I was born into a family of 9 children. Yes, nine. I’m perched right in the middle, four older siblings and four younger siblings. I like my perch. 🙂 I’ve been the crazy black sheep and I’ve been the voice of reason…..depends on who you ask. Times were often hard when we were growing up, and how my poor mother kept us fed and clothed I’ll never know. Well, she kept most of us clothed. Two of my sisters were infamous for running around in their “under-things.” But you can’t blame my Mother, by the time those two little razzleflabbins came around her arms had become useless from years of spanking the other seven of us. 🙂 My father chose his own interesting path, one that made him the father of nine, and yet somehow allowed him to experience the world of a responsibility-free single man. His life path wound precariously in and out of ours until nine years ago when my Mother and we five youngest off-spring moved from one hick town to a slightly more en-lightened hick town and began our lives all over again. Its hard to remember who I was 9 years ago, its hard to remember feeling that lost. So here I am in Lancaster County…..learning to thrive amongst the manure-splattered fields of corn and tobacco. I met my husband here and we’ve been married three years. He’s everything I had no idea I needed.
I’m interested in so many things that sometimes its hard to focus on one. Besides worshiping my Creator, endeavoring to be a great wife, and dreaming of someday being an unforgettable mother and many other things, I know, I know that I must write my family’s story. If I get to the end of my life and I haven’t done it will be one of my greatest regrets and I shall feel like a very great failure.