"I don't think I got it, Mom.  The sun is right behind the nest."

One hallmark of springtime in the German countryside is the return of the storks to their wheel high on a rooftop in a nearby village. Moira, tasked as she was with snapping the mama stork as we drove 'round the corner, doubted the shot was salvageable. 

"Let me look at it in editing.  I might be able to save it," I told her. When I went through them later, one image just caught my breath. Most of the storks we have seen have been pristine, almost regal.  Through the zoom lens, however, this mama appeared a little bedraggled. Tired, but steadfast, serene as she has been every time we have passed lately. She was plucking down from her undersides and dropping it into the nest.

 I keep returning to this image.  It stands in start contrast to a world that insists we mothers must reach for our own oxygen masks first.  Perhaps in our quest for self-preservation and fulfillment we have missed what these creatures just know instinctively: It is in giving that we receive. 

"'There were in Delft innumerable storks' nests. When the fire broke out, which was on the 3rd of May, the young storks were fledged, but could not yet fly. Seeing the fire approach, the parent storks attempted to carry their young ones out of danger, but they were too heavy; and after having tried all sorts of desperate efforts, the poor birds were forced to give it up. They might have saved themselves by abandoning the little ones to their fate. But instead, they stayed upon their nests, gathered their little ones about them, covered them with their wings as if to retard as long as possible the fatal moment, and so awaited death in that loving and noble attitude.'

Truly this was a remarkable illustration of devotion, and again demonstrates the fact that there is no greater love in the world than mother love. This holds homes together and comforts in distress. This abides when all others fail.'"  – Edmondo De Amicis