For a lot of us, our relationship with our mom is one of (if not the) most important relationship in our life. With family weekend upon us, I was hit over the head with how much I love my mom and how often I take her for granted. If your mom is here on campus with you this weekend, hug her out of the blue, kiss her on the cheek, show her how much you love her where words fail. If you’re like me and your mom is miles and miles away, give her a call, write her a letter, Facebook message her. Cherish her.
Mom,
The first thing that you need to know is, thank you. These two words are said so often in our household that I think, a lot of times, they lose their meaning. This isn’t the kind of “thank you” you say when someone gives you the last cookie or when someone holds the door open for you. This is the kind of “thank you” that means something much deeper. Thank you for making me laugh so hard that I cry and for making me laugh when I cry. Thank you for loving me and my flaws, but ultimately, thank you for not allowing that love to hide my flaws. Thank you for making my life difficult sometimes. In the full swing of those “sometimes” I was bitter and angry and confused, but looking back as a stronger, gentler, and more focused woman, now I say “thank you”.
Thank you for not allowing me to get everything that I wanted. Thank you for making me work for my first cell phone. Thank you for making me work for your respect. Thank you for making me take out the trash. Thank you for making me re-write an essay because you knew it could be better. Thank you for making me go the extra mile. Because of you, I now find joy in doing these things that once caused so much drama. Thank you, because I finally feel like I am slowly becoming more and more like you who God gave as an example of someone who is striving to be more and more like Christ.
The second, but probably (no, most definitely) the most important thing I need you to understand is that I love you. These three words are thrown around like a football, and with every careless pass, they are intercepted by doubt. But not these words: I love you. I know I don’t call you to tell you that enough, but I do. Sometimes, while lying in bed at night mulling over the events of that day, I think of you. Sometimes I just lay in my bed, like an idiot, smiling because I think of something you said or did over summer break and I hope my roommate doesn’t wake up because of my giggling. I talk about you to my friends all of the time, and no one ever makes fun of me for it because without even meeting you, they are inspired by you.
Finally, I want you to know that I am proud of you. I know it’s your job to be proud of me, and I know you are. Now, it’s my turn. I am so proud to be called your daughter. I am beyond proud of how hard you have worked to get where you are. With courage, perseverance, dedication, and flat out hard work, you raised a family. You are the best nurse that has ever taken care of me, who always knows exactly what’s wrong. With just a touch of your fingertips to my forehead, you know what my temperature is and what would make me feel better. You are the best counselor who listens to every word and responds with love-based but stern words of encouragement and direction. You are my best cheerleader, who was on the sidelines of every game, who cheered louder than anyone and always had a special way to motivate and encourage me. You will always be better than any coach. I’m proud, probably more than you realize, of the impact you have in the lives of many. It has taken me moving to a dorm room to realize this, but mom? You are my best friend. I’m proud of you.