Why Mornings?8I’m not naturally neat and tidy. I’m passionate about people,
and I absolutely love cheering on others. If I were standing
next to you right now, I’d be whisper- cheering, “You can do
this! I’m so proud of you! Keep reading! Go, you!” I might
even be holding a big sign or banner with your name on it.
Think “adorkable” rather than “stalkerish.”
I started being intentional about my mornings after mar-
riage and family filled my days. This isn’t a mom book, but I
have to tell you: the way my life has unfolded is a core part of
the story God has written for me. He has woven redemption
and restoration into my years in unexpected ways. And all
along this bumpy road, I’ve felt His hand on the small of my
back, gently leading me at each turn. I’ll share some of those
twists and turns because my motherhood story and my morn-
ing story are inextricably woven together. I pray you’ll find
hope for your story and vision for your mornings.
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Her name was Cristina, and she was beautiful. She had an
olive complexion, brown Filipina eyes, and a petite frame.
She could sing like an angel. She was my mother. She loved
Jesus and my daddy, and I’ve been told she loved me too. I’d
like to think so. But I never heard her say it— at least not that
I remember, because just nine months after I came into the
world, her illness- ridden body left it.
Motherhood was always a mystery to me. What was it like
to call someone Mom? To see her eyes light up? To call her
name and have her comfort me when I was sad or sick? To say
it with entitled ingratitude knowing my emotions were safe