On Feeding Imperfectly: Hard-earned Hospitality and Motherhood
Two posts in one week! I know, right?
Today I’m over at sharing about my long-journey into the kitchen and how–though I am not a natural cook–feeding my children has become a liturgy of grace in my life. Not all the good things we spend are lives doing come easy. In fact, plenty of them don’t.
And still, on my son’s “Top 10 Reasons I Love My Mom” list, my willingness to make him dinner was listed twice!
Here’s a little preview. You can read the rest over at .
The Friday before Mother’s Day my second grader came home with a “Top 10 Reasons Why I Love My Mom” note in his hand, one he couldn’t wait until Sunday to give me.
This was one of those fill-in-the-blank, extra generic worksheets with cartoon illustrated smiling kids at the top, one of those pages of homework that will go into his bin of saved second-grade pictures and stories, one that serve as an artifact of a moment in time, when the child I’m raising wrote about the mother he knew more deeply than any other human on this earth, but only the me at this moment. Only the me who mothers him.
Some answers he got just right, exactly as I hope he’ll remember me. “I love my mom because she reads me Lord of the Rings,” number 10 says. (I love myself for that, too.)
“I love my mom because she taught me how to read.” (Yes!)
“I love to hear my mom sing Reptill Song” (also known as “Reptile Song,” my own invention, thank you very much.)
And then there are the other answers. “I know my mom is smart because she knows multiplication.” (Ha! Of all the things that *might* make me smart, my math skills are not among them!)
“I know my mom cares because she makes dinner for me.”
“I love my mom because she works so hard at dinner.”
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