My Mother

My mother is a compassionate soul. She is always helping people, sometimes to the point of exhaustion, selflessly. She gives of herself freely and joyfully without complaint. And those whose lives she touches are blessed because of her.

My mother is a ham. I have pictures of her posing for funny pictures or looking over her shoulder like an old Hollywood movie star, batting her eyes at the camera. And when she infrequently consumes a sip or two of wine, she's a full fledged show girl, cutting up and laughing and dancing around the kitchen.

My mother is sacrificial. She had dreams, like everyone else. And though she's living a dream - married to the love of her life, has a beautiful home, has close relationships with her daughters, dotes on her grandchildren; there are other dreams that she left behind to bring us into the world and to be a stay-at-home-mom and to dedicate herself to her family. Those sacrifices were worth it, to be sure, but were sacrifices nonetheless.

My mother is beautiful. Her smile lights up a room and her warm brown eyes instantly bring comfort to those who gaze upon them. She takes care of her body and her skin is flawless. She never leaves the house without her hair done and lipstick on, though she needs neither for her beauty to shine through. She carries herself with grace.

My mother is my role model. As a mother now myself, I constantly evaluate situations and wonder how my mother would handle them. Then I try - try - to do that. I just want my children to have the kind of childhood I had, full of encouragement and inspiration and love and laughs and rules and consequences and freedom and beauty and lessons and faith and acceptance and appreciation. That's what my parents gave me, the kind of haven my mother created for us all. That's the kind of mother I want to be.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom. It's disgusting how much I love you.