spark

I think Norah's biggest love language right now is gifts. I felt a twinge of sorrow at first, because gifts are lowest on my love language scale, but that was of course because my definition was both too narrow and shallow.

The reason it is apparent is because: nearly every plaything, piece of clothing, or food begets her question, "Who gave this to me?" and then a story follows about the person who gave it to her. "Oh, Nana gave this to me!" "This was my birthday present from Lowell!" "Brenda brought me this from China!" "Papa built this for me." My own Precious Gift thus reminds me to consider the importance of giving and receiving.* I want to be like her in my exuberance of thanksgiving.

For my third mother's day, Brett gave me red cookware coinciding with my month to paint the kitchen. Norah got to play with five fluffy 4-week-old kittens. We joined Brett's sister, mother, and grandma for dinner. The day had drizzly, sunny, and windy moments, and I reflected on the great privilege of being a mother, and am so grateful for the legacy I have inherited.

"I know God won't give me anything I can't handle. I just wish he didn't trust me so much."

-Mother Teresa

*Marketers are cunning as well: Norah distinctly remembers and asks to go to the stores that give her suckers, stickers, or balloons.