About a year ago, God began nudging me about my relationships with the mothers in my life. I am the oldest child, born fiercely independent with a natural mothering instinct (read bossy, protective, and at times overly nurturing). During my growing up years, I always wound the “mom” of my peer group, with little siblings, neighbors, or friends marching behind me.
This is one of those times I would much rather sit across from you face to face. I’d rather you were able to hear the tone of my voice, that my facial expression could speak deeper and truer than just words. Because this topic feels so tender to me lately. Disappointment has been an unexpected guest in our house for the last couple months and I was tempted to feel isolated in it. But then I started talking it out. After a few different conversations I realized every single one of us is dealing with disappointment in some way or another.