Quotes About Family

Llevamos a quienes perdemos en nuestro corazón.

Anna, more than anyone else, loved Elsa's gift, and she begged her to use it often. Their parents, on the other hand, wanted her to keep it private. But if a gift like this could bring such joy, shouldn't she share it? Besides, she loved impressing her sister.

Instead, she curled up into ball and stared at the pink wallpaper where a potrait of her as a child stared back at her.That girl was smiling and happy.She had a family. Now she had none.

Good news: most people are surprisingly respectful with boundaries. Folks take a no better than I suspected. When I say, "Thank you for inviting me into this good thing of yours. It is as extraordinary as you are. But any new yes I give means a no to my family and sanity. Please accept my sincere regrets and count on my prayers," most people are amazing. You can say no, and no one will die.

Ironically, we practically have to be sainted to get through the adoption process, but any fool can spawn and have a baby, tra la la.

Ah, marriage. The kind of union we have affects our children infinitely more than the schools we put them in, the activities we sign them up for, or the church we take them to. Our kids are learning relational habits by osmosis, and statistics say they'll likely imitate what they witness at home.

Thank you, 4:00 p.m., for being the time of day that thoroughly confuses me: post-homework and pre-dinner. I am already exhausted and fairly irritable. The children are losing their ever-loving minds, and husband is still tucked away in his sane office with all mental faculties intact and won't answer my SOS texts to hurry and come home or their blood is on your hands. Do I make a coffee? Or pour a glass of wine? Yours, Witching-Hour Survivor.

There is nothing more meaningful, life-giving, or lovely than home

Thank you for inviting me into this good thing of yours. It is as extraordinary as you are. But any new yes I give means a no to my family and sanity. Please accept my sincere regrets and count on my prayers,

She works hard because she has to. She isn't attempting to discern an elusive calling. She is raising her babies, working for a living, doing the best she can with what she has. Her purpose may not venture outside the walls of her home. We will never know her name. She probably won't step into leadership or innovation or advocacy or social revolution. Yet she is also worthy of the calling she has received.

At family gatherings where you suddenly feel homicidal or suicidal, remember that in half of all cases, it's a miracle that this annoying person even lived. Earth is Forgiveness School. You might as well start at the dinner table. That way, you can do this work in comfortable pants.1 — ANNE LAMOTT

Except for a year or two in my parenting tenure, I've always been a working mom. Sometimes part time, sometimes from home, sometimes full time, but always working. With five kids, this means putting my head down and handling it while they are at school.

My mom went back to college when she had four kids in high school, middle school, and elementary school, and it has always been a source of pride for me. She was a teacher in her heart and needed the degree to match, so she chased the dream long before it was convenient or well-timed or easy. Yes, she fell off the oat bran wagon (kindly recall 1990) and we got store-bought prom dresses, but we watched her fly. It never occurred to us to settle for less.

Jesus created a motley crew, plucking us from every context and inaugurating a piecemeal clan that has only ever functioned with mercy. We should be grabbing hands, throwing our heads back, and laughing that God saved us all, because surely this is the messiest family ever and He loves us anyway. Our shared redemption should keep us grateful and kind, because what other response even makes sense?

Because no one told me not to, I had a baby every two years, and it was truly the Mother Load.

Our kids need spiritual mentors, and if a new language and posture will lead them, then we better hit our knees, pray for humility, and beg God to help us raise disciples that love Him beyond our homes. We prioritize transformation over methodology, because our rules have a shelf life but loyalty to Jesus does not. Let's keep the baby and change the bathwater.

I don't know your feelings about church, but what if you freed up your pastors to be ordinary men and women, your church to be a simple family, and your life to be for loving God and people?

Mostly good is enough. Mostly good produces healthy kids who know they are valued and either forget the other parts or turn them into funny stories.

The middle place still has a lot of life left, so we'll store up these years like a treasure, remembering them one day just as fondly as the first phase of our family when we were dirty kids drinking water out of the backyard hose.

As I examine my life through this book, I can't help but wonder if my mother was right. Maybe I really was what I ate. And maybe if she'd let me eat a little more sugar, I'd have come out sweeter.

For the record? I have never been her baby. In fact, I reject the notion of coming out of her body. I prefer to believe I was hatched, or perhaps purchased.

All this is to say that it's not your fault that you're fucked up. It's your fault if you stay fucked up, but the foundation of your fuckedupedness is something that's been passed down through generations of your family, like a coat of arms or a killer cornbread recipe, or in my case, equating confrontation with heart failure. When

She held tight to her Why. She wanted the money and success for the freedom it gave her, to take care of her family, to prove to herself that she could do it.

but the foundation of your fuckedupedness is something that's been passed down through generations of your family, like a coat of arms or a killer cornbread recipe, or in my case, equating confrontation with heart failure.