I'm also participating in Chari's Sunday Favorites. So many of us have been blogging for such a long time that some of our best posts have become buried. For those that are new to our blogs this is a wonderful way in which to share our favorites. So jump over to Sunday Favorites and take part in this wonderful meme.
Put Courage Into My Heart
Lord, put courage into my heart, and take away all that may hinder me serving you.
Free my tongue to proclaim your goodness, that all may understand me.
Give me friends to advise and help me, that by working together our efforts may bear abundant fruit.
And, above all, let me constantly remember that all my actions are in vain unless they are guided by your hand.
Many thanks for letting me participate Charlotte and Ginger.
This was originally published on
Monday, May 12, 2008.I have to say it brought a tear to my eye when reading it again and remembering.
Simple, Single Pink Rose
Hormones seem to come into play around middle age and I often wonder if that's good or bad. Mother's Day was no exception to the rule. I hate when my hormones are this way. One minute laughing hysterically at any and everything and the next a sobbing red nosed mess with tissues all around. No matter how many times I try explaining how I feel to trucker he quite honestly never seemed to understand. He always ended up blaming himself for my crying and thinking he has done something wrong in one way or another. I think he finally understood yesterday that it is not something I can help and most assuredly would like to not happen.
My Mother's Day started out in a grand way with trucker bringing me breakfast in bed along with my coffee. This started an avalanche of hormones flowing and I laughed and cried all at the same time. He at first thought he hadn't cooked something right or made a mistake of some sort. After explaining once again "it's just hormones" we both laughed again.
The day progressed like any day on the weekend here. Housework to be done, meals to be cooked and other chores done by all. All the kids wished me well and went about their usual activities. I never heard from my own son however and this did make those damn hormones that much worse. I tried for the most part of ignore it, to let the feelings go and just bury them deep inside and suffocate them out. For the most part this worked if I stayed busy and didn't think about it.
I cooked a large family meal (yeah, something most other mothers get done for them on this day) and we went to sit down to eat together in our dining room. Rug Rat 2 asked if he could wait a minute before sitting down. No problem we told him "what's up." He went out of the room and came back with a single pink rose in a vase and handed it to me, all the while grinning from ear to ear in his sweet way. My eyes welled up with tears as I reached out to hug him close and thanked him for what he had taken the time to do for me. That single simple pink rose meant more to me than anything anyone had done or could have done. In that moment I forgot about how my own birth son had forgotten the day and cried for the joy that this, my second son had given me. His simple act of a single rose being given to me reminded me that even though he may not be my birth child he is my child in heart.
Many blessings to all this glorious Sunday,