A tiny voice at her bedside whispered, “I had a bad dream”. Opening her eyes, she held out her arms and helped her little one into bed with her. As he snuggled and fell fast asleep, she ran through a list of things the coming day held.

After waiting for her little fashionista to choose the day’s clothes, then change her mind – twice – she helped the parts of getting dressed that little hands could not quite manage. A glance at her watch told her there would be just enough time for a dawdling breakfast and another change of clothes before preschool.

She pulled her jacket closer as she watched tee-ball practice on a cold May morning. The excitable players threw balls that managed to land halfway to their destination, swing bats at a batting tee, and run as fast a short legs could carry them. She opened her large bag to doublecheck the after-game snacks she had brought. Yes, there would be just enough.

An irritated voice shouted from the bedroom. Her heart wanted to give way, but she stood her ground. Make-up at this age would pave the path for the next life step to be premature. The morning promised a sullen breakfast and silent car ride to school.

Tears and despair. She’d heard stories about this particular class. Leaning over, she asked, “Could you do it this way?” NO! came the hopeless answer. Why was math even a thing?

Car lights shown down the street as she watched them light the late night dark. They passed by the house. It wasn’t her. She sat down again. She was glad the Good Lord never slept and that He was up at this time of night as she prayed over her fears. Car lights flashed on the wall and the sound of a car in the driveway diminished her worry. She picked up a book and pretended to be engrossed in it as her child crossed the threshold on the dot of curfew.

“Remember, stop if you get too tired. It’s a long trip.” Her son gave her a goodbye hug. She could feel his college road trip excitement and held back her tears until his car disappeared down the street.

“Mom? I just thought I’d call and wish you a Happy Mother’s Day. Sorry I’m late! Did you do anything special?”

Anything special? She pondered the question. No. Nothing special at all.

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