1. I am grateful for bedtime stories with three eager listeners followed by sweet prayers and goodnight kisses.

2. I am grateful for the sound of a breeze blowing through the trees in the silent of the night.

3. I am grateful to have been wide awake enough to watch the ending of the rain-delayed Royals game, especially since they won.

4. I am grateful to have been asked over and over again to “sing us a song.”

5. I am grateful for the memory of eating Spaghettios, a very rare treat.

6. I am grateful today for the sting and the bite of painful consequences. I read this morning, “Hurt people hurt people. Loved people love people.” It is true. I’ve lived both. I live both. So it is in the sting and the bite that I hold onto this:

I sat in the back of the van, Anissa in a carseat on one side, Andrae in a carseat on the other side. We were on our way to have dinner at the Stockyards after a day of becoming reacquainted. The two oldest are in constant competition, vying for attention and fairness.  “Ama, I wanna tell you a secret,” Anissa whispered in my ear.

“You are the best Ama in the who-o-ole world!”

My heart danced.

“Ama, I wanna tell you a secret, too!” Andrae couldn’t be outdone.

“Thank you for my new toys. I love you.”

My heart was twirling on the ballroom floor.

7. I am grateful for child secrets whispered, even if they are one-ups. They are band-aids for my heart today.

Rain cannot dampen a grateful heart.

I am grateful to have stood at the door on Friday morning and see Annistan’s look of surprise when we rang the doorbell. She and Andrae came running, and she immediately wanted me to hold her, while Andrae ran to Sam with the biggest grin and laughs.

I am grateful for the opportunity to take three grandchildren on a walk on Friday morning to go to Anissa’s school and pick her up after school was out.

I am grateful for the privilege of seeing the look on her face when her teacher said her name and she turned to see us standing there waiting for her.

I am grateful for the enormous hug that she gave me when she jumped into my arms.

I am grateful for littlest clown Anjalie who makes everyone happy with her cheesy grins and infectious giggling.

I am grateful for time to take the kids to breakfast on Saturday morning and then roam the aisles of Walmart looking for new shoes.

I am grateful for my daughter who handles four little ones like it’s no big deal. It IS a big deal, and she makes her mom so proud.

I am grateful to have been invited to spend Mothers Day weekend with my daughter and her family.

I am grateful to have heard the gentle sound of rain and the music of thunder as I waited in the night for morning to arrive, knowing the new day would begin with two little girls sneaking into the room to see if we were awake.

I am grateful for dancing Sam because he makes my grandchildren giggle in the middle of a store.

I am grateful for the fun of seeing the Fort Worth Stockyards, reading each Walk of Fame plaque to Anissa and Andrae, going to Roanoke and enjoying the evening with the family, eating ice cream after dinner and walking outside to see a beautiful rainbow with the kids, watching the sun say “goodnight” with Anissa, and then hanging out while Daddy played balloon with the kids in an open field.

I am grateful that this family spends their Sundays in church and grateful that we were able to worship with them today.

And I am grateful that even though Mom is not here with us any longer, she sees her first grandchild as a young Mom now, soon to have five of her own just like her Grandma had…and I am sure she is beaming with pride.

Happy Mothers Day, Mom. Thank you, Lord, for a weekend of blessing showers.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=IrDwO0TQWjM

Clearly, THE (as in, THEE) best ice cream flavor in the history of the world. And for it, I am grateful.

As well as:

• crisp apple slices
• birds who do not use my hood as their bathroom break
• Dad who fills the bird feeder and gets the mail every day
• toys in the trunk
• peony buds
• downpours without the flash flooding
• the ultimate club from Goodcents during a visit with my beautiful CASA girl
• ironing done
• cool mornings for walking
• a husband who loads the dishwasher and then starts it when I forget
• sparrows
• windshield wipers that don’t squeak
• Mom’s lap to sleep on during church
• shoes that fit and don’t hurt my feet
• long weekends that involve another state, giggling children, a hug from Karissa, sleeping on an air mattress, early morning alarms that involve little people, and
• a ROAD TRIP WITH SAM, starting in about two hours!

One of my all time favorite books is “Are You My Mother?” by P.D. Eastman. I LOVE this book. It makes me happy. You should read it this weekend…

I think of the upcoming “holiday” and all of the strings attached to it. The obligations to send a card, to order flowers, to plan the day for Mom, to make the phone call… I remember the many years that Dad bought Mom a corsage to wear on Mother’s Day Sunday and seeing the pretty flower sitting in its package on the refrigerator shelf the night before, and the many years that elementary art projects were brought home special for Mom, and the mimeographed recipes from a class project that was a secret and surprise. I remember the years that my Mom acted so amazed and surprised at the silly little ways to honor her on Mother’s Day, and how she was always so careful to honor her Mom and mother-in-law. I remember a year when my girls made breakfast for me before church. I remember a year when I received a St. George cookbook with my daughter’s picture inside the front cover. I remember the years of handmade cards from one or both of my girls, saved almost forever in a box.

I also think of the heartache of the day. It isn’t such a beautiful thing sometimes.

Especially for the Moms who are far away from their loves, the heartbeats of their soul, their children.

Especially for the Moms who have experienced the unfathomable loss of a child.

Especially for the Moms who face difficulties with their children who are loved so much but are so unlovable.

Especially for the Moms who want to be Moms but have not been able to conceive…yet.

Especially for the Moms who are estranged from their children because of broken relationships.

Especially for the Moms who are wonderful Moms but receive no acknowledgment and are not given the honor they so deserve.

Especially for the Moms who face the day all alone, trying to forget what day it really is.

So, I am grateful that this year, I will once again spend my Mother’s Day with one of my girls and her family and grateful that I will have the privilege of being a Mom and Ama on Mother’s Day.

I am grateful today for my brother and sister-in-law’s church newsletter. As I read it, I was reminded of Mother Daughter Teas in my history. I reminisce about the minor dread I felt every May when the Ladies Missionary Society would plan this social gathering, and Mom would call or send an invitation for the girls and I to attend with her. Early on, the dread was because of the heartless attitude of her daughter, not wanting to give up an evening to sit with a small group of older women and wear a fake smile. How completely selfish of me…

Later, the dread was because of the invitation to present the “special program” when Mom was in charge and wanted to show her granddaughters off. How completely selfish of me…

And then…the time came, as we grew older, when the dread took over because we lived four hours away and Mom would be one of the women who did not have a daughter or granddaughter sitting next to her for the special occasion.

Can I have do-overs, please?

I would like to go back and re-live each Mother Daughter Tea and savor every last second of sitting next to my Mom, seeing her beam when she saw us walk into the fellowship hall, feeling her hand on my leg when I sat down next to her as she whispered in my ear, “I AM SO GLAD YOU MADE IT!!”

Those special Sunday afternoons or Thursday evenings were so important to her, and I was so preoccupied with myself…

I now love that she put such effort into planning and preparation in order to make it an enjoyable and memorable occasion. She worked so hard on little favors for the guests or writing a poem to read or making desserts for the table. She would plan 2-3 months in advance when she was in charge of the “program,” lining up the entertainment that would be suitable for all ages. She was a faithful servant, and for her example, I am grateful.

For the few Mother Daughter Teas at the Friends Church I was able to attend, I am grateful.

For the memories of my girls sharing their talents while their Grandma looked on with pride, I am grateful.

For the unconditional love my Mom had for her very selfish daughter, I am grateful.

And for her motherly and grandmotherly example to follow, I am grateful.

I am grateful for:

• A muggy May Day to work inside in dry air conditioning
• Pink in the morning sky
• Blue jays, robins, cardinals and a bird bath with clean water in it
• Our small group friends
• A daughter who calls me when she has a few moments to spare, just because
• Pancakes for lunch
• Walking to chips and salsa
• Emma’s hug
• The warm of a car after cold of an air conditioned office
• The opportunity to hear Lance’s music again
• Coloring books and new colors
• Spacious parking spaces, larger bathroom stalls, wide shoulders on the road, and lots of counter space
• Bakeries full of fresh baked bread
• Memories of feeding the ducks with Mom and the girls, her bags of old bread saved for such special occasions

• Counseling day
• An unplanned Sunday afternoon nap
• Abbie’s unique
• A really good PotBelly sandwich on a patio with Sam
• Romans 8
• A request that I bring monster cookies and chocolate scotcheroos and puppy chow this weekend – makes me feel like a Mom again
• People who use dryer sheets and fabric softener and decide to dry their clothes while we take our walk – the smell in the air is a beautiful thing to my nose
• The privilege of attending three services yesterday and volunteering during the fourth
• A car that runs smoothly and a husband who cares for it
• Plastic over the newspaper on a drippy day
• Sunday night popcorn