There’s no place like home. Except Grandma’s house.
As I sat down to write for Mother’s Day, my thoughts kept circling back to two unexpected places: the lives of my grandmothers.
I had two really good ones. And the older I get, the more I’m struck by how much they had in common, despite being from opposite worlds.
One was a city girl, raised in Topeka, Kansas. She attended the magnificent Topeka High School, a breathtaking example of gothic architecture. She walked its grand halls in the years after World War II and experienced the earliest stages of integration.
The other grew up on the banks of the Nenana River in interior Alaska. She was sent to the “St. Marks Episcopal Mission & Indian Boarding School” at a very young age (maybe 4 or 5) and remained there until she left at eighteen.
Although their early lives couldn’t have looked more different, both were shaped by the same childhood experience: being uprooted. They were both removed from their homes by the government at a young age and separated from their families.
My maternal grandmother and her siblings were taken out of poverty and away from alcoholic parents through the child welfare system. They were placed in separate homes. She was eventually adopted and raised by her uncle, but her bond with her siblings was never fully restored.
My paternal grandmother was sent to the Indian boarding school with her youngest siblings, while the oldest three were placed in schools in the Lower 48. Her removal was part of a federal initiative designed to erase Native culture and assimilate Indigenous children into white, Christian society. Unlike my maternal grandmother, she was eventually reunited with all of her siblings.
Both women remembered feeling lonely as children. One was deeply loved and nurtured by her adoptive family, but raised as an only child. The other was surrounded by other children in the boarding school, yet yearned for the warmth of parental love.
Their circumstances were different, but they shared a common thread. They both harbored a deep and persistent ache, a longing to belong. One carried the stigma of adoption in a culture that still saw it as something to hide. The other carried the grief of growing up in an institution and the yearning to be claimed.
In time, both women found what they were looking for. With my grandfathers, they experienced the kind of love and security their younger selves dreamt of. They were both cherished, well provided for, and held in loving marriages that offered safety, stability, and companionship.
Within these partnerships, they created full family lives. Their homes were filled with love and became their safe space, where they belonged completely. They were needed, valued, and adored. And they didn’t just receive that love….they multiplied it.
A Lasting Legacy
Though I had the precious privilege of having both of my grandmothers in my life until I was almost forty, they are both gone now.
They birthed, raised, and nurtured beautiful families. Their children went on to start families of their own, and from that came an expansive network of cousins that I am proud and grateful to be a part of.
In so many ways, my grandmothers left behind a legacy of love.
I’ve been loved by many people in my life, but only two ever made that love feel inevitable. Like I deserved every drop of it. Like it was mine to claim. And those two people were my grandmas.
They always gave the impression that there was nowhere else in the world they’d rather be, and no one else they’d rather be with. They delighted in my presence, took a genuine interest in me, and looked at me like I was the most interesting, exciting, lovely thing they had ever laid eyes on.
I have bucketfuls of happy memories with them. My maternal grandmother teaching me how to put on lipstick and blot it “like a lady,” curling my hair, and pulling a stool up to the counter so I could help her bake cookies. My paternal grandmother having me over for sleepovers, dressing me in the cozy flannel nightshirt she kept just for me, and tucking me into the warmest, safest bed I’ve ever slept in. I remember cream of wheat on cold mornings and summer breakfasts of cold cereal in the motorhome.
Mostly, I remember how soft their hands were and how warm their hugs felt. I remember how they smelled. How they laughed easily. They were both beautiful, classy, kind…and they loved each other, too. How could they not?
For me, nothing has ever come close to grandmother’s love. It was the kind of love that made me feel special and safe. A love so complete and unwavering from day one that it planted a little seed of worthiness deep in my soul.
That seed has gone dormant in different seasons of my life, but it was always there. And when it was watered, when the sun shone on it, it bloomed into something bright and beautiful.
When I need to feel loved, when I’m struggling to love myself or remember what real, unconditional love feels like, this is the love I return to. The love I call into my memory. The love I use as a template for how it should look, how it should feel, and what it should do.
My grandmothers are gone, but their love is alive and well within me. It shaped me. It steadied me. And it continues to guide and grow within me.
This Mother’s Day, I’m holding their memory close and honoring the legacy they left behind. Not just in the families they built, but in the way they loved those families so fiercely.
If you’ve known a love like that in your lifetime, no matter where it came from, may you feel it today. If you're really lucky, maybe you’ll get to give a little of it too.
Seated Somatic Heart Connection | Quick Tension Release | The Bare Female
10 Minutes | All Levels | Beginner Friendly
This is a sweet little practice I turned to one afternoon when I was completely depleted. Emotionally, physically, mentally…you name it. I didn’t even get off the couch. I just propped my phone on a pillow, sat up, and hit play.
By the time it ended, something had shifted. My nervous system had settled. I felt calmer, more grounded, and ready to face the rest of the day.
If you are looking for a gentle, effective reset, if you’re feeling overwhelmed, drained, or just plain sad, this one is for you.
5-Minute Self Love Meditation | Michelle Chalfant
6 Minutes | All Levels | Beginner Friendly
This is a versatile, anytime meditation. It’s perfect for moments when you need a quick pick me up, but don’t have much time. Whether you’re at work, in school, or just stepping away from a busy day, this short practice offers a nice reset.
It also works beautifully as a primer for a longer meditation. If you’d like to use it that way, simply listen through once, then remain seated in silence for as long as feels right. Let yourself soak in the love and invite even more peace into your heart.
What We Carry for Our Ancestors: Intergenerational Healing | Serene Thin Elk
18 Minutes | Inspiring for everyone
Although Serene’s story is told through the lens of the Indigenous experience, her message speaks to something universal. We all carry ancestral weight, regardless of our race, ethnicity, or where we come from.
What moved me most was her perspective on healing as an honor. She reminds us that we’re not just burdened with what’s been passed down…we’re entrusted with it. Today, we have access to tools, knowledge, resources and, in some cases, freedom that our ancestors never did.
This talk is a powerful invitation to approach generational healing not with fear or shame, but with reverence, curiosity, and a deep sense of purpose. I hope you are moved by it as I was.
Questions for the week:
Who in your life has made you feel the most loved?
Who in your life has made you feel the most lovable?
How can you show the people in your life how much you love them this week?
I hope that you have a wonderful week and remember: You loved. You are lovable. You are loving. Believe it!!
See you next Sunday.
What a healing post for you and me! The value you offer is immense, and I'm not sure I would have pursued this practice without you or even seen it in the way you guided me. THANK YOU.