#gift ideas for golder

[nevermindallgolf]

Golfing Gifts That Swing - Ideas to Present the Golf Enthusiast

Golfers always have something to say about love for their game, but the way one finds just the perfect gift for golfers seems enjoyable in its own right. This could go to seasoned or even for a new member on the green, as this is abundant in creative as well as practical gift ideas based on someone's style or needs. Here is the roundup of thoughtful, unique golfing gifts that swing right in any enthusiast.

1. Drawstring Pouch Bags Small Design-Style Bags Cunning & Chic

Golfers take many necessary things: tees, markers, balls, and personal stuff; these little pouch-design bags are excellent gifts since they are so elegant and practically very helpful for carrying out various kinds of golf things. 

Compact and Convenient: Small design pouch bags are convenient to carry, and most designs can fit into a larger golf bag or be attached for easy access.

Waterproof Choices: Opt for a waterproof pouch bag to protect items from moisture and rain, which is ideal for those who golf in all weather.

2. Golf Club Head Covers – A Little Personality

Head covers keep your golf clubs from getting dinged and dented and add a little personality to a golfer's equipment. They come in many different materials, colors, and themes, ranging from classic designs to the more fun, novelty designs that make a statement.

Fashionable Protection: Head covers for clubs have become one of the easiest options for maintaining quality and preventing damage.

Creativity Covers: Animal-shaped heads or cartoon characters' can add humor and even personalize the golf bag's overall look.

3. Portable Putting Green- Practice Anytime, Anywhere

Golfers will always look to perfect their art, and a portable putting green allows them to develop their putting strokes within their homes or even in the backyard. Such putting greens are light in weight, easily put together, and give the feel of real golf putting.

Variation in Size: The product differs in size; small mat types for indoor and massive setups are available in varying sizes to suit the size of the available space.

Interactive Features: Many putting greens come equipped with features that make practice more enjoyable, such as the return of automatic balls used in practice sessions.

4. Electronic Swing Analyzer – Improve the Game

Technology can be of great use for golfers to observe their swing and then better themselves. Electronic swing analyzers provide data relating to speed, angle, and accuracy on which golfers may fine-tune their swing techniques.

Real-Time Data: There are certain models that can communicate with some mobile applications about real-time data analysis so that monitoring the improvement becomes easy.

Easy to Use: these compact devices are attached to the club for a trouble-free user experience, be it an amateur or a more advanced player.

5. Golf Lessons Gift Card-Voucher to All Playing Standards

Another thing can never substitute for golf lessons, so may the gift card on lessons packaged motivate golfers towards new techniques or master some games under professionals' mentorship.

Flexible to Use for All Playing Skills: Lessons can be attended regardless of whether you are just a beginner or old skilled player; they can also move according to their pace.

Personalized Programs: Many golf courses have personalized lesson packages, which makes it a very personal gift.

The Bottom Line

Finding an appropriate gift for a golfer is about style, practicality, and, even more so, personality. These are, therefore, gift ideas presented to meet every golfer's needs and preference requirements. Thoughtful choice with these gift ideas for golfers is where you give a gift, not one that would likely sit on the shelf after being opened but would back their passion for the sport.

[cyberpunkgyu]

hello everyone!

i have ideas for different stories that i have already written in my drafts but i was wondering which you guys think sounds the most interesting out of these dynamics:

- tsundere sunghoon x bubbly reader

- cold jay x reader where reader likes jay and pursues him by giving him gifts, etc., but jay thinks she’s “annoying” but suddenly he slowly catches feelings for her and gets jealous when another guy takes an interest in her (anyone in hyung line)

- golden retriever jake x golder retriever reader where both are already in a relationship and just shows how cute the two are

- cold rich kid sunghoon x mean girl rich kid reader where you two are best friends, and you got sunghoon wrapped around your finger, always taking your side etc (drama type of story)

does any of these sound interesting 🤨

[swordduels]

He never quite understood how the postal birds could find people on the move with such ease. The last time he sent the bird away he had been in a small unknown village on an island close to the Golder Riven Point. When the bird landed next to him he was in a snow landscape. Sigfrid thanked for the letter and took it while Eskild made a snowman. The sky above him was lit up by northern lights that shifted from emerald green to blue or purple. Everytime he opened his mouth there was a small cloud going upwards. Next to him was a bonfire and a group of people chatting among themselves. Before sitting down he removed both gloves and opened the envelope. It was clear who the sender was. The writing was distinctly Yamato. His nostalgic smile faded before vanishing as he read the message. How could things have turned so much worse within a month? And he thought things were awful when he was still living there. He sighed and told the bird he had no letters ready yet. It didn’t take long before the bird lifted its wide wings and took off. Yamato was in more danger than before and he had to be extra careful when sending letters. If he sent them on a regular basis it would draw attention to them. The gift had been a bad idea and he would keep that in mind in his next letter. Hopefully no one would figure out the letter exchanges or what Yamato shared to the outside world. Sigfrid sighed as he read the letter again. Did they still believe Kaidou would ever let him free? 

Two months passed by in the blink of an eye. Seasons changed slowly. A new bird searched its way to Wano. This time it wasn’t a postal bird but a simple dove with a letter around its leg. Instead of an envelope with a vax sigil it was a folded and rolled yellow wanted poster with a grinning woman. Her hair was put up in fish bone braids. She held an ax leaned against the shoulder while the other hand held a beer glass. Around her neck were several necklaces made of wooden beads. “Alfhild Birka. Dead or Alive.” There was also a bounty mentioned. Though it wasn’t on the level as some high ranking pirates. The writing on the other side was rough and squiggly as if the letter was written with the wrong hand. To the Mighty steed It sounds like a dreadful cough. Is there a way to get medicine for everyone? I’m itching to come visit but I don’t want to get sick or make it worse for you. I won't bring more flowers either. I’m glad that you are so strong. It makes me less worried. Once you get better I can show you my boat. Don’t worry about me. I’m glad you like my story. Maybe I should become an author? Sorry for my writing. I broke my arm two days ago. Some woman with a flying fist wanted to take me home. Thankfully my new friend has some magical healing runes so some of the pain is gone. I still need to use a mitella though. 

I met my new friend as she saved us from a sinking ship outside her home land. Since then we have been using her boat Blue Maiden to travel. I’ve seen snow and northern lights. I’ve seen Fish people and other sea dwellers. I had my first kiss with one of the prettiest ice maidens. I think I’m in love. My new friend is teaching me a lot of things. I also found portraits of me. It’s not flattering. We’ve been fighting a lot because of the portraits. Someone has spread rumors. I’ve lost a couple of teeth too. We also stumbled upon a song writer who’s been running away from debt collectors. He can send flying notes that punch people. He’s not much for fighting but he’s great at songwriting and singing. I’m sorry this story is not as long as the other one. I will tell you more whenever we meet again or in my next letter. There's been so much going on. I’m still not as strong as I need to be but one day I’ll be the strongest. With love Polkadotdress

“I’m getting married.” Sigfrid’s voice was so frail and quiet. There was no life in his facial expression. It was as if someone had sucked out all the joy in his eyes. He slumped down against a tree and leaned his head back. His breath smelled of alcohol. Clothes were wrinkled and several buttons were lost. The mahogany colored hair that usually reached his shoulders was an unkept bird nest. He slowly tilted his head to look at them while swallowing. “My mother and father found a husband for me.” His voice kept trembling. “I’ll be married in a month. There will be a cake. I’ll be wearing a dress. They made a guest list. Then. Then I’ll be shipped off.” Sigfrid blinked furiously before he grabbed his hair hard with both hands.There came a pained growling sound from his throat. “They have planned everything for me.”  

[sebthesnipe]

To Sleep Perchance To Dream

First // Previously // Next

My Dearest Procyon

Masterpost

MDP Discord Server

Chapter 27

Original story based on this wonderful post by @underdog-arts

TW: Blood, Torture, vomit, some pretty nasty talk

Roman felt his knees give out, slamming against the stone floor beneath him. He doubled over, retching until the remaining contents of his stomach pooled before him. The force of it all had his eyes watering as he wiped his chin with the back of his hand. His face hurt, his ribs felt like they were cracked, a few fingers were definitely broken, and he was fairly certain he was bleeding somewhere. He glanced down at the red that streaked his hand. Yup, definitely bleeding.

“Get him up,” Nonames voice came just before Roman felt hands on his shoulders. He was dragged to his feet, not bothering to put up a fight. He was so tired… How long had they been at this?

“I’m growing tired, Roman,” Noname sighed, stepping closer to the prince. “I don’t care much for repeating myself.”

Roman lifted his chin in defiance, jaw aching from where he had been struck last. “And yet, you manage it so well,” Roman replied sarcastically, bracing himself for what was to come.

As expected, Noname lifted his hand in preparation for another strike.

“There you are!” a familiar nasal voice interrupted, causing the vile man to pause and glance over Roman’s shoulder. “I should have known you’d be down here,” Remus mused as he brushed past the prince, not even bothering to give him a gance. 

“Remus, I do not have time for-” Noname began. The emerald clad man practically draped himself on his apparent lover, pressing a finger to his lips, effectively interrupting him. 

“Come on, Bitterbrain,” Remus practically whined. “You never came to bed and you promised that you’d do that thing with the glass again.” 

Noname, for all his highbrow persona, seemed to melt under the strange endearment. His hand lifted to wrap around Remus’ wrist and pull it away a bit forcefully. 

“Daddy’s working, Dearest,” Deceit hissed, peering down at the smaller man. “You’ll have to have some fun on your own for a little while longer.” 

Roman should have known Remus was behind Noname’s appearance. Of course the guy would show up right after Remus had found them. He was as vile as the snake was!

“But D…” Remus pouted childishly. He seemed to pause before a devilish grin played on his lip before he pressed onto his tiptoes and ran his tongue over the man’s scarred cheek. “I’m about to smash you right here,” he warned playfully.

“You wouldn’t dare!” Noname growled. As far as Roman could tell, the man seemed angered by Remus’ threat, his words spoken with venom. Noname’s grip on Remus’ wrist tightened making the prince’s twin hiss in pain. 

“Mm, you like the idea I see,” Remus chuckled, pressing even closer to the man.

For a moment, the two of them silently stared at one another before the taller man gave a sigh. 

“Fine,” Noname grumbled, releasing the smaller man’s wrist. “Collect what we need and meet me in my chambers. I will be there shortly.”

“But D-”

“Now, Remus.” Nonmae order causing Remus to give a small shudder, though Roman couldn’t be certain if it was from fear or excitement. Regardless, the man in question pulled away and hurried off, giving only a brief glance backwards, meeting Roman’s gaze. 

Roman wasn’t sure exactly what he saw there, but it certainly wasn’t the same amusement he saw in Noname’s gaze. 

If he ventured a guess, Roman supposed he would have said he saw fear.

“It seems I am needed elsewhere,” Noname sighed, bringing the prince’s attention back to the man before him. “Our little game will have to wait… For now,” he promised. Noname took a step forward, fingers curling into the ripped fabric of Roman’s shirt and yanked the prince forward. The men that had been holding him up allowed him to be pulled from their grasp. 

“I will get what I need from you, Roman. I assure you of that,” the villain spat, so close that their breaths mingled with every exhale. 

“Yeah, well, keep trying No-game,” Roman mused, forcing a smile onto his lips. The prince ignored the way the action caused his skin to split painfully. “We’ll see how far that gets you.”

Noname eyed Roman carefully, searching for something in his gaze. Whatever it was, he obviously didn’t find it. He shoved Roman back towards the guards, who allowed him to collapse under his own weight, hitting the ground hard. 

“Let him spend the rest of the night with Remy. We’ll see if that changes his tune,” Noname ordered before turning on his heels. “And someone send some rope to my chambers! I have some discipline to deal out…” 

Roman took a moment to appreciate the cool stone floor that was pressed against his back. He could feel his temperature evening out as he stared up at the roughly carved ceiling. They were obviously underground, no doubt miles away from his friends. He hoped they were safe. 

Virgil no doubt hated him, if their last few moments together were anything to go by. As long as the witch stayed away from this horrid place, Roman couldn’t bring himself to regret the misunderstanding. Still, he prayed for sleep, hoping the witch would visit him there. Noname could do whatever vile thing he wished to the prince, but he could never take away his dreams. Not when there was a chance he would see Virgil.

The guards hadn’t allowed the prince much of a reprieve before hoisting him onto his feet and escorting him down a thin hallway. The narrow space left Roman sandwiched between the two men, using one for support as he limped onward. He wasn’t sure if his ankle was sprained or broken, but he supposed it didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that it hurt. Thankfully, he wasn’t forced to walk on it for too long.

The hall widened into a large room sparsely decorated and lined with large solid looking doors. Each frame seemed to be made of a different shade of wood spanning from a pale white to a dark auburn. A small gold plaque was nailed to the middle of each, the words too faint to make out from a distance. 

The men led Roman across the large room to a light umber colored door. As they drew closer Roman noted the golder plaque that seemed to etch itself before their eyes. The deep gouges did not form letters, however, instead a pairs of closed eyes appeared. The pictures seemed serene and yet struck a sense of foreboding within the prince. 

The men seemed to feel no such reservations as they pulled open the door and led Roman inside the dark room. The dull light from a small candle stationed on the floor in the center of the room led the group deeper into space. 

“Ugh! Gurl, you have got to be kidding me!” a distorted voice came as the men moved an adjacent wall. “I told that simp I was not in the mood for visitors! It takes a lot of beauty rest to make a queen look this good you know!” 

One of the men tugged on Roman’s shackles, pulling the chain through a large loop on the ceiling before pulling until the prince was forced onto the tip of his toes. 

“Boss’ orders, Rem. Sorry,” the other one shrugged, squinting into the shadows.

“Isn’t it always, bae?” the voice sighed. “Don’t worry I’m not mad at you. Just… next time bring me a gift, ‘kay? Thanks doll.” 

“Whatever you say Rem,” the man laughed before giving the other guard a smack on the shoulder and motioning for the door. “Boss says he wants him alive.”

“Oh? That’s a new tune. Well, I suppose I was getting tired of his dull routine. Been there, seen that! A girl needs a little spice in her life sometimes!” this so-called Remy called back as Roman tried to adjust his eyes to the darkness. 

The men didn’t seem to pay any mind as they headed for the door. “We have to get going, I’ll bring you some more of that soap you like so much next time I swing by.” 

“Shut up, the lavender one!” the voice gasped excitedly. “Bitch you know I’m basic!” 

The man just laughed as he pulled the door closed behind him, sending them into a deeper darkness, causing Roman to tense further. His swollen gaze shifted around the room, still shrouded in black, trying to make out anything. 

“Well, aren’t you a snacc,” the voice hummed, this time directly in the prince’s ear making him jump. 

“E-excuse me?” Roman stammered uncertainly, worried the creature might try to eat him. 

“You’re excused, Doll,” the thing came back, “excused from being so cute!” 

Roman had no idea how to respond. Whatever this thing was, it certainly had a personality. 

Something brushed against the prince’s chest gently, the shadows before him shifting slightly as if on their own accord. Whatever it was, it wasn’t human.

“Guuuurl, you are built like a brick house!” the voice purred. “What’s your name?”

“I...” Roman began, hesitating slightly. Did this thing rely on people’s names to torture them? 

“You need to relax, take a load off,” the thing coaxed. As if on cue Roman’s exhaustion hit him. His eyes grew heavy as he fought the urge to sleep. Hadn’t he wanted to sleep? Yes… sleep sounded nice… but he couldn’t, he needed… Why couldn’t he again? Oh…. Right, the creature… What was so bad about it again?

“Your name?” the voice sang in its suddenly soothing voice.

“Prince Roman… Of the… Kingdom… of…” Roman answered, cutting himself off with a large yawn.

“Guurrrll?! You’re a prince?!” the voice gasped. Suddenly Roman’s exhaustion was gone. His head jerked up in surprise. What the hell had just happened?! “Wait, wait, wait! Roman… Roman… Why do I know that name?”

“What are you?” Roman demanded in confusion. “Some sort of witch?”

“Ooo! A smart one! I like you already!” the voice chuckled. Roman couldn’t gather if the tone was male, female, or something in between careful. “We’re going to have so much fun, bae!”

“Alright,” Roman sighed. It was obvious this thing was more interested in itself than anything else. It was playful and egotistical. He could certainly work with that. “I’m always up for some fun. What’s your name?”

“Noname never brings me a good toy! I’m so excited!” the thing cheered, “My name is Remy. I’m the best damn Baku you’re ever going to meet, sweetcheeks.”

“Baku? What is a Baku?” Roman pressed, still utterly confused. “Not that I mind a bit of mystery, but how can I praise your beauty without knowing the real you?” 

“Guuurl!” Remy laughed, obviously charmed. “A Baku is a dream eater.”

“A dream eater? So… a witch like Virgil-” Roman wondered aloud before something unseen tightened around his neck strangling him. 

“Virgil?!” Remy hissed. Suddenly, a flame flickered into existence a few inches from Roman’s face, illuminating the features of the beast before him. 

Remy’s human shaped eyes shifted with the inky blackness of the shadows around them. Their pale lips were pulled back into a snarl, revealing sharp teeth and a jagged tongue. Their otherwise human features were pulled taunt by the look of malice painted across their face. Their pointed ears seemed as if they appeared out of the shadows as well, black tendrils of nothingness swirling where their hair should be. 

Roman gasped, trying to fill his lungs with oxygen and only managing a gurgled choking sound as Remy’s grip tightened around his airway. He was going to die like this… Die without getting to see his Procyon one last time….

……………………………………………………………….

“Logan… Logan! Wake up, damn it!” Virgil’s voice snapped, shoving at his partner to try and force him to stir.

Logan yawned, flopping over onto his stomach and stretching. Virgil was always so dramatic. Everything was so urgent. Logan always had a set schedule. Everything would be fine, he could take another five minutes to-

Wait… No, something was off. Logan’s sluggish mind couldn’t make out just what that was quite yet, but he knew it was big. He forced his eyes open, blinking away the sleep as he took in the sight before him.

Virgil sat next to him, his legs tucked beneath him as he obviously tried to wake Logan. Patton sat not too far behind him, knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs, puffy eyes peeking sheepishly over them. It looked as if he had been crying. Why was Patton crying?

Logan needed to comfort him. He moved to push himself up, hands sliding under his shoulders to lift his weight from the ground. Patton needed to know that everything was alright that he-

Shock washed through the witch as his matching honey eyes shot back towards the ground. His breathing increased rapidly, his mind unable to process what he saw. His hands were spread shoulder width apart, supporting his body. 

His human hands.

The lanky witch scrambled into a seated position, eyes wide as he lifted them to his face, wiggling his fingers. They were his. This wasn’t a dream. He glanced at Virgil.

The smaller witch offered him a soft tired smile, his even purple gaze narrowing with the expression. 

They were both human. 

Had they done it?

Was it over?

To be continued...

Taglist: 

@hiddendreamer67 @nightashes @aequinoctiale @sumersnowlilly

[rjhamster]

Women friends become the face of God to one another — the face of grace, of delight, of mercy. ~ Stasi Eldredge, Captivating All Women Are Called to Mother Stasi Eldredge, Captivating: Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman's Soul To Mother As large as the role is that our mothers play, the word mother is more powerful when used as a verb than as a noun. All women are not mothers, but all women are called to mother. To mother is to nurture, to train, to educate, to rear. As daughters of Eve, all women are uniquely gifted to help others in their lives become more of who they truly are — to encourage, nurture, and mother them toward their true selves. In doing this, women partner with Christ in the vital mission of bringing forth life. Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it. — Proverbs 22:6 NKJV This verse is not a promise about faith. It is not speaking of training a child to follow Christ or promising that if you do, the grown child will continue to follow Him. Sorry. The proverb is about raising a child to know who he is and to guide him in becoming ever more himself. In the way he should go. Not in the way you would like him to go in order to validate you as a mother and a woman. It speaks of teaching a child to live from his heart, attuned to it, awake to it, aware of it, and when that child is grown he will continue to live a life from the heart. It is about seeing who a person really is and calling him out to be that person. The impact on a life that has been seen and called out is dramatic and eternal. The nurturing of life is a high and holy calling. And as a woman, it is yours. Yes, it takes many shapes and has a myriad of faces. Yes, men are called to this as well. But uniquely and deeply, this calling makes up part of the very fiber of a woman’s soul — the calling to mother. I am reminded of a courageous African-American woman who was thrilled to purchase her first home. After moving in, she came home from work to find drug dealers doing business on her front steps. It seems her new home was smack dab in the center of their “territory” in Los Angeles. She wouldn’t stand for it. Head held high, finger wagging, she “mothered” them to higher aims. She mothered them out of their sin. She mothered them into becoming the young men they were meant to become. You can mother other people’s children. In truth, our world needs you to. My friend Lori’s house was the center of activity while her girls were still in school. Their friends loved to hang out at her house. She offered them life. She counseled them. She encouraged them. She mothered them with love and strength. She also baked them fabulous treats. She has played and continues to play a major role in many young women’s lives, impacting them for good, calling them forth to become who they are meant to be. We think of a woman C. S. Lewis describes meeting in heaven in his book The Great Divorce. A Teacher is showing him around the place when they encounter a woman of stunning beauty. “It’s someone ye’ll never have heard of. Her name on earth was Sarah Smith and she lived at Golders Green.” “She seems to be... well, a person of particular importance?” “Aye. She is one of the great ones. Ye have heard that fame in this country and fame on earth are two quite different things.” “... And who are all these young men and women on each side?” “They are her sons and daughters.” “She must have had a very large family, Sir.” “Every young man or boy that met her became her son — even if it was only the boy that brought the meat to her back door. Every girl that met her was her daughter.” “Isn’t that a bit hard on their own parents?” “No. There are those that steal other people’s children. But her motherhood was of a different kind. Those on whom it fell went back to their natural parents loving them more. Few men looked on her without becoming, in a certain fashion, her lovers. But it was the kind of love that made them not less true, but truer, to their own wives.” We mother each other when we offer our concern, our care, our comfort. We mother each other when we see a need and rise to meet it, whether it is a sweater for a friend who is chilly, a meal for a struggling family, or a listening ear for a friend who is hurting. All women are called to mother. And all women are called to give birth. Women give birth to all kinds of things — to books (it’s nearly as hard as a child, believe me), to churches, to movements. Women give birth to ideas, to creative expressions, to ministries. We birth life in others by inviting them into deeper realms of healing, to deeper walks with God, to deeper intimacy with Jesus. A woman is not less of a woman because she is not a wife or has not physically borne a child. The heart and life of a woman is much more vast than that. All women are made in the image of God in that we bring forth life. When we enter into our world and into the lives of those we love and offer our tender and strong feminine hearts, we cannot help but mother them. Excerpted with permission from Captivating: Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman's Soul by Stasi and John Eldredge, copyright John Eldredge and Stasi Eldredge. * Your Turn Whether or not you are a biological or adoptive mother, who in your life do you mother? Who are your female friends who mother you with attention, care, affection, and who see you? Come share with us on our blog. We want to hear from you! ~ Laurie McClure, Faith.Full

[rjhamster]

Women friends become the face of God to one another — the face of grace, of delight, of mercy. ~ Stasi Eldredge, Captivating All Women Are Called to Mother Stasi Eldredge, Captivating: Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman's Soul To Mother As large as the role is that our mothers play, the word mother is more powerful when used as a verb than as a noun. All women are not mothers, but all women are called to mother. To mother is to nurture, to train, to educate, to rear. As daughters of Eve, all women are uniquely gifted to help others in their lives become more of who they truly are — to encourage, nurture, and mother them toward their true selves. In doing this, women partner with Christ in the vital mission of bringing forth life. Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it. — Proverbs 22:6 NKJV This verse is not a promise about faith. It is not speaking of training a child to follow Christ or promising that if you do, the grown child will continue to follow Him. Sorry. The proverb is about raising a child to know who he is and to guide him in becoming ever more himself. In the way he should go. Not in the way you would like him to go in order to validate you as a mother and a woman. It speaks of teaching a child to live from his heart, attuned to it, awake to it, aware of it, and when that child is grown he will continue to live a life from the heart. It is about seeing who a person really is and calling him out to be that person. The impact on a life that has been seen and called out is dramatic and eternal. The nurturing of life is a high and holy calling. And as a woman, it is yours. Yes, it takes many shapes and has a myriad of faces. Yes, men are called to this as well. But uniquely and deeply, this calling makes up part of the very fiber of a woman’s soul — the calling to mother. I am reminded of a courageous African-American woman who was thrilled to purchase her first home. After moving in, she came home from work to find drug dealers doing business on her front steps. It seems her new home was smack dab in the center of their “territory” in Los Angeles. She wouldn’t stand for it. Head held high, finger wagging, she “mothered” them to higher aims. She mothered them out of their sin. She mothered them into becoming the young men they were meant to become. You can mother other people’s children. In truth, our world needs you to. My friend Lori’s house was the center of activity while her girls were still in school. Their friends loved to hang out at her house. She offered them life. She counseled them. She encouraged them. She mothered them with love and strength. She also baked them fabulous treats. She has played and continues to play a major role in many young women’s lives, impacting them for good, calling them forth to become who they are meant to be. We think of a woman C. S. Lewis describes meeting in heaven in his book The Great Divorce. A Teacher is showing him around the place when they encounter a woman of stunning beauty. “It’s someone ye’ll never have heard of. Her name on earth was Sarah Smith and she lived at Golders Green.” “She seems to be... well, a person of particular importance?” “Aye. She is one of the great ones. Ye have heard that fame in this country and fame on earth are two quite different things.” “... And who are all these young men and women on each side?” “They are her sons and daughters.” “She must have had a very large family, Sir.” “Every young man or boy that met her became her son — even if it was only the boy that brought the meat to her back door. Every girl that met her was her daughter.” “Isn’t that a bit hard on their own parents?” “No. There are those that steal other people’s children. But her motherhood was of a different kind. Those on whom it fell went back to their natural parents loving them more. Few men looked on her without becoming, in a certain fashion, her lovers. But it was the kind of love that made them not less true, but truer, to their own wives.” We mother each other when we offer our concern, our care, our comfort. We mother each other when we see a need and rise to meet it, whether it is a sweater for a friend who is chilly, a meal for a struggling family, or a listening ear for a friend who is hurting. All women are called to mother. And all women are called to give birth. Women give birth to all kinds of things — to books (it’s nearly as hard as a child, believe me), to churches, to movements. Women give birth to ideas, to creative expressions, to ministries. We birth life in others by inviting them into deeper realms of healing, to deeper walks with God, to deeper intimacy with Jesus. A woman is not less of a woman because she is not a wife or has not physically borne a child. The heart and life of a woman is much more vast than that. All women are made in the image of God in that we bring forth life. When we enter into our world and into the lives of those we love and offer our tender and strong feminine hearts, we cannot help but mother them. Excerpted with permission from Captivating: Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman's Soul by Stasi and John Eldredge, copyright John Eldredge and Stasi Eldredge. * Your Turn Whether or not you are a biological or adoptive mother, who in your life do you mother? Who are your female friends who mother you with attention, care, affection, and who see you? Come share with us on our blog. We want to hear from you! ~ Laurie McClure, Faith.Full