Recently, my eighty-something-year-old mother has given me a new and thought-provoking idea.
At the end of each of our conversations, she says, ”Darling, thank you for loving me.”
What?
Thanking someone for their love?
Profound.
I must not only accept her gratitude but implement it in my relationships with others.
Love is a precious gift.
Why have I not thanked those who love me?
I suppose I take love for granted.
I am still learning humbling lessons from my lovely mother.
Author: Jana Horton
I write to soothe my soul. I empty my words onto napkins, scraps of paper, receipts... anything really. When I was very young my mom told me to stop writing on my hand.
I never did.
I write on it to this day.
I’ve lost so many scraps of Self on soggy napkins; I’ve yet to lose my hand.
The words I scribble there may wash off, but since they are inscribed in my soul, once they are released, from heart to hand, I am allowed to let them go.
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