and of appreciating what my mother has to offer, instead of getting worked up about what kind of mother she isn’t.

My mother will not budge a millimeter on meals at family gatherings, and if my sweetie and I want to come it’s always byo-Thanksgiving-dinner. But she does find vegetarian and vegan recipes somewhere, copy them by hand onto index cards, and mail them to me. Regularly. They have been piling up for years. I must have 50 or so in a drawer somewhere.

But looking at index cards isn’t part of my cooking process, the recipes she sends never sound that exciting, and I have no idea where they came from. Recipes from the Moosewood Low-Fat Favorites cookbook, on the other hand, I know are going to be healthy and delicious. So I just cook on my own. I have yet to make a recipe my mother has sent me.

I think it would be great to make something my mother sent me, and tell her so. They can’t all be as bad as I’m imagining they are. Who knows, maybe one will become a new favorite!

What kind of message am I sending the universe if I refuse the love my mother is offering me, just because it doesn’t come in the package I expected it in?