We are a family of girls, four of them to be exact. Within a 5-year span, my husband and I found ourselves surrounded by various shades of pink and we've loved it ever since!
I often joke that I should wear a sign that reads, "Yes, 4 girls! And yes, they are all mine!"
My husband's version would probably read, "Nope, no boys."
Whether on a family trip to the park, a daddy date to the movies or a mommy outing to the dollar store, we are reminded by others that our hands are full.
I could not agree more.
Our hands are full, but not by the implied definition.
Let me explain.
There is no denying that raising children, boys and girls, is a big job that requires all hands on deck. But our responsibility as parents is much greater than sorting through hair bows, counting chicken nuggets, finding shin guards, and keeping track of the heads that enter and exit our minivans. Yes, that is a plural – minivans. My husband needs another shirt that reads, "Real men drive a minivan."
But furthermore, our hands are full because we are called to be the heart, hands and feet of Jesus to those around us.