I’ve had three mothers at Christmas, in my life.
Like the Three Wise Men, each mother had a different precious gift they carried along to offer. These gifts were not for a child as invested in hope and wonder as the one we think of as being born on Christmas Eve. The gifts they offered were for their own children – imperfect though those children may have been in actuality or in promise.
One mother was my own. One was the mother of the first man I married. And one was the mother of the second man I took a chance on marrying.
Yet they were my mothers, too.
I was lucky in that way.
I’ll tell you about their gifts, the gifts each one offered for this season. Each one was so very different.
This will be a Christmas story. Of some sort.
I wonder if any of you will recognize yourself (or your own mother) in my three mothers.
(To read further, click on Part Two here)