By Lani Sheldon
Published: May 7, 2015
I was leaving the grocery store on a Sunday morning. Cart overflowing with the usual suspects: toilet paper, cheese, and an assortment of items my three year old decided to add to the stash. By now she has become a fairly proficient assistant shopper, and we were chatting away as we pushed our cart through the parking lot.
Haley Lorraine Photography
An elderly gentlemen with a thick Eastern-European accent approached me from behind.
“She is a verrry lucky little girl.”
Me: “Oh?”
“She has a very nice and kind mother.”
With a smile and a nod, he was gone. It was such a small, brief encounter. At first I was so dumbfounded, I was suspicious. My first reaction was to question if he was being sarcastic. I quite often feel proud of my children, but it is rare that I feel proud of myself as a mother. However in that brief moment, I did.
I do not know who this man was, nor do I think he understood what a profound effect his words had on me. It may take a village to raise a child, but it takes a community to raise a mother. For that, I thank you.
