In Nicaragua where I grew up, my church would hand mothers a rose when they walked through the door on Mother’s Day. I always felt a bit uncomfortable with the concept of choosing a red rose if your mother was living or a white rose if she had passed. I never wanted to be that woman walking in with the white rose. It felt worse than the scarlet letter in my opinion. The white rose that yelled: Look at me, my mother is dead! That’s bluntly what it felt like. But when you lose your mother at the ripe age of 11 before you even know what a menstrual cycle is all about, you don’t know how to grieve, so you learn to stuff those emotions that make you fidgety. And boy can I beat you at the stuffing. Continue reading When Mother’s Day Gives You a Lump in Your Throat
The last 48-hours have been intense in my heart. Let me explain…
Yesterday I was still basking in the glory of having finished a 9 month intensive Bible class at the Downline Institute in Little Rock. Graduation Monday night was bittersweet, but it couldn’t come fast enough. I was wilting away and running on fumes. The grueling schedule works around your full-time work schedule so that you attend classes Monday nights for 2 hours and Wednesday mornings another 2 hours….beginning at 5:45am. You read that right. That was A to the M. Then one extra Friday morning (or 2) a month. It was worth dragging out of bed when it all was said and done, but most definitely had it not been for the support of my husband and son, I couldn’t have finished. Continue reading When I Said No, I Really Meant Yes
June 9, 2013
I sat on the edge of the bed, looking out the window at the rain falling on a herd of cows eating that most super green Alabama grass…and I held her. 7 years old. I’ve always joked that she’s the Omega of the bunch. I’m the Alpha, the eldest. She’s the last of the 7 siblings. And I’ve never held her like this, cradled in my arms like if she was from my own womb. I try to turn her face towards me but she’s hiding her eyes, digging her snotty nose on my shoulder.