A New Name

They were always lined up in a row at the foot of my bed. My babies {or dolls}. I was born with a deep-down need to nurture. Experiences burned a desire to make sure any child in my path knew what it is to be mothered well. It started with my dolls.  I loved Cabbage Patch kids because they were adopted.  They came with a certificate that said they needed me.  I still remember their names.  There was Paula with the cornsilk hair, April had freckles, Noreen that could go in the pool and tub with me and Addie, my first African-American daughter. I say first because a special thing took place for our family on Monday. Miss S. had long ago woven herself into the fabric of our family.  She came to us needing a mama {and a daddy} that she could count on, consistent rules and unconditional … [Read more...]

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