Thank you, mom.
For praying for me, before I even existed.
For being excited that I was alive and not letting the fears, anxieties or morning sickness nudge you to think about terminating your pregnancy.
Thank you for trying to figure out my screams and colic—for sacrificing sleep, comfort, and showers so that I would stay alive and know you loved me.
Thank you for teaching me hymns so early that my first songs were about Jesus.
Thank you for adopting grandpa’s maxim and truly believing that “there’s always room for one more”—even if it meant a home full of sticky, silly, tiring children.
Thank you for risking mosquito bites, sunburn, and skunks in order to cultivate our love of camping.
Thank you for letting me dance around the house in your wedding dress and for proving that the man you married was still your very best friend.
Thank you for letting me “help” you in the kitchen and—amidst a mess of flour and cinnamon—gain an inspiration to delight others with healthy, flavorful food.
Thank you for teaching me how to sew my own clothes and for encouraging me to believe that, while vanity might suffer, true beauty wouldn’t be materially damaged by chunky patterned scrunchies or baggy jumpers.
Thank you for scrimping and saving when finances were tight and nurturing my enduring appreciation for previously worn clothing, homegrown food, and inexpensive kiddie cones.
Thank you for refusing to accept “I’m bored” but always nudging me to create my next adventure—in the backyard tree or the junior high speech contest.
Thank you for proudly sending me off to college, even though you hadn’t had the chance to go for yourself.
Thank you for loving every word I write but also believing that my worth doesn’t fluctuate based on the details of my resume.
Thank you for wanting me to fall in love and have your grandchildren, but for cheerfully celebrating the other beautiful, good things that God has done in my life.
Thank you, mom, for being you.Media: