How do you nurture when you’ve never been nurtured?

It’s not easy, it turns out.

It is intentional.

I grew up with a mother who was not conventional.

She was not one to give affection. Hugs and “I love you’s” didn’t happen.

I cannot remember the last time I heard I love you…until I was 50 and pressed it on Mother’s Day.

The middle child, the only girl, was a lonely place to grow up.

I searched for God, a reason to live, from as long as I can remember.

My earliest memories were seeking a higher power to love me.

As a nine year old, having traipsed on foot to church, I lay in my bedroom and wanted to give up.

What child wants to give up?

It was then I heard an inner voice urging me to keep going.

Over 4 decades later, I remember that day.

Keep going.

As I face the demons that have tried to snuff me out since I was a toddler, I am terrified, determined, and angry, all at the same time.

As an adult, God was my constant – and me, I was a very unworthy servant, trying to learn what I didn’t know, and heal from things yet to be discovered.

Mother’s Day has always been complicated.

It still is.

My own kids are adults now.

I love them with an intensity that cannot be explained, and with a lifetime trying to express.

May they have mercy on their very frail, tender hearted, though tough exterior Mama.