A sunny Portland morning is a powerful thing — leaves glowing new and drab things sparkling like jewels.

A sunny Portland morning can remind me of all I enjoy that is grace like glorious warmth and rays on skin. Dear mamas of our own to hold close. Cards and flowers and words that say I am loved, appreciated, seen. Unexpected hugs around my waist and flowers tucked above rounded ears.

A sunny Portland morning bubbles up prayers for treasured women in my life — mothers all, whether all the world knows it — who speak different languages of nurture. Those who abide in tears, affirm dreams, send and speak love words, smile and embrace, share coffee and truth, listen long. Women who speak for the voiceless, cup faces and pray and affirm that you are valuable.

This sunny morning, I am thanking God for all the women who touch child and grown-up lives, teaching and tending, guiding and giving, loving until it hurts, and then loving more, and are changed.

This morning as the sun hits full in my face, I am praying for all of you. That you would not only know the love you give, but the love that is yours — warm, full and unending — and so be changed.

If you haven’t read my post Mother labor, mother art from earlier in the year, maybe you’d want to receive those words this morning, too, as another tribute to the powerful love of mamas.

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