My Mom.

My mom is my best friend.  She always has been, whether I knew it or not.  I’ve always been close with her, because she’s always been there for me.  She knows me the best of any person, and is my biggest cheer leader. 

Sometimes I feel embarrassed that my mom is my best friend.  Something in our culture of independence tells us we should eventually not be attached to our parents.  Psychology tells us that there is something unhealthy or imbalanced about an adult child being overly-emotionally connected to their parent.  But then our culture of independence and psychology tells us to “move on” when our adult parents die, and we can’t grieve properly because we first weren’t allowed to love properly.  We regret time wasted, arguments had, love left un-loved.

Well, today, I’m telling you world, I LOVE MY MOM!!!!

She’s my super-hero, my rock, my prayer-warrior. She’s my shoulder-to-cry-on, my laugh-with-me, my banter-with-me, my love-me-anyway-always-no-matter-what. 

My mom is the kind of mom who prays a prayer of surrender for the tiny baby inside of her when her pregnancy is at risk, saying “This baby is yours Lord. Let her live.”  My mom is the kind of mom who gives up her career to be a mom.  The kind of mom who does all the crafts, the school plays, the Halloween costumes, the church clubs, the birthday scavenger-hunts, the sleepovers… The kind of mom who does the cooking, the cleaning, the laundry, the pet-caring, the taxi-mom driving… My mom is the kind of mom who hovers in the next room when I date boys I shouldn’t, letting me make mistakes but still being there to pick up the pieces.   My mom is the ready to listen to all my growing-pain problems, watching me become an adult while still seeing a tiny baby kind of mom.

My mom is the kind of mom who achingly lets the Lord do as he will in my life, praying and hurting and sending and loving me to Africa.  My mom is the kind of mom who is ready to hop on a plane when I’m in the middle of the bush sick with “malaria.” My mom is the hold-your-hair-while-you-vomit kind of mom. (still) The kind of mom who comes to Africa twice to support my ministry, do my laundry, and wash my dishes.  She’s the kind of mom who waits and walks with me while I heal, sees beyond my broken hurt and hopes and prays and believes in me. 

Most of all she believes in the Lord who is at work in me, and trusts in Him with her whole heart, mind and strength.   She has exemplified what the Lord’s unconditional love is like.  And like she’s always said, “The Lord loves you, and he loves you way more than I do. Which is hard to believe, because I love you billions.”

When I say I’m gonna go visit Zambia, my mom is the kind of mom who, without skipping a beat, says, “Do you want me to go with you?”

I love you mom! And I’m so thankful we get to share this journey together.