Tag Archives: son

February 23, 2025 · 4:22 AM

Boy, Oh Boy!

February 23, 1982

My consciousness slowly swam up through the wooziness of the anesthesia.
“Wake up. You have a healthy, bouncing boy.”
Oh boy! A son. His hair was fine—golden brown—eyelashes long, lips full, and he had a slight dimple in his chin. Yep, he definitely was all boy. One look at his privates confirmed the obvious. After having three girls, I didn’t know what “he” was supposed to feel like. But once his solid bulk cradled in my arms, I knew. And I knew what to name him; surprisingly Donny didn’t object.
I kissed my son and whispered, “Hello, Daniel Michael. I’m your Mommy.”
I shuddered at the thought that months earlier, I might have gone through an abortion. That day God had given me the strength to make the fateful decision not to abort my baby.
This pregnancy was my last, the caboose. I had signed the forms to have my tubes tied. Because I had my babies so close together, the doctor warned me that my uterus might tear in the process. Thank the Lord there weren’t complications.
“You did good, honey,” Donny crooned, patting my hand. “Thank you for my son.”
“Why don’t you thank God?” I retorted.
Later, in my hospital room, the nurse came for Daniel. Donny soon left for the night. Alone, I thought about my household and did the math. Anna Marie, the eldest, was five. Diana and Angela were barely fourteen months apart. My husband was thirty-eight, and I, a frazzled twenty-two-year-old had baby number four.
I contemplated the future. My marriage had been a journey on a long, difficult, and bumpy road. Without the prayers, love, and encouragement from others, we wouldn’t have lasted. I remained hopeful, but rough waters were still ahead . . .

* * *

   I was lost in my thoughts one evening. As I put baby Daniel to bed, I wondered what manner of young man he’d become. Will I spoil him? Cater to his every whim? Or allow him to learn from his mistakes? Will I be able to look him in the eye? Show him right from wrong? Will he become responsible? Loving? Respectable? Will I be able to love him enough to let go?
    I silently prayed for wisdom and pushed a strand of golden-brown hair from Daniel’s forehead. I loved the different shades of light brown in his curly coif. They were so different compared to the black hair of his parents and sisters.
    “His hair . . .” Donny warned, interrupting my thoughts, invading my heart, “had better turn dark.”

A small excerpt from Chapter 33, “Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit & Grace“

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Filed under Memoir

Tagged as aspirations, birth, birthday boy, book excerpt, challenges, dreams, motherhood, personal journey, son

February 22, 2020 · 9:48 PM

Build Me a Son

Dedicated to my precious son. Happy Birthday Daniel. Thank you for being the son described in this beautiful prayer by General Douglas MacArthur. I love you with all my heart!

“Build me a son, O Lord, who will be strong enough to know when he is weak, brave enough to face himself when he is afraid, one who will be proud and unbending in honest defeat, and humble and gentle in victory.

Build me a son whose wishes will not take the place of deeds; a son who will know Thee — and that to know himself is the foundation stone of knowledge.

Lead him, I pray, not in the path of ease and comfort, but under the stress and spur of difficulties and challenges. Here let him learn to stand up in the storm; here let him learn compassion for those who fail …

Build me a son whose heart will be clear, whose goal will be high; a son who will master himself before he seeks to master other men; one who will reach into the future, yet never forget the past.

And after all these things are his, add, I pray, enough of sense of humor, so that he may always be serious, yet never take himself too seriously.

Give him humility, so that he may always remember the simplicity of true greatness, the open mind of true wisdom, and the meekness of true strength.

Then, I, his father [mother], will dare to whisper, ‘I have not lived in vain.’”

What is your prayer for your child? We will probably never achieve the level of accomplishment of General Douglas MacArthur, but when all is said and done, what will make us whisper “I have not lived in vain”.

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Filed under Birthday, son

Tagged as birthday prayer, General Douglas MacArthur, son

February 23, 2018 · 7:13 AM

The Day the Earth Stood Still

https://bible.org/illustration/build-me-son-o-lord

Thoughts …

What is your Father’s or Mother’s Prayer for your children? You’ll probably never achieve the level of accomplishment of General Douglas MacArthur, but when all is said and done, what will make you whisper “I have not lived in vain”?

Reflections From the Heart

“No, not again! Not now!” I cried out in the bathroom. I’ll call Marisa. She’s always been strong. She has it together.

I reached for the phone and dialed her number. When she answered, I blurted, “The test is positive! I’m pregnant.” She’ll lift my spirits.

“Mary . . .” she began. “How in the world will you care for another baby?”

Then again, maybe not.

“What are you going to do?” Marisa squealed.

I thought, If I knew that, I wouldn’t have called you. Wasn’t I the one supposed to get some reassurances, some guidance, some support here?

“I . . . I don’t know, I thought–”

“Mary, what were you thinking?” she shot back. “You can’t possibly have another baby! You’re only twenty-one; you already have three children, and now number four on its way? Your husband drinks too much, he works only when he wants to…

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The Day the Earth Stood Still

“No, not again! Not now!” I cried out in the bathroom. I’ll call Marisa. She’s always been strong. She has it together.

I reached for the phone and dialed her number. When she answered, I blurted, “The test is positive! I’m pregnant.” She’ll lift my spirits.

“Mary . . .” she began. “How in the world will you care for another baby?”

Then again, maybe not.

“What are you going to do?” Marisa squealed.

I thought, If I knew that, I wouldn’t have called you. Wasn’t I the one supposed to get some reassurances, some guidance, some support here?

“I . . . I don’t know, I thought–”

My mind swirled. I hung by a flimsy strand, all hope was slipping. Okay! Tell me something I don’t know. Marisa’s right, whom am I kidding? I. Can’t. Go. On.

Then, she added, “Listen, I’ll help you. If you will get an abortion . . . I will help you pay for one.”

So, that’s it? The quick-fix solution to the problem . . . to end an innocent life?

“I . . . I’ll have to think about this,” I muttered. “Let me sleep on it and get back to you.”

Did that answer come out of me?

I placed the receiver down, heavy with conflicting emotions. My world came to a halt. My heart felt heavy. I cradled my belly, thinking: I can’t have another baby. But can I truly consider this the way out?

The girls slept in their room. Their father was—Lord only knows where. I sat alone in the dark, crossed-legged on the bed. My head ached. My stomach was tied in knots. Overcome with waves of hopelessness, memories churned to the one security blanket I had ever known: the home of my grandparents. And I realized I was sinking. Fast.

What happened to my anchor of faith? My hope? Isn’t God big enough to handle the mess in my life? I have to admit, I’ve been too busy for Him. Now that I need Him, does He still care? Then it occurred to me: If I can’t trust God now, then what’s the point of going on?

That instant I prayed like never before, and pored over my Bible. The Book of Psalms always comforted me, and that night before sleep overtook me, my “Ah hah” moment came after reading Psalm 139:13: For You created my innermost being; You knit me together in my mother’s womb. I wasn’t about to take the life of my unborn child, believing that God gave that life to me.

Come morning. A new day. A fresh start. Resolute in my decision, faith sparked. God had always taken care of me before. I determined to trust Him to carry me now. I believe, Lord. Help my unbelief. Give me the grace to endure…

I reached for the phone and dialed Marisa’s number.

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Mary, think about what—”

“No!” I shouted. “I’m going to walk on and trust God. You knew my convictions. I thought they were yours, too.”

“Mary, I was only trying. . .”

“How?” I interrupted, pacing the floor. “By offering me an abortion? I came to you down and out for encouragement and prayer. I needed to hear ‘hope’ beyond my pain, but you didn’t—you wouldn’t—give me that!”

“Look, Mary, you’re still so young. I’ve been around longer than you. . .”

“You never had children,” I protested.

“I married a jerk once, too. They don’t change.” Marisa went on to give one reason after another about how she was looking out for my best interest.

After long seconds of dead silence and nothing else to say, we hung up.

I thought of a Sunday school lesson about Job, who called his friends miserable comforters. Even his wife told him to “curse God and die.” They were supposed to be his friends, yet those comforters increased his trouble by condemning him.

Marisa and I parted ways. Our friendship ended that day.

Days, weeks, and months overlapped one another; my past troubles were behind me. With my heart overflowing and my eyes drowning in tears, I reached down to kiss my newborn. “Hello, Daniel Michael,” I whispered. “I’m your Mommy.”

**********

Before long, my little curly-lock hair boy is running around with deep brown eyes, touching my heart each time he looks up at me.

The next thing I knew, I blinked, and the little boy was now a strapping young man, and I was gazing up at him!

(An excerpt from Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace)

Note: Please understand I share this story not to condemn, criticize, judge, or belittle anyone who, for whatever reason, may have made a different decision than I did. Everyone has their own story to tell; this is mine. I may have made a lot of mistakes in my life. This was one example when I was strong enough to make the right decision for myself. I believe that strength came as I prayed to my Heavenly Father. While it’s true that I may have my share of regrets in life, not giving birth to my one and only son thirty-six years ago is not one of them.

Happy Birthday, son! I love you with all my heart!

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Filed under Memoir, Pro-Life, Uncategorized

Tagged as abortion, choices, depression, Faith, hopelessness, Job's friends, memoir, personal, Prayer, pregnancy, Pro-Life, son, strength

Video

Isn’t He Beautiful?

Build me a son, O Lord,
who will be strong enough to know when he is weak,
and brave enough to face himself when he is afraid;
one who will be proud and unbending in honest defeat,
and humble and gentle in victory.

Build me a son whose wishbone will not be
where his backbone should be;
a son who will know Thee—and that
to know himself is the foundation stone of knowledge.

Lead him, I pray, not in the path of ease and comfort,
but under the stress and spur of difficulties and challenges.
Here, let him learn to stand up in the storm;
here, let him learn compassion for those who fall.

Build me a son whose heart will be clear, whose goals will be high;
a son who will master himself before he seeks to master other men;
one who will learn to laugh, yet never forget how to weep;
one who will reach into the future, yet never forget the past.

And after all these things are his,
add, I pray, enough of a sense of humor,
so that he may always be serious,
yet never take himself too seriously.

Give him humility, so that he may always remember
the simplicity of true greatness,
the open mind of true wisdom,
the meekness of true strength.

Then I, his father [and mother], will dare to whisper,
“I have not lived in vain.”

~ General Douglas MacArthur

So, we just celebrated my son’s 34th birthday. After asking him what he would like to do or where he would like to go to celebrate, he shared that he simply wanted to be with family and wanted to celebrate at home. Such a humble request, and oh, what a joy in fulfilling that request. Because you see, Mama needed some respite too. We get so caught up in the blowing and going that we can minimize and forget the small stuff. Let’s face it, we are busy people. We can become too focused on counting the days instead of making the days count.

I prepared his favorite meal, lasagna, and Cherry Food Cake for dessert. We visited, laughed, acted like goofballs while entertaining one another (see the video), and took some cool photos. We made more memories to cherish for a lifetime. I treasure each and every heartbeat represented in my family—it is close and very dear to my own heart.

Thank you for allowing me to continually share my journeys with you.

Picture1Collage2

The Day the Earth Stood Still

5 Comments

February 25, 2016 · 7:16 PM

February 26, 2014 · 7:00 AM

The Day the Earth Stood Still

“No, not again! Not now!” I cried out in the bathroom. I’ll call Marisa. She’s always been strong. She has it together.

I reached for the phone and dialed her number. When she answered, I blurted, “The test is positive! I’m pregnant.” She’ll lift my spirits.

“Mary . . .” she began. “How in the world will you care for another baby?”

Then again, maybe not.

“What are you going to do?” Marisa squealed.

I thought, If I knew that, I wouldn’t have called you. Wasn’t I the one supposed to get some reassurances, some guidance, some support here?

“I . . . I don’t know, I thought–”

“Mary, what were you thinking?” she shot back. “You can’t possibly have another baby! You’re only twenty-one; you already have three children, and now number four is on its way? Your husband drinks too much, he works only when he wants to, you have a child with special needs, you guys don’t have enough money . . . !”

My mind swirled. I hung by a flimsy strand, all hope slipping. Okay! Tell me something I don’t know. Marisa’s right, whom am I kidding? I. Can’t. Go. On.

Then, she added, “Listen, I’ll help you. If you will get an abortion . . . I will help you pay for one.”

So, that’s it? The quick-fix solution to the problem . . . to end an innocent life?

“I . . . I’ll have to think about this,” I muttered. “Let me sleep on it and get back to you.”

Did that answer come out of me?

I placed the receiver down, weighed down by conflicting emotions. My world came to a halt. My heart felt heavy. I cradled my belly, thinking: I can’t have another baby. But can I truly consider this the way out?

The girls slept in their room. Their father was—Lord only knows where. I sat alone in the dark, cross-legged on the bed. My head ached. My stomach was tied in knots. Overcome with waves of hopelessness, memories churned to the one security blanket I had ever known: the home of my grandparents. And I realized I was sinking. Fast.

Come morning. A new day. A fresh start. Resolute in my decision, faith sparked. God had always taken care of me before. I am determined to trust Him to carry me now. I believe, Lord. Help my unbelief. Give me the grace to endure…

I reached for the phone and dialed Marisa’s number.

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Mary, think about what—”

“No!” I shouted. “I’m going to walk on and trust God. You knew my convictions. I thought they were yours, too.”

“Mary, I was only trying. . .”

“Look, Mary, you’re still so young. I’ve been around longer than you. . .”

“You never had children,” I protested.

“I married a jerk once, too. They don’t change.” Marisa went on to give one reason after another about how she was looking out for my best interest.

After long seconds of dead silence and nothing else to say, we hung up.

I thought of a lesson in Sunday school about Job, who called his friends miserable comforters, even his wife told him to “curse God and die.” They were supposed to be his friends, yet those comforters increased his trouble by condemning him.

Marisa and I parted ways. Our friendship ended that day.

**********

Before long, my little curly-lock hair boy is running around with deep brown eyes, touching my heart each time he looks up at me.

Next thing I knew I blinked, and the little boy is now a strapping young man and I am gazing up at him.

Note: I share this story not to condemn, criticize, judge, or belittle anyone who may have made a different decision for whatever reason. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. I share my story because this was one time when I was strong enough to make the right decision for me. I believe that strength came as I prayed to my Heavenly Father. I may have my share of regrets in life, but not in giving birth to my one and only son thirty-two years ago.