Real Love and Valentine's Day

I love you, Mom. You won’t be my last Valentine, but you will always be my first.

Valentine’s Day.

You either love it, or you hate it.

Growing up, I was never the girl with a boyfriend on Valentine’s Day. In fact, the first year I had a boyfriend on Valentine’s Day, I was 18. And that isn’t a good example.

The first year Jim and I were married, 1992, Valentine’s Day was a DISASTER.

There have been good ones thrown in there every now and then, though. And I have met friends with birthdays on V-Day, so I think of them and hope they have a great birthday/Valentine’s Day.

However, for those of us who can’t afford the gifts of jewelry, fine dining, $100/dozen roses, and overpriced chocolate gifts, we do the best with what we have. We make beautiful dinners at home with our kids and spouses, we laugh and watch movies together, knowing these days won’t last forever.

Now I’m not saying that those who give expensive gifts don’t do these things. What I am saying is this: I’m glad my love language is not receiving gifts because if it was, I would feel very unloved. And it wouldn’t be because my husband wouldn’t buy me gifts because he would if we could afford it. But we can’t, and we know it.

I don’t feel unloved at all.

My love language is acts of service. A great show of love to me is my husband making dinner, changing my bandages over this last couple of weeks, and praying over me.

While I think those who receive gifts are not bragging or trying to hurt anyone by talking about their gifts and showing pictures on Facebook or other social media, I think about those who don’t have a significant other, or those who are single parents, or those who are heartbroken. For those people, V-Day can just be a reminder of what has never been found, or what has been lost.

In all honesty, people should show their love more than one day a year anyway! That’s what real love is. It isn’t a part in a play; it’s REAL LIFE.

When Isaac hugged me last night before bed, we were joking around, and I said, “Okay, repeat after me.”

Mom… You won’t be my last Valentine, but you’ll always be my first.

He laughed. But then he said it.

And he smiled.

Prodigal Magazine is Going Away Soon

My first article in an online magazine. It was in 2013, and it was so exciting!

The magazine is closing down, and the content is going away. If you want to read some very inspiring stories, go to their website and check it out before it's gone.

My story is at http://www.prodigalmagazine.com/more-than-i-knew-i-needed/.

I've shared it here before, but I'm reclaiming since the website is going away.


The fact we already had three young sons was a miracle. After the diagnosis of Endometriosis, we didn’t know if we would ever have any biological children.
But here I was, pregnant for the fourth and last time. And we just found out we were having twins!

As we drove home that Monday morning, I was at a loss for words.
In fact, at this “routine” 20-week ultrasound appointment in my doctor’s office, all my husband could do was laugh when Dr. Glover zoomed in on the two heads in the picture. Twins! Wow…

Jim said he knew it all along, though there appeared to be only one heartbeat each time we went to the doctor.

Dr. Glover couldn’t tell us the gender of our precious little ones who were growing inside me. She said she would schedule an ultrasound at the hospital so the babies could be measured and looked at more closely.
I was in a higher risk category because of carrying multiples.
We left there in a fog. All we could do was laugh.
Noah was 4, and Jonah was 3, so they could understand that Mommy had two babies in her tummy. But Caleb was only 16 months, so he had no clue. I don’t remember much about the drive home except we were just in shock.
As soon as we got home, I started calling everyone I could think of. The conversations went something like this:
Me: Well, they couldn’t see if I’m having a boy or girl.
Them: Oh, really? Why?
Me: Because there’s two of them!
Them: What? Twins?
And then we’d take turns laughing, and some of them would ask what we were going to do… All we knew is that we would love them.

My head was spinning in all directions as I lay in bed that Sunday night.

Our appointment for the more in-depth ultrasound was the next day, and we were anxious to learn more about them. We also wondered how we were going to care financially for these five children, when taking care of three on a teacher’s salary was proving to be difficult.
Our biggest need was beds. I needed to get out of the waterbed we were sleeping in. I wasn’t comfortable at all. Noah and Jonah were sleeping in our “other” bed, and we needed to buy bunk beds for them.
We knew five kids in a three-bedroom place would be crowded, but doable.

My prayer was simple.

“Please, Lord, help us. We don’t have money for new beds for the kids, but I know you will provide what we need. And I trust You.”
I didn’t tell anyone about my prayer that night, including my husband. In fact, I actually had peace after praying, and I had no anxiety when I woke up the next morning.
Our boys stayed with a sitter, Rachael, that afternoon while Jim and I went to the hospital.
Excitement and disbelief rushed over us again and again as we heard the words. “’Baby A’ is a boy! And ‘Baby B’ is a boy!” It was just so crazy! We had them named Jesse and Isaac before the ultrasound was finished.
When we arrived at home, Rachael’s parents were waiting there to pick her up. We told them the news, and we all laughed and praised God. I could hardly contain myself! Then, Rachael said there was a package for us that had come in the mail, and it was on the table.

I was standing next to it the whole time I had been home and hadn’t even seen it.

It was a square package of about 7 inches. The postmark was Guthrie, Oklahoma. We didn’t know anyone in Guthrie, so I couldn’t really imagine what it could be.
When I opened the box, there was a letter inside.
“Dearest Hammer Family,
This is a gift for your family that the Lord knows you need and wants you to have. It is sent to you with great love anonymously because our Heavenly Father deserves all the glory, and it is never to be repaid.
The Lord has touched many lives for eternity through your love, faithfulness and witness in Christ.”

The letter held seven crisp $100 bills.

Only God and I knew I had prayed the night before for beds for our children. And God had already answered my prayer before I prayed. You see, the package was mailed Friday, December 3, 1999.
This day was Monday, December 6th.
Jesse, Isaac and I went through some preterm labor and nights in the hospital before they were born three weeks early. They were tiny boys at birth weighing 5 pounds 14 ounces and 5 pounds 5 ounces, but they were healthy. And they were beautiful.

Our family is no different than any other. We laugh, and we cry.
We endure painful trials at times. And if I hear the murmurs of the enemy, the lies hissing God doesn’t care about me or my family, and if I am ever tempted to believe it, my mind automatically goes back to the winter of 1999, and the miracle of God answering my prayer… before it was ever whispered.

Reading my story again only strengthens my resolve that God is in control of the major and seemingly minor events of our lives. What a life I've been given!