The other day, I was cleaning out magazines to give to a nursing home–I have a LOT of magazines, I’m not sure how or why–and so I was zipping through them. And then I came to an O Magazine and it literally flipped open to a page. I figured that was a sign and so I quickly skimmed and immediately knew what I needed to see:

I almost fell down from the power of those words, too. Not because I didn’t know this, but because I too often forget this: I am the loving expression of God. And so are my children, and so are my friends, and all of you readers, and even all of those people out there that I may not agree with on a pretty regular basis.

And I wonder if I’ve forgotten this because my mother and father are no longer around to remind me. Not that Mom and Dad said this to me…well, ever. But still, the way they loved me expressed those words to me every single day. A most beautiful gift, indeed.

I hope my children know that they are the loving expression of God. And I hope that I can remember that the next time a teenage driver cuts me off in traffic.

(Happy Mother’s Day in whatever way that wonderful word applies to each of you!)

(Also, thank you to Imbolo Mbue, author of Behold the Dreamers, for sharing that reminder. And just like that, I know I will read this novel.)