cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
I lost my birth mom the day I came into this world. We were in Northern India together and connected for just a few moments…and then…separated. I grieved the disruptive loss of a second (adoptive) mother the day I turned 18. Those are two significant days that hold life and newness which have been marked…
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A few nights ago, my three-and-a-half year-old daughter, steeped in curiosity, approached me with yet another one of her earnest questions. “Mom,” she said, her big blue eyes looking up at me, “What’s a mother?” Familiar only with the more casual “Mom,” “Mama,” or “Mommy,” she had heard the word “mother” somewhere and found it…
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I have three young children, but more often than not, I feel like the mother of four. There are many times I’ve wondered what God was thinking, orchestrating circumstances so that the most intensive period of my recovery overlapped with having two small children under the age of four, then adding pregnancy and a third…
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An Open Letter To “The Original Three”:
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