To celebrate Mother’s Day, my mom and I went out for lunch together–just the two of us. Although I see my mom every week, we rarely have leisure to sit and talk. So it was a treat to while away the afternoon at one of our favorite restaurants while Daddy and Opa took care of the kids.

Before we left, we snapped a picture–and I forgot to stand in front of that black shingle on the garage door:

I love talking to my mom. And I’m not alone; I have long observed that she is the kind of person to whom many people bring their burdens and their stories. She has the rare gift of listening attentively.   I think that her calm way of listening encourages confidences far more than if she tried to force them.  The attempt to pry out a person’s thoughts can drive him away; but my mom’s warmth draws people to her.

And she has a deft knack with children–she is ever delighted, seldom surprised, kindly firm, and present. She has always made room beside her for those who want to gain new experiences, small though those people may be.

Miss E thought helping with the electric mixer was the coolest. Making anything with children is a daunting prospect to me, but my mom always makes room and takes the time required. I want to be more like her.

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