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(Guest writer-mama # 2, Lindsay Eland, is the author of Scones and Sensibility. I believe this is one of the times where less of an intro is more, so I'll be quiet now and get to her lovely words...)



To all the mothers buried under mounds of laundry and dishes and homework

To all the mothers that kiss their kids good-bye…sending them off to school, to college, to their own families, to war

To all the mothers whose hearts have ached at every scraped knee, every broken heart, every good-bye

To all the mothers who have worried and prayed and stayed up until the car pulls into the driveway…no matter how late the clock struck

To all the mothers who aren’t the same in the mirror as they were before…but who are so much more beautiful and full of life and wonder and love because of having a child
To all the mothers who have a hidden lion underneath their soft skin and gentle touch…a ferocious love that doesn’t go away or diminish as time goes on

To all the mothers who do it all alone—the cooking and cleaning and crying and loving

To all the mothers who have taken children who aren’t their own and sewn them into their hearts forever


To all the mothers who loved their child enough to give them a better chance

To all the mothers that have cried over the babies that left them too early but were loved a lifetime over

To all the mothers still dreaming dreams

To all the mothers reawakening old dreams

To all the mothers laughing or crying, singing or skipping, reading or sleeping, old or young or in-between…

Happy Mother’s Day!


(You can visit Lindsay at http://lindsayeland.com/)

Yesterday I was talking to a dear friend who mentioned that her friend from college had just had a little baby girl and they named her Story.

Story.

What a beautiful name.

A name that’s full of dragons and princesses, knights and hobbits, wizards and animals, wardrobes and attics, fairies and vampires, beauty and goodness, darkness and evil, truth and light.

I can hardly think of a more magical name for a little girl just coming into a world full to the brim and overflowing with stories.

And now she’s just starting her own story of life. Taking breaths and wailing and staring in wonder at the amazing world around her. A world where she is bound to meet up with dragons and princesses, knights and hobbits, wardrobes and attics, wizards and animals, fairies and vampires, beauty and goodness, darkness and evil, truth and light.

And those last two: truth and light, those are the things that stories do best. They illuminate truth and they emit light so that we can see and understand life and people in a new way. And when we turn the last page of a book that has become a dear friend to us over 300 pages, that story allows us to breath again and to stare in wonderment at the amazing world for the first time all over again—just like a girl named Story.

And I wonder what truth and what light the girl named Story will illuminate in the world as she grows? I do hope that one day I will meet her.

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Buzz was our first dog.

We lived in Punxatawney, Pennsylvania when we got our first family dog–a border collie, springer spaniel mutt that we named Maxwell Buzby (after the Beatle’s song) and shortened to just Buzz. I remember I was in first grade and had just gotten out of school when I first peered over the seat in our station wagon and saw his little puppy face looking up at me.

He was a good dog. He barked insistently at these red snoopy mittens my sister’s and I had, he always held the leash in his mouth when we went on a walk, and he peed on our Christmas tree one year.

Buzz died eighteen years after that afternoon in the station wagon—after I had graduated high school and college, gotten married, moved to Colorado, and had kids of my own. My dad buried him under a rock on his favorite hike up in Bear Meadows State Forest and we all cried at the loss.

Buzz was as much a part of the family as any of us and he’s there, in the background, of almost all of the memories I have of growing up.

We have a dog of our own now named Cowboy. He’s a big, oafy Weimeraner with floppy ears, a stumpy tail, and a deep gruff bark. We adopted him from a rescue when he was two, mud on his coat, and a few of his ribs showing. He’d been caught as a stray when he was young, then adopted into two different homes in two years only to be given up both times.

He came into our family with his own personality, hang-ups, issues, and baggage…but he’s fit in perfect cause we like his personality, can understand his hang-ups, laugh at some of his issues, and relate to the baggage…since we all have our own set of suitcases we cart around through life with us.

Cowboy gets nervous in new places, he hates being left behind, he has an obsessive hatred towards foxes, loves to ride in the car, abhors the rain, barks at the words “here kitty-kitty” and “superdog,” he loves being babied, and hefts his 75 lb self onto the couch and curls up every time we leave without him…we know this cause he leaves a nice indentation in the cushions.

Sometimes I think about what his life must’ve been like before us. Where he got the scar on his left leg, and what it must’ve been like to not understand why you were dropped off at a shelter two times before you found a home.

But good old Cowboy is a part of our family now just as much as the rest of us and I smile to think of all the memories my kids will have of him when they’re older and he passes away.

And hopefully that baggage he’s carrying around–the one that makes him nervous and upset about being left behind–feels a little bit lighter for him every day.

And there’s not really a point to this post…just some thoughts on those creatures that we take into our home and become a part of our family in so many ways.

But for all the animal-loving middle grade readers and adults out there that love dogs as much as I do, here’s some books that I’ve loved reading over the years and more recently.

Sounder by William H. Armstrong

Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawls

Shiloh by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor

Dog Lost by Ingrid Lee

Because of Winn-Dixie by Kate Dicamillo

A Dog’s Life by Ann M. Martin

Each Little Bird That Sings by Deborah Wiles

And if you are ever thinking about adopting a dog or cat into your family, go to your local animal shelter or rescue, or visit The Humane Society website to learn more on adopting.

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