I’m a self-professed, unpaid people watcher, evidence gatherer, and dot connector, so I LOVE to notice nuance—those details that might otherwise go unnoticed. To me, something as simple as a snapshot is a treasure trove.


I was a little detail that, but for my mom, I could have “gone unnoticed.”  She noticed me, she said, “Yes, I’d like to be that little detail’s momma.”


Because of the pandemic, I’m not sure when I’ll get to hug my mom again and so, like many of us, I will have to settle for a phone call on Sunday. I don’t know how many more Mother’s Days I will have with her, but I’m thankful for the phone call.


This snapshot is a “treasure trove” I posted on Facebook this time last year when I was up at my mom’s visiting for Mother’s Day. I wrote it moments after we had walked across the parking lot and onto the sidewalk to her hair appointment. (When I spoke with her yesterday morning, I asked her how her hair was looking and she said, “I dunno, but every morning when I get up, dad tells me I look great, so…”)




“I’m three-years-old and you can barely see me, but I couldn’t love this photo more. My new(ish) mommy is holding my hand as she’s leading me in lockstep across the lawn after church. She’s smiling that famously warm smile. In her other hand, she’s carrying a pair of white gloves, and I can’t help but wonder why she’d taken them off. Maybe she did so that while I rested my head on her lap at church that day, she could run her bare fingers across my forehead and along my temple, and play with my wispy blond hair. She told me she loved me through those fingertips. She told me then, and she tells me now–even today, so many years later—as we walked along the sidewalk, she squeezed my bare hand with hers and with that soft touch she said I love you.”