When the kids were 10, 8 and 6, they boarded a plane with Mike to Philadelphia. Mike, for work, and the kids to spend a week with Nana and Grandad Shostak. I sat at the gate and watched the plane pull away (pre 9/11) and panic began to rise. They were all on that plane. What if something bad happened?
Then God stepped into the panic. What if they have reached the end of their planned time on earth? What if it's time for them to come back to me? What if on the day I gave them to you, I knew it would only be for a short time? Did you do your best? Can you hand them back to me knowing you took care of them as I wanted? That even though their time was short, you helped them become what I envisioned when I first created them?
That stopped the panic cold. Slowly I started breathing and thinking and my head nodded, yes. Yes, I had done my best. Then I gave God permission to be God. Even with my childrens' lives.
We are only loaned our loved ones; they do not belong to us.
I'm just the caretaker God selected to help Robert, Ryan and Lizzy become all he envisioned when he created them. What an amazing, and humbling, honor.