I like how sometimes. . .

Don’t you love it when, totally out of your control, things go awry but all the same you can do something about it.  You have an option, a choice to accept the disappointment for what it is and likewise you have the control over your reaction to that disappointment. You always have options and choices.  That is the simplest truth there is.  You always have options and choices!  You are never stuck in an awkward or dysfunctional situation. You can remove yourself from that which is ailing your spirit, your body, your mind.  You can choose to make yourself whole again.

So, as I spoke with my son this morning I had an epiphany of sorts.  My son lives in North Carolina while I am currently across the country in California.  He was telling me about his situation and what steps he was taking to cure  it.  It dawned on me that no matter how grown up we think we are we still need our mothers to tell our stories too.  After talking with him I wanted to pick up the telephone and call my Mamma!  She’s been gone for a few years so, of course, that option is not available but I wanted to call her so badly.  

Calling your mamma is like grabbing a little piece of mind and some warm fuzzy hugs for yourself.  Mom’s are always there even if they are not physically around any longer.  As I said mine is gone for some years now but I can still hear her voice inside my head.  Mamma is actually my step-mother, Marie.  She has (had) an incredible ‘go girl’ attitude.  Momma was simply the best at listening and then speaking her mind.  I never went away from one of those long-distant conversations let down or sad.  She always lifted me up and put things straight in my head which allowed me the clarity to move forward.  Sometimes ya just need your Mamma! 

So, my morning dishing out of some long-distance warm fuzzies to my son made me miss my mamma all the more.  And that is when it hit me.  She may no longer be a telephone call away but I still hear her words in my head.  They have to be there, directly from her because I heard them coming out of my mouth and landing in my son’s ear.  Then it hit me, my epiphany.  My Manna is not gone.  She lives on inside me.  Not such a bad thing.

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