Mom

Mother. Mom. Mamacita. A single word that brings with it so many emotions. What comes to mind when I hear that word is more than I think I am capable of conveying, but nonetheless, I will try.

Snow gently falls blanketing the world with a soft white cover. A cold north wind whips through the bare trees. I sit curled up with a hot cup of coffee as memories swirl inside my mind. Memories of years long past all the way to those not so long ago. Perhaps it is something in the twinkling snow that makes me feel so much nostalgia, or maybe it is simply this single peaceful moment where I can reflect on how truly blessed I am to have so much more than I could have ever asked for or deserve.

I can see these memories in my mind as if they happened only yesterday. I close my eyes, and I am home. The sound of my mom gently calling my name to rouse me from the cavern of sleep. She would come in and sit on the edge of my bed and we would talk. We can always talk about anything and nothing at all, all that mattered was we were together.

Some of my earliest memories are helping my mom cook. Though lets be honest, I probably made more work than helped, but she never minded. She has said she treasures those moments as much as if not more than I do. I remember sitting on the kitchen table and playing in the flour. Of course this was my favorite part! She would hand me the measured out ingredients so I could drop them in to the mixing bowl. I felt so grown up. I felt loved. I felt useful. I learned. Though the most important thing was I had so much fun.

I have always loved being home. To this day it is my safe haven. I am accepted without conditions. I know that no matter what else was happening in the world or in my life Home is where I will always be loved, supported, and treasured.

Unlike some parents, my mom loved having us all stuck at home for the rare snow day. Timothy, Jonathan, and I would bundle up in our poofy snow clothes and go out to play in the snow for hours. Without fail mom would have hot chocolate and a snack all ready for us when we came back inside.

I remember playing with my mom’s high heels and makeup dreaming of the day I would grow up to be just like her. I am jolted back to the present. Here I sit, a grown woman in my own apartment, and I realize I still dream of becoming the woman my mom is. I am beginning to realize, though I doubt I will ever know the full extent of, how much she has had to sacrifice and willingly take the back seat to make sure we all had what we needed to follow our dreams. I hope to one day have the kind of love and patience and perseverance she has.

She has shown me what a woman of God looks like. She has taught me to always be the better person no matter how anyone treats me. She has gone without so I could have, lost countless hours of sleep caring and praying for her family. She has spent sick days still working when she should have been in bed to heal. This list could go on for years, and I still wouldn’t have covered half of what should be talked about.

To be able to look back and see more of all that you do and have done and will do is beyond words. To know you are always in my corner cheering me on never asking for anything in return. You took my hand and showed me the way to the Throne of an Almighty, All Loving God. These are gifts that have no cost and yet are worth more than any amount I could ever give. The lessons you have taught me permeate every fiber of my soul, and I know by reflecting God’s light it matches hers.

I have never known a stronger,  kinder, more passionate, more giving person than the woman I have the humble honor of calling ‘mom’. As I get older I realize what a rare gift this is. Many of my friends either no longer have their mother or they simply don’t get along with them.

I am blessed beyond measure because not only is this amazing woman my mom, but she is also my best friend. I love you mamacita as long as I draw breath and beyond.