Wouldn’t it be something if mother, a small voice from the past, a farm-woman sitting at her kitchen table pouring out her heart on paper in thankfulness and gratitude for the children she adopted could in some manner impact the world?
The time was 1956. Mother wrote to Grandma Holt of the Holt agency off and on until 1967 when the letters stopped.
The agency kept her letters all those years and then sent them to my step-dad. I typed them, placed them here between the covers of this book, and added some of my own. The reason? There was a secret in the family that mother never knew. Telling it could be a legacy for her, and for my sister Jan.
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