Once upon a time I believed wealth equated to lots of money. In these few days approaching Josinta and Jada’s 7th birthday, and my 32nd birthday (we all know Facebook doesn’t lie 😂) I’m satisfied that I know better. The tough lessons, the blatant undeserved prizes, the gifts wrapped in obscurity, and the terrifying unexpected curve balls life has bestowed upon me have unearthed and refined my interpretation of life’s purpose. Wealth can be defined as an abundance of something desirable. On my birthday seven years ago, bedridden on the Maternity Ward of Mater Mothers Hospital in Brisbane, a beautiful lady belonging to the cleaning staff remarked upon my situation with a generous smile. ‘Four girls! You are a rich woman’. I absorbed those words, and appreciate them more and more as time passes. At the end of any day, year, and eventually my life, regardless of material possessions, cash in the bank or assets in my name, the abundance that I’ve been given makes me a wealthy woman, allowing me to fulfil my life’s purpose, as I understand it.
To love, and be loved. That’s what life is all about. What I could have done so far in my life to deserve my four beautiful daughters eludes me, but maybe they were gifted to me paradoxically. Perhaps they were gifted to me because I simply needed four earthly angels to love me unconditionally and with such dependent enormity I could never again doubt my purpose as their mother.