For The Warm Bag At The Door

Mom, I still remember you coming home from work with Chick-fil-A for me — tenders, waffle fries, a large lemonade, and all the sauces, BBQ, honey mustard, and Polynesian. It was such a simple thing, but I can still feel what it meant when that warm bag came through the door.

Back then I probably just thought about the food. Now I understand it differently. You were tired from your own day and still thinking about me in that exact, loving way. That kind of care stays with a son longer than he knows at the time.

Today, while you are in this slow healing season, I am praying that care comes back around you gently. No rushing, no pressure. Just rest, protection, steady healing, and the deep reminder that you are loved as your whole self. I love you so much, Mom.