3.5 stars
"Don't y'all get tired of all this rigamarole about what a terrible mother we had?"
Rehashing their convoluted childhood was exhausting, especially for Frances Mae, the oldest of the three Winters girls, now the mother of four, who "was quite weary of serving as the point of intersection for their two lines; Charlotte and Annabelle always seemed to be headed in opposite, equally dysfunctional, directions". The thing was, after years apart they were back together again, sort of, and the sweet woman who had "mothered" them far more than their biological namesake was asking them to make a decision that would affect their lives going forward, if they could stop arguing long enough to have an honest conversation about it.
Splitting her delivery between "then" and "now", the author takes her readers along on a painful journey through the childhood memories of three young women who had managed to survive their childhood, but who each carried some version of emotional scars, bitter feelings, and perhaps slightly skewed recollections of what had actually happened. How could they love when they had never felt loved? How could they remain in one place when all they had wanted to do was run away? How could God . . . . "use all the hardship, all the lack, all the pain . . . for our good".
"He remains our Abba Father even when our earthly fathers and mothers abandon us, die, move away, or plain don't care."
A very thoughtful, inspirational reminder that the journey forward can look totally different from the tangled path we must often leave behind.