Skip to main content

To All The Moms of Every Kind

It always makes me laugh when a student accidentally calls me mom, especially when they don't catch themselves saying it and they continue on with the conversation as normal.

I am so grateful for my mother, and my husband's mother. These women worked (and continue to work) continuously to nurture, love, kiss and hug, teach and listen, cook and clean, minister and mop as they raised us. I love them.

Today, however, I also want to salute every single woman who has ever loved, nurtured, kissed and hugged, taught and listened, cooked and cleaned, ministered and mopped in my behalf and/or the behalf of any one of God's children. To you, we can proudly and accidentally call mom, and not even bat an eyelash. God bless you for mothering. The world needs women like you!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Problem with Chick Flicks.

I really, really, really enjoy a select few movies that I willingly watch over and over again. Pride and Prejudice is one of them. You see, Elizabeth's defense of her family, her sense of self respect, her ability to admit that she was wrong and to appreciate Darcy despite all his quirks, and quizzical brow-ness... it's marvelous. My husband doesn't share the sentiment, could you tell? ... and that's okay. There's rare a chick flick I enjoy near as much as I enjoy Pride and Prejudice or A Walk To Remember , and I wanted to explain why. You see, there's more than just a few problems with (many, not all) chick flicks:  (and if you have a chick flick that escapes many of these pitfalls then please oh please leave it's title in the comment section!) The heroine (or suitor) is less than honorable. I have a hard time rooting for a girl to get a gentleman when she's spending her time being scandalously loose with other men ( #thenotebook) . An...

Where's Number Three

A neighbor in her mid-thirties. A woman in her seventies. Their single commonality? They both asked me: Where's number three? I have a son, his name Charlie And then McKay, he's not quite three In my heart, both fit perfectly Yet others ask: Where's number three? Perhaps it's that I miscarried, My spouse's infidelity, The ache of infertility, A battle raging mentally, Illness on a crippling spree, Our family is complete, maybe. The reason's one or more of these, Yet you dare ask: Where's number three? In this question, running free Are judgements, jeering icily "You're not enough, Mik, can't you see? Buck up and give us number three!" I used to flounder, squirm, agree Or curl up small, cry, and plead. With time, I've seen things differently. I won't explain for number three. The questions of maternity Are just between my spouse and me And Parents, guiding Heavenly So please don't ask: Where's number three? Artwork Credit: Be...

Three Novels in Progress. Two Blogs. One Writer. A Whole Lot of Shenanigans

Where in the world is Carmen SanDiego? Ahem, I mean Mikayla Johnson? (a wink to any of you 90s kids that remember that show. To be honest, I don't remember more than the show's jingle, but, still . . . good times) So, where can you find my writing?  Some of you beloved readers have found my writing through this blog; you're die–hards that have been around as long as six years. Bless you. You probably noticed that I did a dive-bomb off the blogosphere from 2019 til 2022. Now, contrary to popular belief, I did not stop writing. Rather, I went back to writing novels.  That's where more of you beloved readers found me. Gratefully, I have a wealth of good people who volunteered to beta read my novels and have been coaching and cheerleading me along in that journey. Bless you, too.  Still, more of you have found my writing through social media platforms, a second website ( mikjohnsonwrites.com ), my ENGL 420 class, and beyond. And, of course, I could never forget the handfu...