My family knows me. They know what it takes to adequately express something to me. "Write the words," I used to say, as I placed the pen and card in front of them. "Tell them how you feel, what they mean to you." "Let them know, I told them, "don't just sign your name. Anyone can put a name, but you can add details, encouragement and feelings with your words." I'm sure they rolled their eyes when I wasn't looking, but they wrote the notes. And now, I reap the benefits. How could I know this would be the outcome? I thought they'd just be polite adults, knowing how to say thank you or happy birthday. But yesterday I, once again, opened cards with words inside that were rich, deep and meaningful. I savored each delicious word, tasting and relishing delightfully the kindness and love enveloped within every single sentence.
A phone call came with some dear spoken words, adding to the pleasure of the day. "I love you. I'm glad you're my mom."
So I can sit back, satisfied and delighted as though I've just finished a gourmet meal. I am full to the brim with thankfulness and a humble heart, known and loved by the ones I love the most...my family.