Growing up, my mom and dad had a favorite saying: “Remember who you are!” They said it each day we left for school, when we went to a friend’s house, or when I complained in aisle five that they wouldn’t buy me fudge cookies. It was a loaded phrase that came with layers of meaning: I had family who loved me, forgiveness would always be found, and no matter what, we would always be there for one another.

Because my family was so tight-knit, I always believed blood was thicker than water. But then my husband’s job moved us and our three kids to Chicago, five hours from any family or friends. It was the first time in more than 25 years I had been away from their support. With a husband who worked as long as the sun was up, I was lonelier than ever, and I mourned the loss of my family the most.

But God was teaching me to look further than bloodlines for my family.

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