For years, it seems our lives have been just one trying time folding into another trying time. Humor has always been my way of dealing with things.  Lately it seems harder and harder to find the funny, which can not make life for those around me any easier.

I can not express the level of patience and sacrifice that have been made on my behalf by my stalwart husband, Michael, whose love is never ending, his dedication never faltering; and also by my precious Machaela, who even through her own physical pain and fatigue, talks me down from panic attacks, encourages me, and finds hope where I see none.

Day in and day out, they keep this house going, make sure we are fed, and take care of someone as needy as a new born baby (without the cuteness and baby head smell.) When I am ready to give up, they won’t allow it, and they never give up on me. I try to tell them often how sorry I am for what I put them through. What I don’t say enough is how much they enrich my life and give me something worth struggling for. When any one with any sense would cut their losses and run, these two run to me, and that is the very definition of love.

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