Tribute fail
I’m glad for the good times and the homemaking skills, the little songs she sang us, the silliness and the ethics. Her years of patience.
I’m glad for the good times and the homemaking skills, the little songs she sang us, the silliness and the ethics. Her years of patience.
Rachel Zimmerman writes, “I am a mother, after all. When the ‘secondary infertility’ phrase rolls off my tongue, I often feel like a fraud.”
Anna Martin writes, “As fall faded into winter, I crossed the halfway date in pregnancy. But the pounds piled up faster than the weeks.”
I feel responsible for the discussion that happens here. I am the moderator, and this is my space. However, I am caught in something of a dilemma.
Being an Anabaptist woman, while fulfilling, presents certain challenges: such as where to buy good fabric and what to do with your long hair.
This applies to more than friendships with women. It applies to marriage, child-raising, and all manner of things. People are what you believe them to be.
You wouldn’t believe how much talk time fits around chores, and conversely, how the work flies with a friend. But you’ll have to let it be a little messy.
What is wrong with me if she doesn’t like me? What does she say behind my back? Why am I always the instigator?
Is it possible to hold too high a standard in forming friendships? How do you know if you are?
Today my friendships feel rich, though sometimes spread too thin. But these are the stories I think of when I hear yours.