“Today was Christmas cookie day. And even though I woke up sick, still gonna give this boy memories of Mom baking cookies and listening to Christmas music every year… because I didn’t have that.”
That line right there stopped me in my tracks.
Not because of cookies.
Not because of Christmas music.
But because of the decision inside it.
This is wisdom lived, not spoken.
Grace with hands.
Love that shows up even when it would be easier not to.
When someone doesn’t receive something as a child and still chooses to give it forward—intentionally, tenderly—that is not accidental love. That is conscious love. That is healing love.
I’ve watched this with my daughters.
All of them.
Women who became what they once needed.
Women who didn’t let absence turn into bitterness, but into presence.
That kind of mothering doesn’t come from perfection.
It comes from awareness.
From courage.
From a heart that says, “It ends here—and something better begins.”
This is what Christmas looks like to me.
Showing up.
Creating warmth.
Building memories that will quietly outlive the moment.
And if you’ve ever wondered whether small things matter—
this is your answer.
They matter.
They last.
They become someone’s foundation.
“Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it.”
— Proverbs 22:6
What we choose to give becomes the story our children remember.
And maybe this is what Christmas really is.
Not what’s under the tree,
but what gets planted because of it.
A mother choosing presence over comfort.
A child receiving what love looks like when it stays.
A legacy written quietly, one faithful moment at a time.
This is how love outlives us.
This is how motherhood echoes forward.
This is how Christmas keeps going long after the cookies are gone.
For Cortney, My Bonus Daughter. I didn’t get to carry you in my womb—yet the gift of carrying you within my heart. What an honor. what a blessing. I love you, and the mother you are.
With a deep gratitude for all who choose presence, and love on purpose—and too, with a prayer that your Christmas be embraced in warmth of heart.
—Tina N. Campbell | Scribed in Light
Scribed In Light 
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