Around Mother’s Day, a few compassionate friends express concern I am missing my mother. I answer, “She’s with me all the time.”
She is. And I don’t mean it in a sappy/Hallmark card sort of way. I feel her presence as I set the table with her lovely dishes, make silly faces with Gabe or splurge on luxurious rose lotion at the mall.
But my mother and I didn’t always get along this well. During much of her lifetime, we struggled. Today, I’m writing about our evolving relationship on Segullah. I’m always hesitant to say anything negative about my now truly angel mother, but she whispers, “Tell the truth. Tell people they have hope. Christ heals every wound; tends every heart. We have so much happiness ahead of us.”