The promise for Lazarus

It has been three weeks since Philip passed away. One of the hardest challenges now is finding the answer to the question "How are you?". Honestly, if I said I'm fine, it would be a lie really. And if I said I'm not, it will leave both of us (you more so) in a very awkward position. So I'm often quiet when I get that question, to which they will ask the poor mister how I am. 

But in case you still wonder if I am fine, I am fine enough to run the household, to still look pretty (ownself say ownself), to eat my meals and even laugh too. But no, I am not okay yet, which I had learnt just within weeks of P's death, that this grieving may continue till the day I die. Meeting up with more than 2 people (me included) may make me feel anxious. Even doing routine things I did before P's birth, feels different and empty. Almost everyday, there will be moments where I sit down and wallow in the void and just cry.

In short, my days are basically grouped into two - a bad day with some good moments or a good day with many bad moments.

It didn't help that it was my birthday a few days back (which left most of my friends in an awkward position whether to wish me a happy birthday or not). So just within weeks of sharing Philip's passing, my Facebook wall came to live once again with friends wishing me a Happy Birthday. My phone would buzz every few minutes with greetings from friends far and near. I would usually have acknowledged the greeting and just indulge in the attention given for that day. This year though, I just kept quiet.

The greetings I received from my Facebook were left unread, the messages I got from my phone were left unanswered. I was not interested in any of the messages related to my birthday. So yes, I had chosen misery over joy on my birthday. Or rather I didn't allow myself to find joy. After all, since Philip (whom I named after the patron saints of joy and hope) is gone, where is my joy and hope now?

I remembered when Philip was dying, I had asked a wise priest before if God had thought if I was going to screw up and that's why He took Philip away. But that priest reminded me that it will be an insult to God for He who is generous in His love, doesn't give only to see us fail. 

On the night after Philip's first surgery, I was somehow prompted to read the passage on the raising of Lazarus. And because I hardly have any inspirations to read the Bible, I thought it was God telling me that Philip would be okay, even if the odds seemed bad. But Philip died and there's no way now that P will come back to life (especially when his remains are really in an urn). Then why give such hope, I asked. 

Unfortunately or otherwise, hope is often used as synonyms as desire or wish. My wish was that Philip would be here with me but that isn't the hope that God had promised me from the beginning. God just told me to hold on to the truth that He won't fail. 

For He who knows the agony of hoping against all odds that things could change, will understand the depth of grief when they didn't.

And for He who chose the most painful human experience to sacrifice His Son for my salvation, will also weep when mine died. 

And for He who knows how much I can and will love my son, knows that that is only a fraction of how much He already loves me.

That has been the Hope that was promised to me since Day 1.

We managed to do a small
celebration for IZ

It is unfortunate that henceforth my birthday month will always remind me of P's passing (which means I won't know if I would acknowledge next year's greetings. Actually, anything in any day will do so too). Whilst birthdays focuses on the person, I chose then to focus on the pain since it was very much of me now. The "Happy" in Happy Birthday (and no.. the word "Blessed" also won't make a difference) seems to be ironic since I am far from that.

But birthdays, as the very wise priest pointed out, serve as a reminder that God hasn't forgotten about me and has spent is still spending time on me to work on me. (Such wisdom... What am I to do when this priest passes on?!?!) And a birthday should not be the only day we celebrate and remember that fact, but the evil one is always trying to tell me otherwise.  

In all tombs, including the one which Lazarus laid, life stopped. Truth be told, though not physically, a part of my heart had died and I had retreated to a tomb when P left me. While it may not be today or tomorrow, the Hope I have been assured of, promised me that it will resurrect one day. Many have told me before that with time, things will get better. I may be wrong, but time doesn't make the hurt go away. It will however, teach me lessons to put my hope and joy on the giver rather than on His gifts and patience to continue to wait in awe for that something great that is waiting to happen.

As for now, allow Jesus to sit with this "Lazarus" in the tomb to weep and to pray together with. 

Dear Philip... With Love - Dad

How does one even begin to fathom what we have been through? Any parent who has lost a child will tell you their heart breaks 100%, even if they have other children.

How can we even begin to understand what suffering is? I am sure by now you would have known all the technical details about what Philip had to go through.

In suffering, there are two ways we can respond. We can always be inward looking and wallow in self-pity and despair; or we can choose to be life-giving, be outward looking and offer up our sufferings in exchange for graces for others who are hurting.

A wise priest once told Michelle and I that the strongest and most powerful prayers come from those who are hurting. Contrary to popular belief, we are not strong, like many of you claim us to be. We are just as weak, we cry uncontrollably and we often feel like we cannot carry on.
But it is when we are weakest and most helpless that we offer ourselves up to God to let him take over and direct our lives.

Instead of wallowing in self pity, we channel our energy to pray for that couple we know who are undergoing chemotherapy, that couple who have marital problems and are always quarrelling, that dear friend of ours who just had a bypass or a heart stent, that dear friend who is angry with God and doesn’t want anything to do with God anymore, our friends and family who are having some trouble with their work, their family problems or are in depression. It is not easy, but somehow it gets better when you pray for them and you know that God will make a difference in their lives.

We want to thank some people who have been on this difficult journey with us. Our dearest parents, who have been our pillars of strength to help us hold the fort at home and take care of our four kids.
Our helpers who also without complaining help to take care of the home and our children when we are away.

Philip’s godparents, Nick and Noeline and their beautiful family. We know you love him as much as we do, and pain must be like a sword that cuts through your hearts. My godson Daryl for helping me with all the behind the scene work.

Leo and Olivia who have been our pillars of emotional strength. Khay Guan, thank you for arranging all the medical stuff for me at NUH, going out of your way to connect us so that we could give Philip the best fighting chance he had. Dr Miriam, the only oncologist who believed in us. Brian and Coni, Fr JP, Fr Jude, Shawn and Petrina, Andrew and Pam and Mrs Tan, Elaine and Eugene, Le Peng and Barrie, who journeyed with us and made it a little more bearable along the way. Felicia and Terry, Daniel Ong, Kelvin and Yvonne, Mark and Noelle, our pillars of strength and dependability. Lilly and Steven and Fr Aloy for always keeping us in prayer.

Bernard and Ying, thank you for that initial conversation we had which totally changed our perspective of suffering from an inward looking one to a life-giving mentality. Your unshakable faith is the only reason we are here surviving today!

Last but not least, the very wise priest Msgr Ambrose Vaz. Thank you for listening to me and journeying with us. I reckon I still believe in God only because of what you said. It is always easy to get what you want, it takes great faith to want what you get, because God is the author of life and he has a greater plan for us all, even though we do not understand it at this moment in time.

Philip was named after the patron saint of joy, St Philip Neri. He was meant for great things, to bring joy to the people he met. I believe he had that charming effect on people and brought joy to all who interacted with him.

Philip is by far the bravest boy I’ve ever met! I have never met such a small boy who had to undergo two 5 hour surgeries, come out of it and still try his best to smile for you because he is genuinely happy to see you. His smile would melt a thousand hearts.

Today and henceforth I want you all to remember him as the happy baby whom you have met. It may be our physical loss that we can no longer hold and cuddle him, but it is for the greater good of all of you that we now have an angel in heaven who can help to convey your hurts and joys, your desires and your prayers to the Almighty one who is with Philip in heaven now.

My dearest darling boy, you did it. You beat us all to heaven. You are the best athlete I know. Now that you are with God, remember to intercede for us in our prayers. Remember to pray for your mummy and me and your siblings. Keep us on the straight and narrow path so that we will be able to be reunited again with you one day in heaven.

Meanwhile have fun exploring heaven with so many of your friends who are already there, while we on earth who have lost a child seek comfort in each other and hold on to the promise of a reunion in heaven when we eventually finish our race on earth.

Till we meet again, Philip

Two months ago, we discovered a lump in Philip's abdomen. Initially the doctors thought that it was the typical Wilm's tumor and assured us that his chance for recovery would be 98%.

Unfortunately, when they removed it, they found it to be a rare and malignant tumor called Rabdhoid Tumor. They had measured it to be 10cm long and told us then that we were looking at a 20-40% chance of success with chemotherapy and radiotherapy.

The next day they did a full body scan and found another 1cm tumor next to his brain stem. He needed to undergo another surgery two weeks later to remove that tumor but now his chance of success with chemotherapy would drop to 8% or less.

Just after 3 weeks from the second surgery, we felt another lump at his back. We went back to the Doctors and the ultrasound scan showed that the 10cm tumor which we had removed had returned and grown to 5cm. The scan also showed that the cancer has now spread to his liver. A week ago, Philip woke up coughing and wheezing in the middle of the night and we rushed him down to the hospital. They did a chest x-ray and found a 2.5cm tumor in his left lung.

I have thus far mentioned only all the bad news. Where is the Good news in all this then? For one, from now on, no one will dare to ask us if we are going to have another baby. (And yes after 5 kids, they still ask us to try for more kids.... I also don't know why)

But more importantly, the good news which I had learnt were all inspired by Philip.

After his first surgery, Philip needed to take medications orally. Not all of them tasted nice, but Philip would obediently take them whenever it is time. The teenager boy opposite him on the other hand would refuse his medication and just take them when he decides them to. Growing up makes us more independent but with that we choose to be our own God. We decide it's our time, our way and our life, we tell others that we don't need their help and with the little that we know, we put others down and refuse to listen to them.

Philip didn't. He didn't understand what was going on, but he just did what he was asked to do whether he liked it or not.

Philip did suffer the last two months. With each major surgery that he went through, he came out from the operating theatre with many tubes, needed to be suctioned at times and at many times, he needed to be poked. But when he had recovered and had felt better, he was ever ready to offer a smile even to the same nurse who had poked him not long ago.
Philip had put us adults to shame. When we had to go through something bad, we always choose to hang on to the pain. It was as if that pain was our justification to remain angry, to get another person's pity and attention and to make their lives miserable. Philip moved on, he cried when he was in pain, but he smiled too when things have improved. We, on the other hand, choose stay upset and cling on to our pains even when there was a reason to smile.

Make no mistake, Philip had really wanted to hang around and stay with us. Even at his deathbed, when his pulse slipped to 20, he had tried to climb it back to 120 twice before he gave up. Growing up screws us up real bad. We see the world with negativity and lose the meaning in life. We choose to give up and think that life can only be better if and when we go to the next world. While there was nothing wrong with heaven, Philip didn't see anything wrong being on earth. And honestly, what is so wrong and bad being here?

Philip had some difficulties peeing and pooping the last few days before his death. We were praying very hard and even encouraged him to pee at least, so that his abdomen wouldn't be so tight. Just half an hour before he died, he did it. It was as if he told God he needed to do this before he died because he needed us to know that he had heard our encouragement and more importantly God had heard our prayers.

A friend asked me recently at the wake what did I learn from the whole episode. I told her I learnt that in the past two months, faith aside, what carried me through was someone had offered us hope, like the doctor who respected and agreeable to our choice treatment. The result might have been the same but at least she helped us hope for a miracle.

Thank you sweetheart for choosing me to be your mummy. You were the gift in my life to teach me my life's mission - to give hope to someone else. Hope, faith, love and joy are very simple gifts that all of us have in us, yet because we "grew" up, we choose to downplay and devalue them.
We still feel the pain of the physical loss of Philip, but the hope that there's something to look forward to tomorrow, helps us through.

May all of you, choose to find the gifts in you and be the gift to those around you. I assure you, that's when you will find Good News.

What my baby taught me about faith

Death can hit anyone and everyone regardless of their wealth, background or believes. Yet when it hits, the ones left behind are hit by the same wave of pain, grief and loss.

Though only six months, Philip has taught me more than I had taught him.

1. Have courage to live

Philip had to undergo two major surgeries in July. One was to remove a 10cm tumour with his left kidney and another was to remove a 1cm tumour beside his brain stem.

Yet despite the ardent recovery process of suctioning, poking and having tubes in him, he continued to remain positive and smile at those around him. 

image taken from dreamquote.com

While most around us continue each day just to survive, he fought on to live. Perhaps that’s the beauty of being a baby. He did not know what the medical statistics against him were or what is going to happen and he found the courage to do what he needed to do and to do it with faith that it will be okay.

Since the beginning of time, God’s message to Adam and Eve was to not worry because there will be a future. But knowing that there is a future was not enough for them, they needed to know what is going to happen in the future.

As we grew, we became more worried about the next day rather than the day itself. Our fear of tomorrow’s unknown crippled our desire and excitement that awaits us today. 

Have more faith in God. He’s settled tomorrow so just enjoy and be present today.

2. Comfort - The true gift of prayer

image taken from
inspiremeministries.com

We had many questions during the past few months. “Why give Philip a cancer with so dismal prognosis?”, “Why was the cancer spreading so fast?” or “Why can’t Philip be cured?”. We prayed very hard each day, hoping to find answers to our questions. 

We prayed to God, Mother Mary, St. Jude, St. Charpel, St. Raphael and many others. But no answers were given. Up till now, we still do not understand why it had happened. 

But we had learnt throughout the past few months, that whilst sometimes prayers offer solutions and even answers, prayers were meant to offer comfort.

We did pray very hard daily hoping for a chance of miracle. But if you had ever wondered how we managed to go around being normal, it was not because we were great actors, it was because with prayers comes a little strength to continue to chart on for the day. 

If our God is a God of the living and the dead then the privilege of being a Catholic is we don’t just need to ask those on earth to pray for us, but those who have made it to heaven. Praying with them and along them gave us comfort that we are not abandoned by God in this difficult time and He still loves us very much.

3. Death does not need to have the last say

image taken from tango.com

Where is hope in times like these then? It remains a fact that Philip is no longer physically with us. Our hearts still ache and we are still learning to cope with this. But we still take comfort from our faith that we will meet each other again in heaven. I won’t be able to imagine how much worse I would feel, if we were taught that after he died he had reincarnated to be a cockroach or a mosquito. 

Thinking that he is now in heaven praying and watching over us with the other angels gives us consolation that one day when our time on earth is done, he will personally escort us to meet the Heavenly Father. 

We definitely would have wanted and hoped for more time with him. But 6 months of him is a bonus as well. Like many parents who have buried their children, the pain is indescribable. But we will live, because the God who was here today is already there tomorrow. 

The Small Triumph on Good Friday

It's been a longgg time since I had gone for a Good Friday's service (because it's not a day of obligation and it's really quite a longgggg service... don't judge) Especially when the kids came along, the thought of going for the service was even more unattractive.

Us at church to give thanks for
Baby Philip's first month

But ever since attending the Conversion Experience Retreat (CER) last year, both D and I thought that we really should spend some time and effort on the kids' spirituality. Since then, we would go mass during birthdays and public holidays, bring the kids to adoration room for quiet time and even go for confessions with them regularly. This year, we went one step further and brought all five kids with us for the Good Friday's service.

I was personally apprehensive because even for a normal mass they can get distracted and restless, what more a 2.5 hr service. D and I agreed that if it gets too disruptive, we would leave halfway through. We left home at 8.45am for the 9am service and even though the church was just 3 minutes car ride away, we were still late. We ended up standing at the back of the church for the whole service. Julian and Kyra did test us once a while during the service, but by and large, they were still manageable and we actually survived the whole service! *Hurrah*

Now, before you think our kids are angels and we have no problem with them during mass, they are not. Our kids still think mass is boring (we need to work harder for their salvation now), struggle to sit still through mass (to be fair it isn't all of them... I mean Philip is just sleeping) and even argue and fight with each other DURING mass (so much for world peace).
We have been given the death stares by fellow parishioners (because the kids were not quiet... I mean... why would they when they are not sleeping?), miss parts if not a huge chunk of mass before (because during that one hour, someone either "needs" to go to the toilet or someone would be crying) and even been seen dragging our kids out of mass to talk about their behavior (so much for being a cool mum).

Yes, we had good days in church, unfortunately from our track record, we have far more bad days.
As much as it would be great if the fellow parishioners were kind to us, we learn that we need to be kind to ourselves too and accept the fact that while God would be pleased if our kids were good, it would also please Him as much when we are trying to help them to behave.

One of my Sunday reflections

Through the years, D and I prepared for mass by looking through the readings before it starts as it helps us to focus and tune in to what the priest would share. In fact, we both will try to find something that speaks to us through the readings or homilies and share with each other during lunch. (Something which I find help us to grow as a couple)

But looking back, I realised that going to mass is not the same as taking a plane. Don't be too preoccupied and worried if your child will be bored or restless in church. (They will be regardless with the toys or not)
Our responsibility isn't to entertain them in mass (they won't be even if you did) neither is it to make sure they understood what the priest is saying (they don't because chances are you won't too). In fact, despite going to mass regularly, our kids would rather stay home and rot than go to church.
Going mass as a family is really more for D and I than for them, for us to sustain through the week (and really not to kill our kids with every test they put us through) and be reminded time and again that God loves us.

Truth be told, we can't be sure if our kids love God. We aren't even sure if they know who is God. So with each mass we attend as a family, we really are like match making them with a Being based on our experience we have with Him. But the greatest comfort of this blind dating is that because our kids love us, they are always willing to give this Being a chance every time we go to Church.

Some of my friends have commented before that they can imagine how tough it would be going to mass with 5 kids, because they are dying with their 2 kids. But they don't realise that it is equally tough for that family bringing an elderly in wheelchair for mass, or that parent dealing with his only child who has ADHD, or even that lost soul who is trying to soften his heart to come back to church.
They don't realize that it is because we see these faces in church, we are in turn encouraged and
inspired to not give up trying. And while it seems that our fellow parishioners may be frowning on our kids' behavior, we forget that we also may be a source of encouragement and inspiration for someone else.

The evil one is always hard at work especially when we try to please God. So if it's not easy for you to do the right thing, be consoled that you are doing things right.
Just take one mass at a time. If this mass was trying, the next one will be better. :)

Image from stpeterslist.com

Yikes! Change is about to happen!

Just one more sleep and what I am used to for the past 3 years will all be changed. Like many, I'd always thought that since I've been through it so many times, everything would be under control and honestly this would be child's play for me. After all, the whole process remains the same - wake up early, go for breakfast, relax a little, check into hospital, prep for surgery and get heavily sedated and when I wake up in 1hrs time, I get myself a new baby. (Like honestly, how complicated can life be? *tsk*)

But strangely, I'm not sure if I can say I was most confident this time. It could be the fear for the post surgery recovery, because I know how painful it can be. Or maybe I was from 2 helpers to down with no helper at all until yesterday when the replacement helper came and hopefully the other one comes back later today (yes on the day when I deliver). It could be also because just a few days ago I was down with flu and am probably still struggling with a little stomach flu. Or it could be maybe from the anxiety that my youngest girl will no more be the baby of the family already and I'm pushing her to grow up to be a sister (yes I still get the guilty feeling even after so many kids!). Or that maybe the mister is down with flu STILL (and that's how I fall sick) and on the night before I deliver I'm spending some time alone doing my reflection, rather than a movie night and quiet time with the mister.

Yup... as you can see things haven't been going as planned. And the irony? This pregnancy is the one which I had prayed the hardest, go church more often and had a lot more people praying for me than the other pregnancies. Should I not have prayed? Could it be an easier and smoother journey? Shouldn't prayer help in easing one's fear? What went wrong?

Unfortunately, truth of the matter is, just because I prayed harder it didn't mean that I had the trump card of being God and get to do things according to my plan or my choice. The Evil one would use every opportunity to tell and tempt me to be angry with God and to stop praying cuz obviously it hasn't been providing much consolation or so it seems. The Holy Spirit on the other hand continues to ask me to be patient and tells me it's not about me but to be faithful and just say Yes to being loved and carried by God.

Back at Home...

Feeling so overwhelmed, I actually went to the adoration room after dinner yesterday and just sat in front of the Holy Eucharist to pour out all my anxieties and somehow started to cry. (hormones maybe) I didn't realize one can be so close to God and yet so fearful at the same time. But the best thing about crying is that God knows too that I've reached my limit and He will take over from here since there is no more resistance from me to try to be in control and stay in charge. The Evil one also knows that there's no point in trying to be around because the harder he tries to be funny, the harder I will pray and that's really not what he wants too.

God's peace comes after every storm and it strangely doesn't need to make any grand entrance. Truth be told, God was present throughout the whole pregnancy. Like how my helper situation could be a mess but at least He sent me a great replacement which seems to be able to hold the fort for the time being, plus my mum was around to help me here and there with the kids so I could rest and nurse my flu. I may not have gotten many things my way, but because of this, many have used this as a reason to pray and found inspiration to be close to Him. To help with post surgery recovery, He's blessed me with a masseur who is able to come right after my surgery to help me feel better faster. And because He knows I've been anxious, He's been getting many guardian angels to send me personal love messages and prayers along the way to cheer me up and encourage me.

And even though I pray that He could give me a miraculously painless birth, I forget that the more I look at myself, the more I forget that He is the same God that managed to feed thousands with just 5 loaves and 2 fishes, heal the blind and sick and even raise the dead... He IS so mighty and all I could do was just to limit Him to my fears and plans. If God had really been given the control of my life, how much greater can it be? The opposite of fear is not exactly courage, it's just stop saying No to God.

Trust me, it's not a bad feeling. And so I say to you.... Peace be with You. :)

Disciplining with Faith

In my social media posts, I tend to pick the happier pictures of the family... because
1. it's social media (and it's 90% fake news or at least it only shows a glimpse of what happens 10% of the day) and
2. who even has the mood to pose and take photos when things are bad *tsk*

One of our favorite activities together

Yet amidst the laughter, we have our struggles with our kids. The toughest part of parenting for me, isn't the pregnancy, recovery and breastfeeding (I speak from experience), sitting down and studying with them (it's still painful though), dealing with their tantrums in public (thank God for thick skin) or even dealing with the different styles of raising your kids with your spouse or in laws (no explanation needed). The worse for me is really when one needs to exert discernment in discipling.

You see, disciplining can result in many things... you can have really great outcomes where they listen to you (and we all live happily ever after), when they don't agree with you and defy you (and you don't know what goes on inside their minds) or when you are not even confident if you did the right thing even. So as you can see the majority of disciplining (for me) ends with something... negative, which means chances are after a disciplining session, I might
(a) lose my temper
(b) end up with at least 1 angry kid
(c) end up in tears at night wondering if I could have done things differently

Yesterday was one of the days when I was tested again. We had pledged $12 to a friend's kid's school fundraising campaign the day before which the mister had passed to Julian to place in the donation envelope, but the parents went home that night and told us that they only had the $2 and according to their daughter, Julz had taken $10 and kept it. Knowing how much he's fascinated by money, it is possible that it happened.

Last night, D was out for class and I was home alone with the kids. I asked Julz about the $10 and he told me that he had given to the girl that day and wasn't sure what happened to it subsequently.  After checking with my other kids, they all said the same version and he didn't play with it later. Since the $10 was missing in my house, it's obvious it had to be somewhere at home. Got everyone to look for it, but it was in vain.

I checked with my friend if his daughter could remember where she might last saw it, but no one could (sign that $10 nowadays isn't a big thing). My dear friends, would you trust your child or would you trust otherwise given the lack of evidence?

I made the painful decision of forfeiting $10 from Julz piggy bank. (Remember, this child of mine loves money). Julian cried, not because I asked him to bring down his piggy bank, but because I scolded him. I know this boy of mine isn't the best behaved kid amongst the 4 but when he is wrongly accused, that's his normal reaction. And my mother's instinct told me that (thankfully) he didn't take the money. But I wanted him to know that he needed to pay the price of not doing his job properly. Julian saves $2 each day because he doesn't believe in spending too much in school and he enjoys seeing his money grow, so $10 was probably a big thing for him. When he took the money out and passed me, my heart ached. I was holding back my tears and tried to look away so he won't see any trace of my eyes being wet.

The apology note he wrote

I explained to him that while it may not have been his fault entirely, it was because of his irresponsibility and oversight that got him into this. I think he understood it and a part of me was glad he could be detached enough to let go of his $10 for this.

We sat down that night and I got him to write a note too to the couple friends, because he was rude to them and since he was receptive, why not?
We ended with a hug and a kiss and said the night prayers with the rest of the other kids.

When the mister got home, he told me he would have waived the $10 but I disagreed. My argument is that, unlike God, we cannot be around all the time to get him out of situations like these. But we did agree to reimburse him on a later date on a separate occasion.

Everything seemed fine, but I went to bed with a heavy heart. If it was the right thing to do, why would my heart feel the ache? Parenting is never for the weak hearted and our views and decisions made can never be perfect, but as a catholic, the only consolation is I can always turn to the Perfect one who probably has tonnes of experience coping with disciplining... from afar.

A priest friend once told me that God has by far the greatest experience of dealing with children who defy and walk away from Him. He has also felt the greatest pain of sending His innocent child to die on the cross for the greatest sinner amongst us... (Think Hitler and whoever). But I suppose I'm luckier than Him since I can physically hug and kiss my child and remind him I still love him and not leave it to "faith".

You may not agree with how I handled it, and I don't claim to be an expert on disciplining kids even though I have 4 (and soon 5).

I shared before in my social media post that one of the blessings of having kids is the fact I'm seen more on bended knees before the cross, became more humble and more human. The best thing I could do last night was to go to bed, and pray that even if I didn't get the gift of wisdom, I hoped that my kids got the gift of understanding...

I hope God answered that. :)