How fitting that Whitney Houston’s ‘I Believe In You And Me’ should be playing while I write this. My mom and I love The Preacher’s Wife (and Whitney Houston in general). In fact, my mom helped me “choreograph” some arm motions to Whitney’s The Bodyguard classic, ‘I Have Nothing’, when I chose to sing it in the fifth grade talent* show.
However, this is not a post about what my mom has done for me (such as choreographing arm motions). It’s not one because there simply isn’t enough time or words to aptly list it all. And I wasn’t very present-of-mind for all of those young-little-lass-Andrea years, and she probably did a lot for me then too. MAYBE. (#sarcasm.)
If any part of me is a good apple, it is because my mom is a mighty fine tree. She worked the night shift in the E.R. for so many years while my brothers and I were growing up because she was determined not to let someone else raise her kids. She and my dad made enormous sacrifices in order to make that life work.
She’s also my “Aaron” when I’m facing a battle and I need to be lifted up in prayer. When I’m heading on a flight into turbulent winds, I know she’s on the ground already in contact with “air traffic control.” (Read: Jesus). She fasts and prays for me continually. She fasts from a meal each week and prays for my future husband, which she has for years now ( — and I’m all, “Mom! Eat a sandwich already!”)
She’s the hardest working mom I know. And she’s smart as a whip – but she’ll never make you feel dumb. I’ve never seen it happen once. I don’t know how many lives she’s actually saved over the years, but I’m overwhelmed by the thought of how many families’ lives are forever changed because of her intervention. She is equipped to do great things and has been doing those things her whole life.
My mom is a servant. She’s gone to the Dominican Republic and to Zambia (Africa) to minister to the physical and spiritual needs of people in dire poverty.
My mom is intrepid; strong and courageous. There’s really no succinct way to summarize the physical agony my mom has endured the past few years (after her mastectomy from breast cancer). There’s no way to describe it in any sort of “general” way that would do it any justice. Sometimes when I think of all she has gone through, I can hardly catch my breath.
What I can say is she continues to endure, by the grace of her even stronger God. And she’s been working all throughout it. While she was getting chemotherapy, she was also completing her masters online. Again, she is intrepid.
I know she longs to be released from this seemingly never-ending-story of pain, and we all want that for her. The fact that God allows some of his cherished and most obedient sons and daughters to experience the greatest suffering is a mystery I just don’t think we’ll understand this side of Heaven. And I will pause to remind her now that despairing isn’t just a sin but simply a mistake. Only God knows the end of our individual stories. We just need to keep holding on to Him. Our enemy never tires in offering us the lie of despair as the “death-thought du jour”.
And God still has good plans for her.
Though I’m much quirkier than she (I’ve watched a lot more TV over the years), my mom can be goofy too. She loves to dance – and of my parents, that’s definitely who I get it from! And we both love sparkly things – though I think she prefers gold and I still prefer silver.
The list goes on and on. But all I know is that my mom is a continual source of inspiration and strength for me. She’s managed to raise three God-fearing responsible adult children, most likely because she and my dad have been on their knees in prayer every single day. I don’t know how they did it. But someday I’ll want to know how to be half as good a mom as she.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom! I’m happy to be an apple from your tree.
*Unfortunately for you, dear reader, this footage does not yet reside on the YouTubes.