Mr. Mom

2007-06-20T17:28:00.000-04:00

A Major "Dad Moment"

I was proud to have been a participant in a major "dad moment" this past Father's Day. This was the second Father's Day without Dad, but his memory is never far away from my mind. As we were eating lunch, Chase dropped his entire plate of food down his once clean "church" shirt. Food splattered against his clean church pants. I, sitting next to him, also absorbed the french fries, hot dog, ketchup, and mustard on his plate. I just stared at my son for a couple of seconds; unsure of how to handle a crowded restaurant and a suddenly messy 7-year-old boy. The waitress immediately came and supplied napkins. Rachel blushed and looked out the window. Eli laughed, and Brooks dipped a piece of his chicken into the ketchup that was spilt on Chases' shoulder. As I studied the situation, Chase began to sniffle back tears.

I suddenly remembered one of my own Father's Day mishaps when I was a kid. When I was 10, I couldn't think of a better Father's Day present than for my father to take me fishing. That was my present every Father's Day until I became a young man, but I think Dad really enjoyed it as much as I did. It slowly became a Father's Day tradition that we caught our best fish on that day, although I was actually a horrible fisherman. While we were on the water, I finally hooked a "big one." I could feel it through my fishing rod and into my palms, and I knew I was going to make Dad proud. All of a sudden, the fish won. I broke the rod, and I fell into the water. I panicked, and Dad jumped in to "save me". I felt like I ruined Father's Day. We went home, dried our clothes and bodies, and I just sat in my room thinking I had just disappointed my hero. A few minutes later, Dad knocked on my bedroom door. He came inside, sat down on my bed, and told me he loved me. He said, "they're just clothes, Joseph." My shame melted away, and I hugged my father.

Sitting at the restaurant, I looked at Chase. His bottom lip was quivering, and he was holding back his tears with a hand to his forehead. I hushed the other kids, and I took Chase to the restroom. I evaluated his condition there, and I soon realized that we'd have to just go home so that both of us could change into clean clothes. As I was wiping his arms and face free from ketchup and mustard, Chase sniffled, "I'm sorry, Daddy." I kissed Chase's head and said, "they're only clothes, honey." We eventually left the restaurant with five boxes of food; with Chase and I wearing the rest.

Thank you, Pop!

Joe

2007-03-06T18:24:00.000-05:00

I sometimes wonder if I'll die a miserable, lonely, old man. For some particular reason, I can't fathom myself moving on in that department. Part of me doesn't want to, and the other part of me is scared of that plunge again. I have my kids. I have my life wound tightly within their own lives. When they eventually leave this home, I'll be lost. God, let time slow down.

Joe

2006-08-09T20:03:00.000-04:00

It has come to my attention, thanks to Beth, that I haven't updated this place in awhile. Summer is always a busy time around here. I suppose there is need for an update.

Rachel went away to camp again this year. She is becoming an amazing young woman; something I don't completely understand, but I welcome with a grateful heart. She came home with several stories, and she's anxious to go back next year. She will be a freshman in high school when school begins later this month. The days pass too quickly. She is beginning to look so much like Faith did when she was Rachel's age. We talk more, and I credit a very special woman who has stepped in to guide Rachel through this changing time in her life. Jean, along with her husband, have really provided Rachel an outside outlet when "Dad can't fix it."

Eli went away to camp too this summer, although his camp was local. He enjoyed the overnight opportunities, and he made a few new friends. Now, I can't seem to get one of those new friends out of my house. Eli will be going into fifth grade this year. He continues to read each and every book about outer space and astronauts that you place in front of him, and he's even begged me to attend a shuttle launch in Cape Canaveral. He's become quite a ballplayer as well. He led his team in RBI's this past season.

Brooks' cast has been removed, and he's back to his usual self. He will be in fourth grade this year, and he's excited to have the same teacher that Eli had last year. That's the only positive feeling he has right now about school. He's at that age where he feels he could survive without school because he's going to be in professional baseball one day. He's turning into such a little me. I was shuffling through pictures the other night, and I found one of me when I was around Brooks' age. The similarities were striking; poor kid.

Without trying to brag, my cape isn't completely torn with my older boys, but it's tattered. With Chase, that cape is still bright red. All of the kids have been protective of me over time, but he's become very protective. We've had our talks about that. Later this month, I will give him away to the wide and open world of first grade. Neither of us are prepared. My greatest fear is that I will let out the stress through work again. I don't want to do that. He's looking forward to flag football and future Little League, and he's excited to finally be a "four-footer." We reached that level earlier this year.

I'm so proud of all of them, and I'm humbled to be their daddy. It's one of the greatest feelings in the world to know that these four lives will enter this world someday and really make a difference.

As for me, there will always be days when I wake up lonely. I have come to believe that there will be days when I just wake up with a sinking feeling, and some of those days will occur for the rest of my life. It will be five years this September since I last saw my wife and daughter. It will be five years since I last kissed my wife; last held my little girl. It will be five years of constant solo-parenting. It will be five years of trying to provide double the hugs, double the kisses, double the talks, and double the love. I just can't bury my head in the sand next month. Life continues to move forward, and this family will continue to move forward too.

2006-03-20T12:58:00.000-05:00

On the behalf of my children, I'd like to thank you for the comfort and strength you have given to each of us. Pop would have been so humbled to see that love and support. As Paul said in Philippians, "For me; to live is Christ, and to die is gain." Pop's gained the sight of His Kingdom now, and he has heard those words he waited so long to hear; "Well done, my good and faithful servant."

It's been four days since the funeral, but it already feels like an eternity has passed by us. He's home; he's free. Thank you, again, for your comfort.

One of Pop's favorite hymns was "The Old Rugged Cross." He heard the song, and it brought tears to his eyes. My nephew sang this song for him on Thursday. God bless.

Joe

The Old Rugged Cross

"On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross,
The emblem of suffering and shame;
And I love that old cross where the dearest and best
For a world of lost sinners was slain.

So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
And exchange it some day for a crown.

O that old rugged cross, so despised by the world,
Has a wondrous attraction for me;
For the dear Lamb of God left His glory above
To bear it to dark Calvary.

So I'll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
And exchange it some day for a crown.

In that old rugged cross, stained with blood so divine,
A wondrous beauty I see,
For ’twas on that old cross Jesus suffered and died,
To pardon and sanctify me.

So I'll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
And exchange it some day for a crown.

To the old rugged cross I will ever be true;
Its shame and reproach gladly bear;
Then He’ll call me some day to my home far away,
Where His glory forever I’ll share.

So I'll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
And exchange it some day for a crown."

2006-01-21T22:08:00.000-05:00

Chase rode his Spiderman bike today without training wheels! We took them off, at his request, and he was a professional out there this afternoon. He fell down twice, but he got right back on the bicycle. By the end of the afternoon, he was riding without falling. His balance was steady, and he was so excited! The process appears to be over; after months of bumps and bruises. He found inspiration, and he didn't stop until he rode with confidence. One day, it's a bicycle. You blink, and it's a car. I'm so proud of our kids.

Joe

2005-11-29T22:28:00.000-05:00

This Thanksgiving, there was an awful lot to be thankful for as we all gathered around the table. I am thankful for an amazing Lord. He has risen me from the depths of frustration and grief to the peaks of happiness and forgiveness. As Paul said in Romans 5:3-4, "Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope." This family has suffered so much in these past few years, but we have have persevered as a strong unit. Without my faith, I would be floating on the breeze right now.

I am also thankful for a wonderful mother, father, and three sisters. I had to put up with a lot of torture as a boy with the three of you, but I will never find a group of ladies in this lifetime who will stick up for me the way you always did in the past and always will in the future. We were blessed to grow up with two loving parents. The lessons I am passing on to my children today; they stem from the lessons those two taught us when we were younger. Be respectful. Work hard. Love like there's no tomorrow. I could not have a greater role model, Dad, than you.

I am thankful for the love of an amazing woman. I didn't deserve that amount of love, but she gave it anyway. I miss her so much. I miss her laughter, smile, voice, and even her tears. I miss the way she smiled and crinkled up her nose when I took my shirt off; showing me that she didn't think 35 was old. I miss her holding our babies right before sleep. I used to lie awake; listening to her sing to our kids over the baby monitors. On some nights, I even fell asleep to that sweet voice. I just miss every detail of her character and beauty. I am so thankful that God allowed me to be that close to perfection; even if only for eighteen years.

I am thankful for the kids that Faith and I created together. They are terrific kids, aren't they, Pop? We can't wait until your arrival next weekend. Even fourteen years ago, there were no kids. God then blessed us with five little gifts. I don't know why God chooses to do what He does sometimes, but I suppose He needed one of my gifts to wait for me in Heaven. I will await patiently the day when I will be able to see my precious little girl again. My kids just mean the world to me, and I am so happy that I get to be their Daddy. It's the greatest feeling on Earth.

I am thankful for friendships I have made along the way in my 42 years, and I am also thankful for a community of believers that we have grown to love over the years. God has blessed us tremendously. Even through the hardships, the suffering, and the grief; we have a lot to be thankful for this holiday season.

Joe

2005-11-18T22:34:00.000-05:00

Something unexpected happened a couple of days ago. I lost my wedding ring. I feel completely naked without it on my finger. I twist and grab at my ring finger, mostly out of habit. It's not the money that concerns me about losing the ring. It's not even the ring itself. That circle of jewelry was chosen specifically by her. She placed that ring on my finger herself. As you know, and Faith made well aware, I didn't wear a ring for our first ten years. Now, I can't imagine my finger without it. I have re-traced my steps and combed this house, but I can't find that ring. I'm sorry, Honey.

2005-10-04T22:01:00.000-04:00

Is this the beginning of a mid-life crisis? I haven't shaved since Friday morning; although I own a razor. I have been wandering through the days recently, and I'm not sleeping well. Even when I went a day without shaving when Faith was alive, she let me know what she thought about my condition. "You look terrible, go shave!" I would give anything to even hear her call me "terrible" these days. I just want to be a good dad. I want to be a good Christian. I want my wife back so I can show her that I can be a good husband too. Mid-life crisis? Maybe.

Joe

2005-09-07T20:07:00.000-04:00

I went to the cemetary this morning, and there was a young family gathered around a marker. After the family left, I walked over to where they had been standing moments earlier. On the marker, the words, "Daughter, Wife, Mother, Grandmother" were set in a solitary heart. As I walked back to Faith and Natalies' graves, I began to think of all the roles they played in the lives of those who knew and loved them.

The moment I saw Faith, I was smitten. I knew I wanted to marry her that late summer day on the campus of the University of Connecticut. It was not a question of how I was going to spend my life with her, it was a question of, "how can I get her father to allow me to spend the rest of my life with her?" I gradually won the hearts of Faith's parents, and her father gave the blessing for marriage in the autumn of 1989. Faith was a daughter.

Over the course of our relationship, I have had a great opportunity to stand in amazement at the relationship Faith had with her siblings. On the Thanksgiving holiday in my senior year of college, Faith and I decided to travel to Tennessee. When I arrived at their house, I was given a friendly warning. "My sister is a saint. Don't hurt her feelings." At the time, I thought this statement was going to symbolize the relationship I held with Faith's brother. However, I now realize that the statement was given out of love for a sister. With three sisters of my own, I understand her brother's words. He was right; Faith is a saint. Faith was a sister.

We finally married on May 11, 1990. She was the most beautiful woman these eyes have ever seen, and I was the luckiest man for being able to look into those eyes every day. The ceremony was small, and her brother was even my best man. I suppose his words were water under the bridge by the time that day arrived. He knew I loved his sister. On that day, Faith became a wife.

Rachel arrived in May of 1992. Elijah was born in November of 1995. Brooks came along in March of 1997, Chase in October of 1999, and Natalie in May of 2001. Faith was beautiful when I met her. She was stunning on our wedding day. She was gorgeous while pregnant. I remind myself that women go into labor every day, but she made those fives days in our marriage look incredibly simple. Her love for our children, and her passion in raising them, is an area I miss now. She knew the answers before the questions were asked, an art that I have since tried to perfect; resulting in failure most of the time. Faith was a mother.

Faith fulfilled many other roles; granddaughter, niece, aunt, cousin, friend, etc. However, her most important roles were those she fulfilled for her Lord and for her family. Over the last four years, I have gained a greater appreciation for the woman I was lucky enough to meet; and even luckier to marry.

Joe

2005-08-08T19:53:00.000-04:00

Crawford Family Updates:

I noticed that I have not updated this for awhile (thank you for reminding me, Beth), so I thought I would pass along some updated news on the family.

Kids:

Rachel: Rachel is back from camp now. She spent the last three weeks in northern Georgia at the same camp she attended last year. She made several friends while there, and I don't think she was ready to leave when we picked her up. The boys and I flew up there on August 5th, and the trip was very interesting at best. Rachel will be an official 8th grader next Tuesday. Thank God for school uniforms, so that does save on having to shop in that department for school. We ordered some new uniforms, and they should be here in time for school. Honestly, she hasn't really grown out of last year's clothes.

Elijah: Eli has written his first novel at the age of nine (a regular Hemingway if you ask me), and he's looking forward to your approval, Pop. It's titled, "The Big Dog." It's a great suspense novel of friendship and struggle on the mean carpets of an old farmhouse. It's all of ten pages, but it has amazing illustrations, if I may dote. When he let me read it the other day, I got in my office drawer and pulled out a set of star stickers. I found a gold one, and I stuck it on the front. It's now officially published. ;) In school news, Eli is ready to venture back into the classroom. He's going to be in 4th grade this year, and he already has his backpack filled with the supplies he needs to start the school year off on the right foot.

Brooks: Brooks is not as anxious to start school as his older brother, but he did perk up when we ordered his uniforms the other day. I let him pick out his clothes, which consist of either three combinations of colors, but it allowed him the opportunity to decide for himself. He's going into 3rd grade this year, and he's looking forward to creating more projects in Science. That's his favorite subject. In other Brooks news, he received a little trophy the other day from a local library. It was a "Mission to Read" program that was held all summer long, and he read the most books this summer out of 200 kids in his age group. The trophy had a little space shuttle on it and a book. The plate even had his name on it. It was pretty impressive. He beamed when he won it, and it hasn't left the table beside his bed since he brought it home unless it was to show those who have not seen it.

Chase: Chase is undergoing one of the biggest changes of all the kids. He is beginning Kindergarten this year, and it's still up in the air as to how he is feeling about this step. One day, he wants to go to school. The next day, he wants to cling to my knees. I don't know how he will react when the day finally arrives next Tuesday. He, like Brooks, did become excited when we ordered his first official school uniforms. He's one of the "big kids" now. He has lost another tooth recently as well. He was excited to wake up and realize that the Tooth Fairy left him a dollar. I took the boys to Buccaneers training camp the weekend before last, and the tooth just popped out. He looked scared and nervous when he saw the blood, but he didn't want to leave the stands. I had to stick the tooth in a pocket of my wallet, and Chase drank some of my bottled water. We even ended up getting a few autographs, so I think that cheered his day up. He's growing up so fast, Pop, Mama and Papa O, girls and families, you wouldn't hardly recognize him. I hope you received the pictures I sent you of the cook-out.

Me: I am about as well as I can be right now, I think. It becomes busy around this time of year with school right around the corner, but it should calm down once they are back in. I am still considering the move, but I am worried that this would take me back to where I was a few years ago. I haven't explored the option since I was approached with it, and I'm just going to play it by ear right now. Karen, you would be proud of your baby brother. I managed to cook your lasagna without burning it this time. It tastes better that way, and even Chase ate every bite. Thank you for passing along that recipe. Brooks was hesitant, but then I told him that Aunt Karen sent me the recipe. He ate it.

I went to the cemetary this morning, and there were flowers on Natalie's grave. I did not know who put them there, but I noticed that they were also on the graves of every young child in that cemetary. I thought that it was a nice gesture from whoever might have put them there. I went to the funeral home office, and they said that they did not place them there. It's a sweet mystery. I cut back the grass, and I wiped the dirt off of their markers. I left Rachel at home with the boys, so I could not stay for a great length of time. There was a new call home, however, as there was a dirt mound about 20 feet from where I stood.

2005-07-21T02:30:00.000-04:00

I asked Chase to draw his feelings about Faith, and I'm not so sure that this is what I had in mind when he was finished. I am speechless.

2005-07-18T16:14:00.000-04:00

My 42nd birthday came and went on Saturday with little fanfare or celebration. The boys and I took Rachel to summer church camp up in the Atlanta area, and the majority of my birthday was spent helping Rachel adjust to life at this camp for three weeks. I have never really made a fuss over my birthday in past years, and this year was no different. There were no birthday cards or presents. It's just another date on the calendar. So, here begins my 42nd year of life, and I can only wonder what the next 42 years will bring for this family.

Joe

2005-07-07T17:38:00.000-04:00

A fellow asked me the other day to describe the mind of a workaholic. He is soon to become a member of an amazing group; that of fathers. His son is set to be born in early September, and we had a conversation in our men's group at church about the issue of parenthood; its glory, frustration, and anxiety. It was here where the question about workaholism came forth, as we sat waiting for the Sunday School leaders to release my kids. It was a simple question, "Joe, what goes through a workaholic's mind?" I could have written a book with my answer.

Workaholism is real, and it can corrupt your mind, body, and soul if you allow it to reach that far into your life. It has a grip on you. It doesn't let go. It takes on a life of its own, to the point that you feel useless outside of work. It secretly whispers to you all your faults and your weaknesses, and it tells you that you cannot survive without bowing to its demands. You become so wrapped up in workaholism that you give it life. You make it breathe. It becomes everything about you, and you don't recognize who you are without it. You can look in the mirror, but you lose your identity. Your being becomes your work, and that work always has unattainable expectations. You lose track of your priorities, and you hurt those closest to you. You hurt them, not by your actions, but by your lack of them. Once you're deep into that hole, everything becomes dark around you. You tell yourself that you will change the demon, but you can't change what you don't recognize. Since it's now a part of your existence, it's like air or water. You need it to live. You can't explain it, and you can't expect others to understand. It tells you that you are weak, that you are a failure, and that you are nobody. You alienate your loved ones, and you lose yourself.

I hope that young man never experiences that torture, but too many people do these days. It is a dangerous road, and it's difficult to right yourself once you had stepped too far. It's just not worth it.

2005-07-05T23:15:00.000-04:00

I was trying to get Brooks and Chase to release some of their natural childhood energy, so I took all the boys on an outing to the park the other day. Soon after taking a seat on a nearby bench, close to the swings in case my little Spiderman became bored with swinging and began to climb the set, I met a man walking a similar path. We watched our kids on the playground, laughed when one of them created a light moment, and we were what we were as we sat there. We were daddies, hoping our kids were having fun in the afternoon heat. We struck up a conversation, mostly one which revolved around local sports or occupations. He then asked me a question I have tried avoiding over the years, but he innocently didn't know my situation. He laughed and asked if I was giving my wife an afternoon off. I explained my situation, and he apologized. He then explained his situation. His wife died of breast cancer in 2003. He is now left to raise a 10-year-old and 6-year-old on his own. They are both boys, and he told me that having sons is a blessing. He wouldn't have been able to properly raise a daughter. I smiled at that remark. The next few minutes were filled with the silence that usually occurs after explaining what happened to my wife and daughter. After a couple hours, the man rounded his boys up; thanked me for conversation, and he left. I wish I would have asked what his own battle with widowhood and single fatherhood felt like, but the topic never really came up in our conversation. I wish I would have at least offered future conversation. I wish I would have at least known his name. I thank him for the conversation, whoever and wherever he is tonight. I know I'm not alone, and that makes me feel better.

2005-07-04T01:15:00.000-04:00

Mom would have turned 70 years old today. Dad, I know you are reading this, and I'm sorry that I cannot relieve your hurt; not only over losing a wife but also the mother of your children. Your marriage and committment to each other has been one of the greatest sources of inspiration in my life.

Kathy, Beth, and Karen; our traditions and values that we hold dear to our hearts; we know the truth. They came from her. I could not have asked for a greater set of sisters; although most of my childhood was spent feeling wrongly accused. We have turned out well, and we have two loving and caring parents to thank for that. Andrew, Josie, Jack, Olivia, Lily, Ryan, Walker, Rachel, Elijah, Brooks, and Chase; you have the gift of an amazing legacy your grandmother left. I hope we can raise you with as much dignity and grace as we ourselves were raised. Natalie, as you sit on grandma's lap each day, please give her a kiss from all of us who long for that touch again. I can't wait for the day when I will see you, Mama, and Mamaw again.

Mom, it has been a decade since we said good-bye. Please take care of my babies up there in Heaven, and watch over the rest of us down here on Earth. Happy 70th birthday. I love you.

Joe

2005-07-02T17:12:00.000-04:00

Chase on shoulders

2005-07-02T16:10:00.000-04:00

This is Chase's self-portrait (with help from Rachel) of the two of us out on the water of Long Island Sound after a recent trip to Connecticut. Chase told me that he is the "captain" in this picture because he is showing me where to "make the boat go." The kids and I had a great trip to CT this year, and I was also glad that Dad was able to join us out on the water. Lady Luck sailed as strong as ever!

2005-07-02T15:10:00.000-04:00

When I was growing up, Mr. Mom was the last occupation on my mind. I wanted to be the starting pitcher on some future World Series winning Yankees team. They were my team. In our neighborhood, there were pretty much two teams. You either liked the Yankees, or you liked the Red Sox. I was blessed with a father who loved the Yankees, and they were my team. Therefore, it's not hard to imagine a boy from Connecticut wanting to play in the magical halls of Yankee Stadium.

As I grew up, my career goals changed. I began playing football as a youngster, but I became serious about the sport when I was an 8th grader. I developed a strong work ethic, and I rode the sport into college. In my junior year, I blew out my knee. My football glory days were over. Still, I had no desire to become a Mr. Mom.

A couple years prior to my career ending injury, I met the love of my life. She didn't care much for the danger of football, although she supported my dreams. Her name was Faith, a perfect name for the angel that God gave to me that day.

Faith and I married on May 11, 1990. We married in a small church ceremony, but I didn't really notice the ones in attendance that day. My eyes were fascinated with hers. I grew up with three older sisters, so I had been convinced from an early age that I did not want children. I learned quick that, to keep my girl, I had to give in a little.

Rachel was born on May 9, 1992. Faith's labor pains were matched only by my nausea that day, as I learned first-hand how amazing life is in its beginning. For the nine months leading up to the big day, I heard stories about how "connected" that feeling is when you see your child for the first time. Those stories are correct. Everyday, I thank God for the gift of a daughter. Rachel would be the only daughter we would have for nine years; because the boys kept coming.

Elijah was born on November 5, 1995. As soon as he came out of the womb, I naturally acted the way any father would act when his boy is born. I counted. Ten, ten, one; it's a boy! His smile lit up the nursery, and so did his cries. Having a boy connects me to my own childhood. It connects me to my father like nothing ever could in this life.

As the boy brigade continued, Brooks blessed the world on March 4, 1997. As I held him minutes after Faith gave birth, I noticed the look in his eyes. He was studying me. He looked straight into my faults, my fears, my weaknesses, and then he smiled (regardless of what others might think). My boy smiled at me.

Our last son, Chase, was born on October 14, 1999. As Faith was sleeping that night, I held him; alone. I poured my heart into this tiny miracle; just as I had done with his brothers and sister. Chase will begin kindergarten this fall. It doesn't seem possible. He's still my baby boy. I'm not ready for that next step.

After Chase was born, I thought we were finished with children. I had my "perfect" family, and I was content. Faith was not, and she held the final say in the baby department. Natalie was born on May 21, 2001. When she was born, time stopped for me. I had never experienced this next particular feeling in any of our other childrens' births. I knew that Natalie was going to change the world. I did not assume; I knew. Natalie was going to change this place. She came out with an agenda on her mind. Unfortunately, I never had a chance to hear it.

You might be wondering, at this point, why this site is titled, "Mr. Mom" when I was obviously married with children. On September 13, 2001, the rug was pulled from beneath my feet. We ran out of milk. I could not have predicted that running out of milk would have been so life-changing at the time.

I was upstairs giving our younger two boys a bath, when Faith yelled to me up the stairs. She told me she was running to the store for milk, and she was taking Natalie with her. About an hour later, I received a telephone call from a local police officer; who also attended our church. He told me there had been an accident, and he would be there to pick me up. I made arrangements with the children to stay at a neighbor's house, and a million different scenerios were flashing through my mind as I sat waiting for my ride.

As Doug and I were driving to the accident scene, I kept praying to God to not take my girls. I told Him He could have anything in this life; anything He wanted from me; if He only let my girls be ok. Unfortunately, I learned that night that God doesn't always answer prayers with an answer that suits you.

When we arrived at the scene, there were emergency vehicles gathered around like they were on a movie set. Then, I saw the scariest image of my life. Our automobile was almost unrecognizable. After an identification process, one of which I don't remember, I was told of the details surrounding the accident. A young man was driving home from spending the night drinking with his friend, and his car met our car head-on coming over a hill. Faith and Natalie were killed instantly, and the young man suffered only a broken arm. He did not even remember the accident. To this day, I still have nightmares of that scene. I can still see my daughter's car seat, smashed between the front two seats. I can still see the lack of skidmarks on the road, and that only makes it more difficult. They didn't even have time to flinch.

Shortly after their deaths, my mother-in-law came to live with us. She helped me out tremendously with the kids, and I owe an awful lot of our coping skills to her. She kept this family grounded. I learned, from her presence, how much I will miss growing old with Faith.

Prior to their deaths, I worked in stocks and bonds in outside employment. However, I quit my job in December of 2001 to be at home with my kids. They needed me, and I needed them. I opened up a tax service, which I still have today. Where I was once a workaholic, working in upwards of 60 hours a week; now I put my children first. I coach Little League, Pop Warner football, and I'm even a "squad father" on Rachel's cheerleading squad. The kids are now 13, 9, 8, and 5.They are growing like weeds, and they are the greatest blessings in this life. Although I have suffered the greatest loss, I have also gained. I have gained an understanding and appreciation for Faith like I never had on this Earth. I owe everything to that little Tennessee girl, and I only hope that I am making her proud.