I think Mother's Day should be celebrated on March 4. That's the day I really became a mother, so, May 10 is sort of random, isn't it? But that first Mother's Day, I'll never forget. Shayne (fulfilling his new fatherly duty to offer a meaningful gift to his wife on her first Mother's Day) passed with flying colors! He managed to take our 2-month-old baby, coat her tiny feet in blue paint and press them onto red construction paper. He then wrote a little poem as if from her and framed it for me. That is a precious keepsake to me (even thought I was thinking, 'Construction paper? Couldn't he find any lovely, linen paper for such a gift??') Nonetheless, by its imperfection, it became perfect. Several Mother's Day gifts have come my way since that day. I have loved them all equally. And to this day, nothing brings me to tears faster than the simple words written by my child's hand. Natasha's beautiful tribute given to me this year had me blubbering by the second line. And I thought Dane's hand-painted flower pot worthy of serious artistic recognition. Maybe it's a gene given to women, turned on through the right of birth. So, guilt-infusing church talks aside, I love celebrating motherhood and being reminded for a consecrated moment of just what is truly important to me in my life--Natasha, Connor, Dane, Fynn. I adore you! Here's to many, many more Mother's Days spent in your presence...
Beautiful!
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