Son #3 had a mango mousse delivered because it was on special sale that day. He said, “That’s for Mother’s Day.”
My heart danced.
Son #1 was going to have his computer serviced in the mall, and I requested him to buy me an extra mouse in case mine conked out. He gave me the mouse, and naturally I asked, “How much do I owe you?”
He replied, “None. It’s a Mother’s Day gift.”
My heart danced again.
Son #2, who lives abroad, sends me moolah for “expenses” any day of the year. I take that as another Mom’s Day gift—and another chance for my heart to dance whenever I receive it.
It’s true what people say: boys are not into frills, fuss, and rituals. Neither are they effusive. I live without peripherals; Mother’s Day, for me, is all days of the year.
Here they are celebrating their own birthdays, that special day when each was delivered, not by a stork, but by the Father of all.
Ahhh, I am waxing nostalgic. Grace weaves in and around me during this pandemic.
“Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb is a reward.” (Psalm 127:3 NKJV)
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