Never in my wildest dreams

Growing up, I was the product of a single parent household. My father passed away when I was six years old leaving my mother with two kids to raise on her own. She was blessed to have the support of her parents (who lived an hour away) along with my father's family (who lived in the same town) to help take care of myself and my brother. I didn't have a bad child hood by any means but we definitely weren't wealthy either, at least not when it came to money. My mother was a stay-at-home mom when my father passed and she continued that roll for three years before getting a part-time, temporary, job outside of the home. We lived off of Social Security and rarely ate anything but home cooked meals. Going to McDonald's was a huge treat! Staple Sunday after church meals were meatloaf, pork chops, or pot roast. Can I just tell you I didn't eat any of those dishes for quite a few years because of the overload of them during my childhood! She dated a handful of guys throughout the years but never remarried. She’s still a single mom, even though her children are now 37 and 38.

I always said I didn’t want to follow in my mom’s footsteps of getting married late in life (she was 31) and having children late as well (at age 33 and 34) so I set a goal. My goal was to be married and either have a child or be pregnant by the age of 25. Ha! Looking back at the goal of mine I’m thankful I wasn’t married at that age or had children. Not that I wouldn’t have enjoyed it or loved my husband/children any less, but I think timing for all that I have has played out well. I was 31 when I became pregnant and 32 when I gave birth. I wasn’t married but I was in a committed relationship. 

From previous posts in my blog you’ll see that I haven’t always been a single mom and it definitely wasn’t a choice I ever thought about. Life happens, choices happen, and God guides. Growing up I attended a very small Christian church in my hometown. It wasn’t anything fancy and normal Sunday attendance was roughly 40-50 people at best. There was a handful of kids in the church and while we often did lots of fun things, I never found church to be a place that I longed to be. When I got old enough, and brave enough, to tell my mom I wasn’t going to go to church anymore, I stopped going. She wasn’t happy but not a lot she could do really. Fast forward to the spring of 2011 when life as I knew it was falling apart and I didn’t know how I was going to fix anything or begin to attempt to move forward. I sought counseling, which definitely helped in the very dark and rough times, but often my counselor would mention church to me as a place to seek a relationship with God who could ultimately help me pick myself up, restore me, and guide me to where He wanted me to be and where I needed to be. A year later, in the spring of 2012, I finally made the decision to go. I’ll never forget that first Sunday I stepped foot into the building. It was overwhelming. People everywhere. I held back tears that entire service and only let loose of them once I was in my car. Here I was, a 33 year old single mom with a roughly 18 month old walking into a place where I felt I was being judged before I ever got there for sinning by having a child out of wedlock. BUT, I knew that no matter what, I needed to be there. God called me to be there and honestly, he saved my life that day. He saved OUR lives that day. It was the beginning of picking up the pieces from my shattered world and I’ve not looked back since.