When a good thing - motherhood-  becomes the ultimate thing, we become idolaters.

This confusion over the basis of identity has raised many questions for mothers. What does it mean to be a mother? Is it only a role I play? Is it a part or all of who or what I am? What happened to the me that was me before I was a mother? Am I good at it? Will I find fulfillment in it? Is this why I am significant? 

It wasn’t their fault, but it felt very unfair. It would be another two years before everyone was together again. I was pouring out this story along with all my hurt as I clutched the handles of the shopping cart. 

What is the hardest act of sacrificial love that is asked of a mother? To let her children go.