It is the day before my Mother’s 81st birthday…
if anyone knows about the trials, tribulations, and joys of living with Greg — she does.
i have a vivid memory of my mom, angry face with wooden spoon in hand, heading my way with intent to kill, our at least severely wound. and her chasing me around the dining-room table… same spoon, same intent—might have been a different time. 🙂
i also have a vivid memory of my mom telling me that the miracle was not only possible—it was happening. and it did.
Margie Fincham moved to Nicaragua a couple of years ago: it is her home. Her heart is clearly there — and clearly with her family, too.
i am still learning to love her; and grateful that she is still her for me to learn from in person.