My best friend for fifty years is the real communicator in our marriage.
When our children were in school, she hand wrote wisdom quotes and placed them in their lunches. She scratched their backs at night while hearing their every concern. Today she keeps in touch with their children by phone, text, cards, and gifts. She wrote and published a picture book—Nani and Papa Can, Can You?—modeling for our grandkids healthy behaviors they might wish to practice. She is as good a mother and ‘Nani’ as our little kingdom could hope for.
Some faiths revere a Heavenly Father, the Creator of our spirits. Some envision a Heavenly Mother as our Co-Creator. Writing of the eternities, the nineteenth century poet Eliza R. Snow reasoned, “Truth eternal tells me I’ve a mother there.”
Does She slip handwritten notes into our inner soul? Shower us with gifts not seen but surely felt? Does She long to scratch our back and hear our every dream? Mourn on our birthday the moment we left Her embrace?
Do we, ineffably, subliminally, eternally, miss Her in return?
Author’s Note. This entry is an archive of an Instagram post at @TheHousteps on January 16, 2025.
