When your mother is no longer in this world's realm, Mother's Day can be bitter sweet. The last time I saw my mother alive was Mother's Day, 2003. I'm sad that I can no longer visit her or call her up or send and receive emails, but her memory grows sweeter every year. And someday I will see her again. Until then, my own children bless and honor me in so many ways. I suppose somewhere in my wicked past I must have done something good, as Maria Von Trapp says, because my cup runneth over.
My son and his sweet wife and children sent me a package full of treasures and a card. Kelsey and her family brought me flowers, chocolates, and a card. My husband bought me chocolates. And even my sweet sister remembered me on Mother's Day with a lovely card. Thank you all! Having you all in my life is the best gift of all. Thank you for making me feel so loved!
Kelsey, Charis, and I went for pedis and manis yesterday. Afterwards, Brent took pictures of our painted hands and feet. Charis with her tiny purple fingernails, Kelsey's lovely, youthful hands, and mine, well, they looked like a grandma's hand. It kind of shocked me at first, the weathered skin, the wrinkles. What happened to my hands? But after all, I am a grandmother now. I've had my childhood and my youth. Now is a different season and I'm ok with that. Most days. I'm grateful for my good health and that I have the energy to keep up with my grandkids. What are a few wrinkles?
