By Crystal Fulmer 
Slowly, my job is getting easier. Not because I run a tight ship or because I’m some sort of drill sergeant mom. Truth be told, I’m horrible at delegating tasks. But I would hope that over the years, some of my and my husband’s nurture and sacrifice have flowed out onto our kids, and it makes my heart burst when I see it in action.
Books read aloud to younger siblings. Big sister doing little sister’s hair. The kitchen cleaned after dinner while Billie Eilish, Benson Boone, or Disney tunes are cranked up and sang at the top of youthful lungs.
Big brother teaching little brother how to play ball. Walking by a sparkling bathroom I didn’t have to clean. One sibling offering to oversee the shower of a little one.
Looking out my back window to see an older sister hugging an injured younger brother, telling him it’s all going to be okay. Younger siblings giving each other high fives.
The sound of little hands pouring food into dog bowls. The handing down of favorite toys and stuffed animals. Taking pictures together and hanging them on their walls.
There is nothing like watching the kids you raised take care of home and family. There’s nothing like realizing they weren’t just paying attention to the mistakes, but the good stuff is hitting home as well.
I pray that they will always nurture each other—future spouses and kids included. So that long after we’re gone, they’ll each know they have the support they need—no matter what comes their way.
by Tynea Lewis 
by Kelsey Scism 
by Megan Hanlon 
