Losing It by Cori Salchert, mom of eight

When I was pregnant with my third baby and very hormonal, I spent most of my days chasing around an almost 2-year-old boy who never walked, only ran. I also had a 3-year-old daughter who had some speech difficulties. Sarah called her younger brother “baby” for a couple of years until I told her he was a little boy now. She then switched to calling out, “Hey boy, come here” whenever she wanted him. Despite her best efforts (and mine), her speech difficulties remained.

"I know now
she wasn’t being
disobedient or rebellious."

One evening I lost it. When she responded, “kanku” instead of “thank you” I decided to take matters into my own hands. Her speech wasn’t good enough and I was going to straighten her out here and now. “Say,  ‘Thank you!’” I repeated louder. Intimidated, she drew in a breath and carefully replied, “kanku.” It grieves me to admit I went back and forth with her for a good 15 minutes – she in tears and me insisting she say it correctly – before my husband intervened.

All but one of our kids experienced speech struggles. And I grew more comfortable with how to lovingly mother them through those challenges. But I still wince when I remember that encounter with Sarah. At 23, Sarah has no recollection of this incident, but I still asked her forgiveness the other night. I know now she wasn’t being disobedient or rebellious. I simply expected something from her she was unable to give. I’m grateful for not only her forgiveness, but also my ability to grow and change as a mother.

Dear Lord, be with me in all my “nexts.” From one day to the next, show me how to love large and loosely, and please never let go of my hand. Amen.  

The Graduate by Andrea Jones, mom of three

I couldn’t contain my tears. I was undone. There was my 5-year-old daughter, Alyssa, in her preschool cap and gown. I received the photo in a text message from my husband, taken during her photo shoot at school, and graduation was just two weeks away.
It seemed like yesterday that I’d stopped nursing her. Days at the park spent urging her up the slide and then back down. Memories of our “explorations” on the Highline Canal collecting rocks, leaves and other “clues” flooded my mind. I smiled, thinking of the two days after her birth. I slept with her next to me in my hospital bed, just me and my red, wrinkly little girl. My graduate was “a big girl now,” and I couldn’t contain my emotions.  

"She was filled with
excitement, wonder and fear
all at the same time."

She’s worried about her new school, kindergarten, new friends and if her new teacher will love her as much as her current one does. She whined for the past week before her annual physical and booster shots she needed to get before school started. She was filled with excitement, wonder and fear all at the same time. Hmm … I know how she feels.


She’s ready. Ready to tackle the responsibilities of calendar duty, plant keeper, snack organizer and whatever else kindergarten can throw her way. Yet, here I am, fighting back tears, realizing my tomorrow is here.
I feel as if this is the first time I’ve had to let something go and move into a new season. Seasons change, and the next certainly will become our now. To my graduate! Mommy is proud, and I will love you forever! 

Dear Lord, be with me in all my “nexts.” From one day to the next, show me how to love large and loosely, and please never let go of my hand. Amen.