I spend a lot of time thinking about my failure as a parent.  How I am probably not what is best for these boys.  How sometimes it seems that things are getting worse and not better.

How I want so much for them yet things are just ugly.  It seems like all the time. 

They hate me.  They remind me every day.  Maybe they are right.  Maybe I don't deserve to be a parent.

I so desperately want to help them heal and sometimes it just feels like I am compounding the damage.

Then...God puts this in my path and causes me to change direction if only for a moment.

It's then that I know He knows.