When people who don't know the meaning of the word "care" are in charge, the world can be a dangerous place. But when people who do care stand up and shout, it's on all of us to shout with them.
There's so much to say, and then there's this.
Mom in the Mail is a labor of love for me, and it has been ever since I started. I'm so honored to be entrusted with keeping people connected to each other, and if you could only see the wonderful messages and notes and drawings and hugs that we tuck into these packages with the cookies, it would literally melt your heart, as it does mine all the time. Over the past several months, these messages have become even more poignant, as I've sent cookies for birthdays people couldn't be together for, for graduations celebrated in front of a video screen, and for remembrances of people whose loved ones could not be with them at the end. We've sent treats to relieve boredom and to be sure that the Easter Bunny could still come in the time of COVID-19. But when my son, my Black son, asked me to send cookies to his friend's mom, and told me why, I cried. And then I baked. And then this came in the mail.
You go, Mike's Mom. And I'll be right there with you.
Mike's Mom is a pastor at St. John’s Church. You can see her first-hand account of being tear-gassed for a photo op in the image, below, taken with permission from her facebook page.
