“Shall those lips speak in the years on-coming?
O, child of mine, with waxen brow,
Surely your words of that dim to-morrow
Rapture and power and grace must borrow
From the poignant love and holy sorrow
Of the heart that shrines and cradles you now!”

My Dear Mr. M: Letters to G.B. MacMillan from L.M. Montgomery

Happy Friday Friends!

My week has been full with open windows, singing birds, the scent of jasmine, and fresh cut grass. Dinner on the deck with my Sweet Man, Lola snoozing on the chaise lounge. Laundry, hung outside to dry.

May in the south is stunning.

Friday is date day with my Sweet Man. I am counting down the minutes, waiting for him to waltz through the door, whisking me away.

In the waiting, I am joining Kate Motaung and others for Five Minute Friday, where a community of writers come together, writing five minutes (YIKES!) on a one word prompt.

Today’s word: MOM 


Before I share the words that skittered across my heart, I want to pay tribute to my Mom.


You are a woman of both grit and grace. You raised us well through circumstances that were gritty and hard. Fractured. And yet, you loved us with a mighty fierceness. No matter the instability, you were a rock. Solid, dependable, vulnerable, the perfect balance of hard and soft. A fighter. You gave us the gift of laughter in the hard edges of life. I cherish that. I cherish you. I am blessed with your love, blessed to have a bit of your grit and grace. I love you to the moon and back. I thank God for you everyday. Through your love I am blessed. I am more. I am better.

Happiest of Mother’s Day to you, from your favorite daughter (smile) 

I think of another who long ago wept at the foot of the cross. A young, virgin mother. The mom who held her babe and looked into the eyes of God. How many prayers she must have prayed. What treasures were in her heart as she swept his hair from his face. Did she have a knowing of the tears she would shed? That her time on earth with her child was fleeting?

To you, the Mom, who may be wiping noses and tears. Kissing boo boos, applying bandages, pouring yourself empty into precious hearts, this time is fleeting. This. Time. Is. Fleeting. Breathe it in. Let go of every should have and doubt you may have.

Keep plowing through the messy hard, treasuring each fleeting moment.

Above all, at the end of the day, in the quiet, fall to your knees. Fall into the place of holy mothering. Praying over each life He has entrusted you with.

Gifts of Grace 

PS: I’m blessed to serve you in this place, to share with you the Gifts of Grace as I journey through the wilderness. I picture you across the table, hands wrapped tightly around your cup, sharing life, and laughter, and tears. As I share with you my own daily struggles, I long to hear what yours may be. Sharing the realness of life. You can do that by commenting below or reaching out to me here.

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PSS: In case you missed it:

“What Makes Me Cry: Living With Chronic Illness” 

This FaceBook Live

Annie F. Downs Podcast with guest Steven Curtis Chapman