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I still remember the basket. I was the first one to answer the door. “Is your mother home?” the man asked. “Just a minute,” I replied. I ran to get my mom. “We’d like to give this basket to you and your family. It’s from the church.” All of that for us? I couldn’t believe it. “That’s very kind of you, but I’m sure there’s someone who needs it more than we do,” said my mom. I never gave the basket much thought after we closed the door. I had all I needed: warm food, warm bed, a house full of siblings and loving parents.

Thank-you for my mom who taught me to take joy in what I already have.

Thank-you for my husband who completes me, and for my daughters who are kind and beautiful and who remind me every day that being a mom is a gift.

Thank-you for my older sister and my six younger brothers, my sister-in-laws and brother-in laws, nieces and nephews, and cousins; each a fiber in a tapestry of love.

Thank-you for my hands that work the soil, my eyes that notice the velvety mounds of moss, my ears that hear the cooing of morning doves, the taste of spring peas I grew myself, and the deep inside feeling of bliss I get each time I’m in the garden.

And Thank-you for my readers; who take the time to read my words.