The Selfishness We Call “Divorce”

It’s both fortunate and unfortunate to me that in my circle of friends and acquaintances I’ve become the “go to” person for questions about divorce, because I’ve been there. People see me as proof that you CAN get through an unthinkably difficult time, and have a peaceful, productive life on the other side of this heart-wrenchingly painful mountain.

In the last week alone, I’ve had 3 different people come to me asking advice on the subject, or wanting to speak with me about mine. One was a sweet friend I’d not seen in a while. She and I used to go to church together, and I subbed for her a few times at Rogersville City School. This kind woman came to me in a sea of people during the Heritage Days festival, gently touched my arm, and quietly said, “I’ve always wanted to tell you how much I admire how you handled things after your divorce. You went to school, got your teaching degree, and just moved right on with life. Some people just shut down. You didn’t.” I felt I owed it to her and myself to be very honest in my response. I replied back, “I had children, and we had to eat. I had no choice, but to move on. There were days I wanted to quit, but I couldn’t. God was faithful to us.”

I want to always give a very truthful and realistic picture of what divorce looked like for me. It would be unfair of me to paint it prettier than it actually was. If a friend has gotten to the point that they have come to me for advice- whether it be the name of my attorney, or just encouraging words about moving ahead in life- I want to be sure that they understand this road is dark, and long, and Satan comes at you from all directions trying to break you down as much as he possibly can. That may look like many things to many different people; but in my case, I was entering a full out war that I had no idea was coming, and I want to help prepare my friend for the battle ahead.

My marriage lasted a total of 10 years. It’s not pertinent to list all of the why’s behind the dissolution of my marriage. It’s personal, and I have children to protect. Let’s just suffice it to say that my home became an unhealthy place for both my children and myself. He and I tried Christian counseling. We talked to pastors, cried at prayer rails, had deep into the night discussions, but one person alone can’t repair a broken marriage. The first thing I tell anyone who comes to me is that divorce was the absolute last resort for me. I tried for years, and behaviors weren’t getting better, if anything, they were getting worse. We had separated and reconciled. That was short lived. It all just became too much.

In January of 2011, my father died. Four months later, while standing at my front door, with a 6-year-old Elijah in my arms, I was served with divorce papers. In an instant I felt my entire world cave in around me. I was a stay-at-home mom at the time, and my first thought became, “How are we going to live?”

If I could freeze that very moment in time, I wish I could have time-traveled back, given that Amanda a big hug, and told her that I’d seen the future, and everything would be fine. Fortunately for me, I had an amazing circle of family and friends who did that for me. They lifted me up when I could barely crawl. Having a personal relationship with the Lord, and having believers to talk to and pray with are TRULY the only things that got me through.

I had a talk with my exhusband just yesterday. It was one of those hour-long talks that we have on occasion. He and I have come miraculously far during this journey over the last 5 years.  What once was a world of restraining orders and unbridled hatred, has with time, evolved into a relationship where we can attend ball games together, and school functions. He will sometimes bring me medicine when I am sick. I’ve even been to dinner with my children, him, and his girlfriend. It was all very Bruce Willis/Demi Moore of us. ūüėä He and I were having a very frank discussion about finances. Both of us feel the financial strains of this divorce.

I can tell you, first hand, what it feels like to live in fear of losing your home. I can tell you what it feels like to be in line at Wal-Mart with a cart full of groceries, and to have your card declined. I can tell you what it’s like to have to call your mother, and ask if you can borrow a few rolls of toilet paper because you are out, and have no money. I can tell you what it’s like to have to humble yourself to go to this same, generous mother and say to her that I’m 2 weeks out from a check, and I have nothing left for me and my children to live on.

I pray anyone reading this never has to go through this. Or, maybe you already have. It’s a very humbling experience. Not one that I’ve shared with many people, but it is the reality of divorce. I came from a marriage where sticking to a budget wasn’t really an issue. There was always plenty. He had a wonderful job. All of that changed in the blink of an eye.

So, I’m a 41-year-old, stay-at-home mom, and I’m going to have to formulate a plan “B” quickly. Who knew I’d ever even need a plan “B”? Certainly not me. My plan was this man, this marriage, these children, and this life. With the serving of one piece of paper that all came to a screeching halt. It was audible.

The next parts are the pieces to the story I want to be sure my friends understand. It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t enjoyable. I certainly wasn’t the model of daily Christian strength that I’d like to proclaim I was. I wasn’t. I fell to pieces initially. I went a little crazy. I did things I wasn’t proud of. My dad was gone, my marriage was over, and my future seemed bleak. God has allowed me throughout my Christian walk with Him to sink down into these valleys of despair at times. There were MANY days that the thought of even getting out of bed was too much. My saving grace in all of this was my children. As much as my soul was beaten down, and I had lost so much of my internal fight, I knew I had to get up each day, and take care of these little ones. Their worlds were being flipped upside down, too. I couldn’t allow myself to forget that while I was busy drowning in self-pity.

The rest of the story is an exercise in faith and hope. God showed me, through continuous prayer, that He had a plan for me. I found a career path that would make me as available to my children as I could possibly be. Teaching. I researched, and found a 16-month program at Tusculum College which allowed me to take classes in the evenings and on weekends. I met some of the most wonderful people I’d ever known in this program, and I know God positioned them in the same program, at this exact time, so we could be in one another’s lives. My family helped me with childcare, so I could attend classes. My exhusband even helped out on weekends. I was able to graduate the Master’s program with honors. I now had my teaching certification. Fast-forward on a few month, and many interviews/applications later, and I was blessed to be given a job at Hawkins Elementary School teaching my own 5th grade class! The call came 9 days before the 2015-2016 school year began. I was crying so hard when I received the call from the principal of the school, that I wasn’t even sure he could hear me saying, “YES!” through all of the sobbing.

What I learned in my experience is that divorce is the ultimate act of selfishness. Whether it be one or both parties. At some point in the marriage, someone (or you both), decide that your own needs become greater and more important than the needs of your family. What this experience did to my own children was heartbreaking to watch. My job was to love and protect them during their time on this earth. Now, because their father and I couldn’t be responsible enough to work out our own issues, these innocent little ones are thrown into a life change that they never asked for. My children are products of a broken home. The guilt that comes with that is immeasurable, and impossible to adequately verbalized. It’s daily. The only comfort I take is that I know that while our HOME may have been broken, I know they saw a mother who ultimately was NOT, and who gives all the glory to God for her strength.

I encourage my friends to have a realistic view of what is about to happen if they choose this path. It’s not “divorce parties” and freedom like some women like to imagine. (Actually, that may not be 100% true. There are people who do have their big divorce parties, but I just think that’s further outward evidence of what selfish creatures we’ve allowed ourselves to become. The destruction of a family is NOTHING to be celebrated) It’s one of the biggest doses of reality you’ll ever have. It’s excruciating to watch your babies go through. It’s an admission of failure. Divorce, and the death of my father, are hands down the most difficult life moments I’ve had.

The moral to my story is that God was faithful. He was strong when I was weak. It’s not an easy road, and it’s certainly not something I eagerly encourage anyone to do. Divorce goes against my own spiritual beliefs. That’s another blog in itself. I’ll save it for a different day. While I don’t want to be an advocate for divorce, I do want to offer hope to those going through it. There is life on the other side. It takes work. It takes an admission that you can’t do it alone, and it takes a willingness to be quiet, and listen to that sometimes soft voice of God. He won’t fail you. When you’ve lost your faith in love, He is the one relationship you can count on to be everlasting.



Just Exhausted

For the last few years especially, I find myself getting more and more tired throughout my day. I don’t mean the normal end of the day tired we are all supposed to feel to signal us that bedtime is near; but rather a straight outta bed, didn’t sleep worth a hoot, it’s only 10 a.m. and I want to crawl under my desk and take a nap kind of tired. I have a friend who brought this to my attention the other day when we were talking and she said, “If I had a dollar for every time you used the word, ‘exhausted’!” She’s right. I’ll bet I say it 10 times a week.

If you are my mother, the first thing you’ll think is- you really should go see a doctor. Have your thyroid checked. Did that. All kinds of blood work. Everything good in the medical department.

You may then think I should go to bed earlier. Did that. It matters not if my bedtime is 11 p.m., or if it’s 8 p.m. Same thing, sleepless nights. It’s become commonplace that I’ll wake sometime around 3 a.m. then have to spend another hour falling back to sleep. It’s so frustrating. 

I’m hearing lately that this same situation is happening with the majority of my friends. So, I’ve really stopped to think about the “why” in all of this. Why are we all so spent, and burnt out before our day has ended? I realize I’m getting older (46 now), but surely my brain/body should be able to make it a full 16 hours of awake time without me wanting to find random closets to sneak into and create a makeshift pallet for a quick snooze.

My answer came when talking to a friend’s husband last night. He was talking to me (with her present) about how he feels their marriage is suffering, because there is so little quality time they get to spend as husband and wife- just having some sweet “courting” moments. He said, “By the end of the day when we are finally home from work, there’s still work to do around the house or errands to run.” Then he said my word, “We are just EXHAUSTED.” Seems the whole world is. 

It’s understandable that most of us may feel exhausted during our day. Life isn’t always easy. We are making decisions from the moment our feet hit the floor in the morning. We start with simply deciding to get up, deciding what we will wear to work/school/for the day, then we decide what we are feeding everyone before all head out the door. If you work, your day is full of more decision making. Our brains have to be in the “on” position, so we can do the best work we possibly can. Situations at work rise up which are beyond our control, and this can often times add extra pressure to our day. If you’re a stay at home mom, as I was for many years, the decision making and the problem solving doesn’t seem to ever stop. I’d rank being a stay at home mom as more physically and mentally taxing that any other job I’ve ever had. Caring for your children is an exceptional task when done correctly. By that, I mean it’s much more than plopping a kid down in front of a tv, and handing them a box of Pop Tarts. So, whether working a job away from home or at home, we all have tremendous demand placed on us daily.

And friends, we’ve not even touched on the daily external pressure we have from the great big world out there. There are financial issues we deal with daily. Some moreso than others. Speaking as a person with firsthand knowledge of this subject, this topic alone can be enough to set your brain into overdrive and panic. There are world events that we get bombarded with every day. A war here, a flood there, and this blasted election. All of these news reports, television shows, newspapers, and online information can literally overwhelm our systems, not to mention what it does for our morale. 

We have relationship issues. It may be with a spouse, a significant other, your parents, your children, your friends, or your coworkers. In bumpy relationship times, these circumstances just keep adding to our already very stressed out and overly full plates. 

I’m sure I’ve not covered all possible scenarios, but I’m trying to paint a picture for you that it’s no wonder that some (most) of us feel tired and mentally/physically taxed.

Well, I’m not one to sit by and “woah is me”myself into the ground, so I’m coming up with a plan. My first plan is this, I’m going to have to except that life isn’t always going to be a smooth ride. Some fortunate people in this life just seem to have an easier time than others. I used to question why in a world of people whose lives seem to go so perfectly (at least from outward appearances), why mine always seemed to be one that had many twists and turns. I questioned myself, and my relationship with God. Was I being punished for something? Was this just my fate in life? Then it occurred to me, most of the major players from the Bible were people who had trials and tribulations in their lives. David didn’t have an easy road, but look at what God did through him. Look at Noah, Abraham, the disciples, heck, start all the way at the beginning with Adam. Each of them were challenged and went on through faith to accomplish things beyond their wildest imaginations. I personally believe that if God has big plans for you in this lifetime, Satan is going to come at you with everything he’s got to derail those plans. I also know that where we end up in life is a result of choices we make. Very little drives me crazier than an adult who wants to sit and “poor me” about life, and has no intention of doing anything to improve their situation. As a matter of fact, it bothers me so much that this topic only gets two sentences from me.

My second plan is to take these sleepless moments during my nighttime, and start talking to God during them. We all have different relationships with God. I have cultivated during the years, through much prayer, a relationship where I speak with Him just as if He were sitting on the couch beside me. Don’t be afraid of prayer. It is simply our way of communicating with the Father. Your words don’t have to be flowery and rhyming when talking to Him. Make it conversational. I have a running dialogue with Jesus throughout my day. It just stops and starts whenever it needs to. 

Several years ago, I had a friend who became extremely ill very suddenly. I had such a burden for her. For a solid week, I was awoken every night at 3 for an “inexplicable” reason. Well, I quickly realized that I needed to pay attention to these quiet signals. I felt as if God was wanting to tell me something. I listened. The next night this happened, I just sat right up and said, “Okay, God, I’m listening, tell me what I need to hear.” The craziest thing?…. He DID! It was out of these late night chats with Him that a country-wide prayer group was formed, which has now grown into Church Without Walls on Facebook. Out of these chats, and the obedience of hundreds of people, I got to witness firsthand God do a miracle in her life, and pull her up from near-certain death. Another perk for me which came from this- from just obeying- I had a covering of the Holy Spirit in my life that I can hardly put into words. I felt a closeness with Him that’s I’d never experienced… maybe since when I became a new Christian. It felt like Jesus had dumped a bucket of the Holy Spirit over me, and I was drenched in it. I’ve never known a peace or a fulfillment like that. I, for that time, was waking in obedience in the fullness of what God had for me, and it was other-worldly. I’m sure there is no fix, or drug, or any other vice which could have come close to a fraction of the unbridled joy I felt during this time. So, talk to Him when you can’t sleep. You have to take that a step further, though. You have to prepare yourself for whatever task it is that He may set before you. Sometimes I think He asks things of us just to see if we will obey. Let’s be up to that challenge. 

Finally, my last plan is to prioritize those things which must be done immediately, and recognize those things which can wait. We, as humans, can’t do it all in one day. We can’t fix everything, buy everything, be everywhere, attend everything, and complete every task in one day. When we try is when we end up like a character from “The Walking Dead”, and then ask the question why life is so hard. There’s an expression that says, “We make time for what is important.” I’m a firm believer in this statement. You can’t put your human relationships on the back burner because you’re so busy, and then be surprised when these relationships start to deteriorate. You can’t spend every moment of your day taking care of the rest of the world, but not carve out a little time to take care of yourself. I think that’s what most of us are guilty of doing.

I want to offer encouragement today. Let’s take the time to make a conscious choice to slow down a little today, take some time to take care of ourselves, and most importantly, make ourselves still enough that we can be obedient and listen to that often quiet voice of God, and find out what He’s trying to say to each of us. 

Blessing to you. 

Ten Lessons I Learned as a First Year Teacher

As a latecomer into the arena of teaching, I was nervous that I may not have the stamina nor the ability to keep twenty 5th grade students entertained long enough to be educated. Fortunately, for them (and for me), not only did I realize that I did, but I also learned several other undeniable truths for myself that I’d like to share. These are not necessarily listed in order of importance:

1. From the moment I decided that teaching would be my occupation, I have never since walked into a store- any type of store- without trying to figure out a way to use every single piece of merchandise they carry as an educational tool. I don’t have to explain any further, because if you’re a teacher you already know. (Can I get an, “Amen!”?) Oh, look! A box of hair color!!! We could use this in science to discuss the chemical properties, or in reading to compare and contrast how premature graying makes you feel old in comparison to feeling like yourself with this Clairol Natural Instincts 28 Nutmeg Dark Brown! Oh, wait! Look! A hacksaw!

2. Anytime it was scheduled to be my turn for “breakfast duty” it would most certainly be a syrup day. ūüėĎ

3.  The first 2 weeks of school took me to a level of tired I hadn’t experienced since I had newborns. Each afternoon I would come home, and within about 30 minutes of sitting on a couch, it was over. Finished. Done. …..zzzzzz

4. I think I may have gotten an average of 4-5 hours of sleep per night those first few months of school. My brain would not turn off the worrying about what all needed to be done the next day, and would not stop making several thousand mental lists of all the things I wanted to be sure NOT to forget. 

5. This one goes hand in hand with my inability to sleep for fear of forgetting something. Unfortunately, once my body did finally succumb to incomparable exhaustion, I would wake every hour on the hour out of sheer terror of sleeping through my alarm. 

6. While using a Promethean Board, or a Smartboard, one should quickly familiarize themselves with the “freeze” button.  This button allows you to freeze the screen, so that your work emails and other personal information from your computer desktop won’t be projected onto your screen in IMAX style for 20 curious little sets of eyes to see. (The stories I could tell…)

7. I remembering being so nervous my first day that I thought I would physically be sick. Those little bodies come strolling into the classroom, and find their seats. They are quiet and timid, and little did they know, I was also a nervous wreck! It got better after I leveled with them, and told them that I understood exactly how they felt. We played some fun icebreaker games, and just like that, the fear started to disappear.

8. Teachers are a special classification of people who have evolved into super-human creature which can go DAYS without having to take a bathroom break. If you are fortunate like I am, and have an assistant who can help out, this isn’t really an issue. If you do not, may I suggest stocking up on cranberry juice and AZO Standard. 

9. The teachers I work with on our fifth grade hall are outstanding women. I would have never been able to get through the first year without their constant support and encouragement. You have to work as a team. You have to be a team player. If our ultimate goal is the success of our students, it is imperative that we all work together. There isn’t time for dissention among the troops. Division is shallow, catty, and frankly, does a disservice to our students. 

10. I had no idea that these 20 little strangers in a time span of 180 days could grab onto my heart like they did. I loved them. All of them. Even those who are “hard” to love. You know who I mean, the really challenging ones. Truth is, I probably even loved them a tiny bit more. Children can’t help what their home life is like. If mom and dad (if there even IS a mom and dad in the pic), if mom and dad don’t care, how can we get frustrated with a student who doesn’t care? We have to love them more. Teach them more. Show them patience more. They can come around. I’ve seen it. 

My first year of teaching is behind me, and I’m entering into my second year. I can’t wait to teach these little people, and to see what all they teach me. Have a good school year, friends.

Blurred Lines

Shades of gray…

A little black, a little white.

Not quite enough yet to call it what it is. What you hope it will be.

Thin stripes of hope, a sliver of promise is enough to keep moving ahead. Should it be?

Blurred lines I keep tracing purposefully with my finger

Remind me

Of a perfect moment for me and you.


It’s Time

*** I’m revisiting this blog after a four or five year absence. Just posting some things I started, but never finished. I’ve finished them now. ūüėä “I haven’t see you in forever,” is a comment I’ve heard no less than a million times in the last year and a half.¬† I’ve not disappeared, and I’ve not moved to another country.¬† What I have been doing is working diligently on getting my Master of Arts in Teaching degree from Tusculum College, so that I may pursue a career in education.¬† Look, I have proof…

amandaThat’s me on the left.¬† Sixteen months older, wiser, and much more tired.¬† I’m thrilled that I had this experience.¬† I made lifelong friends during this journey.¬† Vicki is in the middle, and Charity is on the far right.¬† These girls were my crew during my time back into the college world, as a 40-something year old woman. What a true blessing they were (and still are). My, my how different college is the second time around! ¬†No longer the girl who chose to take a month-long sabbatical from music appreciation because I could no longer stand to listen to even just ONE MORE classical music piece. I’m now the student who approached the teacher immediately to find out just exactly why my grade was a 99 instead of a 100. I graduated with honors, and I worked my hiney off to get there.

Probably my three proudest moments in life- having children, surviving and growing through the loss of my father, and not crumbling to piece after a failed marriage; but rather, going back to school for my teaching certification and master’s degree when life forced me to choose plan B. It’s gonna be a good life. God has a purpose for all of this. I’m eager to live it. Live yours to, friend.


*** I found this blog hidden away in my “drafts” folder.¬† I wrote it on August 16, 2011- just over five years ago.¬† There are things I could add to this, but for now I just want to leave it as is.¬† I’m sure I will revisit it in the future.¬† Excuse the “personal-ness” of this particular publishing.¬† It is, however, my blog…

Sorry for where we’ve found ourselves.¬† Who would have thought?

Sorry that when we said “for better or worse” we had no idea how much the worse would outweigh the better.

Sorry that I didn’t listen to that little voice inside.

Sorry that I’ve only been able to tolerate eight years of hurt.

Sorry I’m not stronger… or weaker…¬†whichever you needed me to be.

Sorry that you felt justified to subject innocent ones.

Sorry that I allowed them to see and hear.

Sorry that you feel vindication when you steal and withhold from me.

Sorry that it isn’t only me you hurt and you’re too oblivious to see.

Sorry that one day when little ones grow up they will already have you figured out.

Sorry that after they’ve learned the truth and look¬†to me for explanation¬†I’ll just shake my head and say one word….


Father’s Day

This is not one of my favorite holidays anymore.¬† I’m assuming that anyone else who has lost their father probably feels the same.¬† I think it’s a wonderful idea to set aside a day to celebrate the man who helped to create you and traveled with you through your life, but when that man is no longer here it¬†brings a little tinge of sadness, a¬†reminder of that absence in your heart.

Today, however, instead of feeling sad and sorry for myself, I’m going to try to focus on all of the happy times I can remember having with my dad.¬† My dad’s name was Arthur Clair Elder, III.¬† Yes, it was a big name for a man with a big heart.¬† Since he was a third, a triple, he was always called “Tripp”.¬† The “Clair” portion of the name is a family name that was handed down through the generations, and while it is a name most commonly reserved for women (at least in my experience), there was a certain coolness to the unusualness of the name being used for a man.¬† Clair is my own middle name, my daughter Ava’s middle name, my niece Emma’s middle name, and even our college friend Susan liked it so¬†much that she used it as the middle name for her daughter Isabella.¬† The legacy continues in some¬†very sweet and feisty gals.

When I think back about my childhood and about how insanely blessed Jessica and I were to have had this man as our father there are several things that stand out.¬† First, our father was always talking to us and with us.¬† He was a very present figure in our household.¬† Tripp Elder didn’t just phone in his fatherly duties.¬† He was hands on.¬† Living in a house with my mother, myself, and Jessica you can imagine that my dad didn’t have very much opportunity to talk.¬† We can be a vocal group, the Elder women, but when Tripp did speak we quietened up to listen because we knew whatever was going to come out of that mouth of his would be important.

My dad was very funny.¬† I don’t know if people on the outside knew that, but those who were closest to him most certainly did.¬† He had a dry sense of humor and often times was funny even when I’m not sure that he knew he was being funny.¬† There were several inside jokes we had¬†with him and we used them for years, up until his death actually.¬† Some of our family quotes (without revealing all the background) were “Blah, blah, blah cut to the chase” and during a time after continually asking me and Jessica to complete a chore in our teens and we continually ignoring him and continuing watching television the infamous¬†“Happy Days can WAIT!”¬†phrase made its way into our family quotes.

My dad took us to church and showed us in his daily life what a Christian man looks like as a father.¬† I couldn’t have asked for a better example.¬† He and my mother both read to us from the Bible.¬† He worked on staff at our church, so we were there constantly.¬† He was a man who truly practiced what he preached.¬† I would quietly (unknowingly back then) observe him with my mother and I saw, even at a young age, what a Godly marriage should look like.¬† This man ADORED my mother.¬† He held her hand throughout their lifetime together.¬† He held open doors for her.¬† He was sweet and attentive.¬† He was to all of us.¬† Jessica and I knew that he cared about us and our lives from what we wore, to who we ran around with, to the boys that we dated.¬† Dad was a very present figure in those decisions.¬† Growing up in the Elder household Jessica and I had a pretty clear sense of what was acceptable behavior and what was not.¬† I’ll always remember that the one item of clothing I begged him to let me wear/buy was a bustier-style top like I’d seen on television.¬† I was probably 16 at the time.¬† On that item Tripp was a definite NO!¬† I think I eventually did buy such a shirt when I was probably 22 and with my own money and when I was living in my own place.¬† It wasn’t nearly as satisfying of a purchase as I thought it would be.¬† Rebellion delayed by 6 years sort of loses its excitement.¬†ūüôā

My dad was not a perfect man, but he was awfully darn close in my eyes.¬† I truly could not have asked for a more loving, caring father.¬† He provided for our needs.¬† We never had too much or too little, but we always had what we needed.¬† When he was finally diagnosed with his condition I remember vividly standing in the shower of my old house and wailing out to God to please not take this man.¬† I needed his covering and love and influence in my life.¬† I had a feeling in my stomach like I’d never before experienced.¬† A desperation that made me physically ill each time I thought of it.¬† It was unthinkable to imagine this very-much-alive father of mine just one day not being here.¬† Some of you traveled that long and winding journey with us, and I’m so thankful for the prayers and support we received lifting us all up.¬† There is no doubt in my mind that those prayers were the only things carrying us through that fog.¬† My father was a gracious man.¬† A humble man.¬† A gentle man- in every sense of the word.¬† I love him.¬† I miss him.¬† I think of him daily.¬† I’m so thankful that he’s well, but even now three years later and rather selfishly (I guess) I wish he was still with us.¬† My father was the only person who called me “Manda”.¬† I’d give all the money I had just to hear him say it one more time.

My children still talk about “Papa”.¬† I’m so thankful they remember him.¬† Eli talks often about him playing chase with them around the coffee table in the living room.¬† He won’t ever be forgotten.¬† He set the bar high for all other fathers out there.¬† Not everyone was as fortunate as I to have had such a wonderful daddy.¬† In those cases, I suppose, we have to remember that our ultimate Father, God, is watching over us and has our best interest at heart.¬† He is who you should go to for support and love.¬† I’m just so blessed that I got to see that love and caring mirrored through the eyes of Arthur Clair Elder, III.



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