I woke up this morning in a small village in Honduras. I can hear breakfast being made in the kitchen downstairs, and the fragrance of freshly brewed coffee is filling every space. It’s mornings like this – and places like this – I miss my mom. I believe she would be a woman of Building Eden, or at least be one of its greatest cheerleaders. Writing a book can be a lonely thing, and wondering if anyone will care about words that aren’t dripping with celebrity or promising three simple steps can haunt a soul. So today, I’m sharing a little love note to my mom. I’ve learned from the women in the book that saying what you feel is important.
Today, I feel longing. Today, my mom is the wisdom. Today, I am reminded of legacy.
Hey there mom. I’m missing you today, and wish I could talk to the young woman you were before you made the hard decision of giving the baby girl in your teenage arms to neighbors in your small town, before you thought the idea of running away to the big city to get married would mean something better, before you held the second baby girl and wept because you were afraid of your husband and the life you were living. I’d love to know the dreams you had back then. You wrote poetry and sketched landscapes. You loved to dance and wanted to travel. And your mom taught you to always invite strangers to the table for a good meal, because it may be the only kindness they’re shown.
I’d love to know those dreams, because I think they may have come true. In me.
I wish you could see just how much your blood runs through my veins now – how I find joy in the same things that made you smile and gave you hope. I wish you could read my stories or see the pictures. I wish you were with me to hold the lonely. I wish I could serve you at the table.
I know you’d adore your great-grandkids, and I know you’d beam with approval at the beauty your grandson married. I know you would join me for a dance in the living room of a home filled with peace.
And I know you’d be thrilled to know your daughters finally met each other. We’re doing well, mom. Love has trumped fear. Your legacy lives on.
I love you, mom. Thank you for loving me. xoxo