My dad starts the sermon off with something along the lines of “I was terrified of being a parent. I really didn’t know if I even wanted kids.” As you can imagine, this took his three kids by surprise. He then goes on to say we ended up being alright, which was nice and all. But that first part has stuck with me. I’m terrified of being a parent. I’m selfish and narcissistic and lazy. And I’ve never seen those qualities in my parents. But as my dad has told me through the years, you kinda figure it out anyways as long as you try. I’ll learn and grow as my kids learn and grow. Now my dad really likes us (I’m pretty sure at least..) and having adult children seems like the most fun part of having kids to me, and seeing how much they love their granddaughter (my niece) is so much fun.

So as mine and Joel’s two year anniversary is coming up and we’re already starting to get the “when will y’all have little ones of your own” questions, I try not to freak out. It’s going to be a while, but if and when it happens I’ve got great examples (Joel’s parents could not love him more either!) of how to love my kids the right way, and pray for the rest to work out!

If that’s all it takes, Joel and I are ready today. Our pantry looks like we already have children.