To My Mother, With Love

 

There are people whose influence is so woven into who we are that it is nearly impossible to separate ourselves from the love they give us. For me, that person and influence is my mother.

This Mother’s Day, I find myself reflecting not only on the woman my mother is today at eighty-two years old, but on the countless versions of her that existed before I was wise enough to notice them. The young woman with dreams of her own. The tired mom who kept going. The encourager. The protector. The teacher. The steady voice in difficult situations. The quiet strength standing behind numerous moments that shaped my life.

As children, we often see our moms as magical beings—always present, always capable, always certain of what to do. It takes growth and experience to realize how much courage motherhood actually requires. How many sacrifices are made in silence. How many worries are carried privately. How many prayers are whispered for children who never hear those supplications.

The older I become, the more respect I have for motherhood. 

A mother’s love is not measured only in grand gestures. It is found in the ordinary things repeated faithfully over weeks and years and decades. It is in sleepless nights, comforting words, patient listening, meals prepared, activities attended, tears wiped away, celebrations shared, and unwavering support offered even when life is difficult.

My mother has given those gifts generously.

I have been blessed by her kindness, her strength, her resilience, and her love. Even now, after nearly a lifetime, she possesses a beautiful spirit that leaves an impression on everyone fortunate enough to know her. There is wisdom that only comes from living a life filled with both joys and hardships, and I value the perspective she possesses.

One of life’s greatest gifts is having someone believe in you long before you fully believe in yourself. My mother did that for me. 

As an author, I spend my days trying to find the right words. Yet somehow, words feel inadequate to describe the gratitude I feel for the woman who helped shape my heart, my character, and my life.

So in honor of my mom this Mother's Day, I simply want to say this:

Thank you.

Thank you for the love.
Thank you for the sacrifices I now understand more deeply.
Thank you for the encouragement, the lessons, the patience, and the memories.
Thank you for being someone worthy of admiration not only as a mother, but as a person.

I love you more than words can express.

And to mothers everywhere—thank you. The world is built upon your quiet devotion more than people realize.

Happy Mother’s Day.

—Richelle E. Goodrich

You Breathe...Thank Your Mother

It's almost Mother's Day, and so I've been pondering ways I can convey to my mother the depth of gratitude I feel for those great and numberless tasks she performed for my good when I was a child, not to mention her continual influence still shaping my thoughts and actions today.  My mother has given me much by making sacrifices beyond my comprehension.  She means the world to me.

The truth is, I have a wonderful mother.  

The truth is, not everyone can say those words.

I know people who ignore the holiday entirely.  Some rehearse a mental list of faults possessed by the woman they call mother.  Still others wonder around this time who their mother is....or was.....if only they could have been blessed to know her.  Despite our varied differences and attitudes about Mother's Day, there is one thing we share in common—one precious truth for which we can show our gratitude regardless.  And that is this:

Our mothers—apart from their strengths and defects, their successes and failures, their good and bad behavior, and even their mental, emotional, or physical absence or overbearing attentiveness—gave us the miraculous, valuable, precious gift of life.

Miraculous because we could never have bestowed it upon ourselves.

Valuable because of the endless opportunities and experiences it affords us.  

Precious because we have but one.  

So regardless of blame, faults, and flaws, remember you were given life by a woman.

You breathe.

You feel.

You see

and hear

and smell

and taste

and think

and move

and laugh

and weep

and heal

and dance

and sing

and love.

Thank your mother.