The reality of some moments:
As always, it was a tearful and joyoful Mother’s Day. Yesterday, we had a crafting / sewing day at church to make Little Dresses for Africa. Maybe I was already feeling raw, or maybe that triggered it. But I can’t sew. Granted not having a mom is no excuse for that. I can certainly take a class or teach myself, but yesterday, watching all these other women sewing and hearing some talking about getting their moms to help them finish up just hit me HARD. And, being Amanda, I am not good at all at hiding my emotions, so I tearfully packed up my sewing machine, took it to the car, said I was done (and when someone asked if I at least had fun, answered “NO! I did not.”) and proceeded to set up chairs for the next day’s service. Sweetly, two ladies thought they had offended me and came to apologize, and without going in to details, I assured them they did not offend me and that my emotions were not externally influenced at all. It was all me, internal stuff. Basically, I started my Mother’s Day pity party early.
I had my outfit and accessories, including my Mother’s Day heart-with-a-hole necklace, all picked out when I opened my gifts this morning. Elizabeth picked out two nightgowns for me. She wears nightgowns and wants me to, as well, instead of my usual pajama pants and t-shirt. And Caroline picked out a sweet silver necklace — a heart with a heart inside it that says MOM and YOU ARE LOVED on the back. I thought in my mind that I should wear that and it alone to church — let my daughter’s love fill that hole in my heart. Wouldn’t it be nice and neat if I could just close up that hole like that? But I wore both. Maybe another year, but I’m not holding high hopes for that. I can have a perfectly full heart, even with a little hole in it.