Moms are almost always surrounded by people. In fact, if you have little ones, you probably don’t even get to go to the bathroom alone. Yet talk to many moms- especially moms with young children – and most will admit they suffer from loneliness.
Our world is full of acquaintances we have convinced ourselves are friends. They are there to chat with while waiting for your kids or online exchanging stories of the fun things their kids are doing. Yet what most of us moms are longing for are those friends who know all of our quirks, but love us anyway. Who love us enough to hold us accountable when we aren’t being who God wants us to be. Who will walk with us down this motherhood path.
I was interested when offered a chance to review The Gift of Friendship: Stories That Celebrate the Beauty of Shared Moments
We’ve all been there. Or at least I have been there. No matter how much time, effort, prayer and love you put into parenting, there are days you feel like a failure. Even if you love being a mother more than anything in the world, there will be days you wish you were the kid again. It doesn’t really matter the cause, because often there isn’t one glaring thing. Sometimes the lack of sleep, having to instruct your child how to do or not do something for the thousandth time or having a house full of sick people just makes you want to crawl up in a little ball and cry.
In 
John Quincy Adams is a little known American President. Other than being the son of President John Adams, most of us know nothing about him. It’s a shame, because I think the Adam’s knew the secret to raising a mature son. (I can’t speak to how godly he was as historians tend to have little interest in such matters.) Don’t believe me?
When our daughter was a baby, she was gifted at removing her socks. And shoes. Actually anything on her feet. Give her two seconds and they were gone. For some reason, this bothered women over the age of sixty. You would have thought a barefoot baby…in a stroller…indoors was the definition of child neglect. The lectures I got were unbelievable. I am sure they meant well, but honestly socks on a baby’s feet (or mine either for that matter) were never a high priority.