Last night at the supper table I shared with my family a gasp-for-my-breath moment I had in church this past Sunday.
I was sitting in church, minding my own business while listening intently to what the pastor was sharing, when out of the blue this thought hit me,
You don’t have a will. You have no idea who will take charge of your children when Mr. FullCup and yourself depart this earth.
It’s true. We don’t have a will. We haven’t asked anyone specifically to guardian our children in the event of our passing. We are both entering a “more interesting” age, an age when it is definitely easier to tell you what doesn’t hurt in the morning, than what does. We’re old people with young children.
I thought immediately of a young man in our church, the girls are crazy about him and we all love him. But he doesn’t have a Mrs. I don’t know about you but I’m a little leery of sending my girls to live with a man alone, even though we love him and trust him. I just can’t do it.
Then I thought of two friends who are married (to each other, in fact, which is an added bonus) and wondered if we should ask them. My mind though kept going back to the young man. It was flitting so quickly between the couple and young man I was afraid I would get whiplash.
Anyway, I was telling my family about this mental conversation I was having and kept having despite repeat mental slaps to the head and shouting “FOCUS!” I told my girls that really it could all be a moot point because if we expired when our oldest was 18, she would automatically get guardianship of her younger sister.
The younger sister looked at me in abject horror.
The older one gloated. She also was trying to figure out what grade her sister would be be and said, “You would be in………”
“High school?” from the younger sister.
When her older sister didn’t reply because she was still thinking, the younger one said: