Funny how the Mother’s Days of breakfast, poems, and excited little faces have passed. My children know that commercialized holidays don’t mean much to me. And yet, when I got home from my weekend seminar this afternoon, I received a sweet text message from my daughter.

Last week while standing in my son’s room and talking with him, I noticed an interesting object on his desk. “What’s this?” “Nothing!” I averted my eyes and walked out of the room. Then I peeked back through the door and asked: “Mother’s Day?” “It’s a present for Dad,” he answered with a grin. Today, of course, he gave it to me.

Strange how as the kids get older, my thoughts on this day once again go back to my mother. She was so young when her first child was born! It blows me away at times, though I can’t really say why. Perhaps it’s the realization that she was a young woman with hopes and dreams — so much more than simply my brother’s mother. So, dear Mom, Happy Mother’s Day! I hope your joy with your children makes up for some of those lost dreams.

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