My Mom

Check this out. I have the most beautiful mother and I mean that. My whole life I have looked up to her and admired her heart for others. She taught me how to love others and showed me what it is like to serve them. To give people what we have, even when we have nothing ourselves. I have memories upon memories of my mom going out of her way for not only my brother and I, but for strangers. Her sacrificial love was something I never understood until my early adult years.

I grew up in an abusive alcoholic home, meaning things were different. I guess I never realized how different things were until it was over. I’m at this point in my life where I have been constantly looking back and processing it all. And I keep coming back to my mom. To a woman God blessed me with in ways that I still don’t comprehend.

See, my mom couldn’t give me a home that was safe. She couldn’t and she knew it, no matter how hard she tried. She was stuck there too. In a place where we weren’t valued; a place where the only important person was the alcoholic. The focus was on him and whether he was happy or not. If he wasn’t happy, neither were we. You know, “conceal, don’t feel” kind of thing. Constantly walking on eggshells and constantly checking ourselves to makes sure we weren’t out of line.

And through this all, my mother, my beautiful mother, was there to offer a smile. To take us on mini-vacations to get away from it all. To distract us from what was unspoken; the shame, guilt, secrets, anger, hurt. She sent me to church camp, youth groups, and made sure we were involved in school activities. (This is where I shamelessly plug in that I played the trumpet for four years in middle school and faked my way through concerts, because I had no clue what I was doing). And my step-father, throughout this, was there sending my brother and I conflicting messages. Making fun of the clothes we wore. Grounding me from my youth group. Calling us gay because we played soccer. And my mom sits in the middle trying to avoid major conflict, but still trying to stick up for her kids. And after being bullied by our “father”, my mom would affirm us with a smile and made sure to always support our interests. And that is was got us through.

My mom would fight constantly for the sake of my brother and I. Always, making sure that we had safe places to go, knowing that our home was not always that place. She is a strong, encouraging, supportive mother. And though things have been a bit rough between us at times, I know that I can always fall back on her.

This past Christmas Break we were driving back from a mom and daughter date. (Those are the best kind dates, by the way.) She told me this, “Kali, you are too hard on yourself. You criticize yourself without mercy, but yet you love others with no judgments. Kali, you need to love yourself the way you love the girls on your hall. To give yourself room for mistakes. To realize that you are beautiful and that you deserved to be loved.” This is when I started crying, because despite the walls that I have built between my mom and I, she knows me. She sees my heart and understands where I’m at, without me verbalizing it. I guess that is a mom thing I won’t understand until I have children myself.

And in this moment, I was broken into a million little pieces. Our desire in life is to be known, to be known by those close to us and to be known by the Creator. And this is just one example of the Lord using my mother to tell me that I am loved despite the lies I am tempted with. The Lord used my mother to speak Truth into my life. My Father blessed me with a selfless and devoted mother.