Today is Mother’s Day, and unless you were designed in an alien lab test tube, you have one. Not everyone likes, or even talks to, their Mother, but I am blessed to have one of the very best.
My Mom was one of those Moms you hated as a kid but realized when you got older and had kids of your own how lucky you were to have her. She forced me to act like a decent human being, go to church and school, and wouldn’t allow me to wear short-shorts or makeup. When I was 14, I was certain she had plans to ruin my entire life. I did everything in my power to prove I was smarter than her. We were not on friendly terms for the following six years.
When I found out I was pregnant with my first child, I sat down and wrote my Mom a long letter, apologizing for being such an ass, and telling her how much I loved her. I expected a nice, warm, fuzzy phone call from her, telling me how much she loved me back. Instead, she returned my letter with a note written in the margin: “This is almost verbatim the letter I sent my Mother when I found out I was pregnant with you. Remember that when your child is 14 and you’re pulling your hair out. Good luck.”
Good luck? What? Where’s the “I love you too and you’re awesome”?
But that’s her style. She never told us we were awesome, unless we really were. If Momma told you she was proud of you, you knew you truly accomplished something. She’s still like that and I love her dearly for it. She taught me to strive for excellence, and never settle for second best.
I’m spending Mother’s Day on the road, so I can’t be with her today, but I want her to know how much I treasure her and how very thankful I am she’s a strong and faithful woman. If I hadn’t had someone more hard-headed than myself to raise me, I’m fairly certain I’d be dead or spending my life in jail right now.
Thanks, Mom. I love you.