feature gratitude grief

robin’s nest and three perfect eggs

It was about a week after my mom’s funeral that I walked onto my back porch.

It had been at least 10 days since my feet last touched those cedar boards. Then, I had been a different person and my mom was still alive. But now everything had changed. I had joined the family of motherless children.

Now I forget why I was out there, but I looked over at the grapevine wreath my mom had made me a few years ago. It’s all crazy with twigs sticking out and leaves from last fall caught in its branches. I love it for its wild unruliness. Resting on the inner circle of the wreath, a mama robin had built a nest and inside that perfect container….three exquisite blue eggs huddled together.

I couldn’t help but think about me and my two brothers. Little did I know within a few days, my dad would discover a cardinal’s nest, my oldest brother a family of baby ducks under a bush in his front yard, and my little brother a nest of finches in a wreath mom made for his front door.

Mom was speaking to all of us and reminding us not only does life go on, but even in the emptiness and sorrow, new life was being born – again and again…around us, in us, through us, because of her and her deep motherly love for us all.

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