Mother’s Day weekend is upon us, and I’ve given just
enough thought to it to have sent out cards to some of the older women who have
nurtured me over the years. What I’d give to cook dinner for my mother this
weekend. But she’s been gone seventeen years, ample time for me to grow
accustomed to a different kind of Mother’s Day.
|Winnifred (Winnie) Trustlove Dale Latimer|
March 28, 1911 - April 21, 1997
I’m not sad, just remembering the woman who loved me
deeply and sacrificed to make my life easier than hers. Somehow she always knew
just what to say to make me feel better or to pull me up short when I was out of line.
Unselfish to a fault—she had trouble receiving compliments
or gifts. Sometimes you just had to force them on her. Today I wish I could
shower her with presents and tell her one more time how blessed I am to be her
daughter. (Yes, present tense. I’ll always be her blessed daughter.)
If your mother’s still in this world, it’s not too
late to tell her you love her.
Do something nice to let her know how much you appreciate
children arise and call her blessed...
Labels: Gratitude, Mother's Day, Mothers