Sarah, Nate, Aimee, and Emily camping at San Simeon

Just returned late last night from three days of camping at the beach. My four kids and me. It was wonderful. And my heart is tired and also refreshed from nearly bursting with simultaneous pain, joy, love, fear, and gratitude.

If you don't understand this you have never had children.

My son stepped into a protective, manly mode, carrying heavy things, building fires, setting up the tent, and checking in with me on occasion by saying, "You okay, Mom? You need anything?" My daughters loved on one another, and him, and me, in the way that only fiercely loving females can do.

There was sun, and cool, salty fresh wind, and sand scrubbing our bodies clean, and long hours of lolling, walking, laughing, wrestling, arguing, talking, and simply being ourselves together in the way that families do.

God took hold of my life--and me--long ago, and seemingly said:

"Um... I know you have screwed up a lot, and made many mistakes that have deep and long-lived consequences. But boy I really love you, and your kids. And because I love you so much, I'm going to let you slide on all that stuff you did wrong, and at long last give you a life with amazing children, parents that love you unconditionally, a loving husband, and faithful friends... a life so full you will never for a moment be bored in it. Because I know how you hate to be bored. And I am not going to save you from all the pain, because that grows your heart, but I will walk through it with you.

And when you are afraid for your kids, I will be there to listen, and to remind you that you did even scarier things. And I will hold you, and reassure you that I love them way more than you do, and I've got their backs.

I love you, my funny child, and nothing you have ever done or will do can change that.

And by the way, that beautiful sunset over there...? Do yourself a favor. Chill for a minute and just sit in the beauty of it. I made it for you."

Sometimes I am so overwhelmed at being loved so much it makes me a little weak in the knees.