Still.

Someone once told me that the best gift a daughter can give her mother on Mother’s Day is a heartfelt letter filled with all of the reasons why she loves her. The advice was to put specific memories of her into a letter, and include lessons she had taught you – and not hold back one tiny bit. Somehow though, the Saturday before Mother’s Day, I typically find myself scrambling to put an amazing gift together for her – complete with a pretty bag with tons of colorful tissue paper coming out the top. Just a card? That doesn’t seem nearly enough for all she has done for me. So, I usually buy her something I would like for myself always hopeful she will open it and say, “Oh! Amy! This is just perfect! I have been wanting this very thing!” Truth is, my mom has never been a lover of things. Instead, she is a lover of kind, sincere words – and cards on Mother’s Day. So this Mother’s Day, I will do my best to tell her, in my most sincere effort, how much I loved her then and love her now.


Being her daughter is a joy, and having her as my mother is a gift.

God knew I needed her the day I was born, as I lay in her arms, looked up at her face and heard her familiar voice. He knew I needed her on my first day of school, wearing my deep pink corduroy jump suit, setting off to independence. He knew I needed her on all those days of doctor appointments, surgeries, hospital stays, and solutions. God knew I needed her when I moved away to college and missed my everything -- everyday. He knew I needed her enthusiasm when I called home and told her all about how much I was loving college, just like she did. He knew I needed her when I found love, and shared with her why I wanted to marry. God knew I needed her when Hayden was born and I found motherhood, and then again with Emma. He knew I needed her to be excited for me when I said we wanted another one, and he knew I needed her when Maggie arrived. God knew that I needed my mom. From the very beginning. Just like she needed her mother, and before her, my Grandma needed hers. And so it goes, and so it is. Still. As time began, and as time moves forward, daughters need their mothers -- and mothers need their daughters. Still.