In the Shadows of Her Love

Words fail me when I try to talk about the woman who brought me into this world. I greatly appreciate my father, but my mother, my best friend, God blessed me twice with her.

Growing up, I used to hate sharing her with other people. But now that I’m older, I understand. Those girls in my dorm at boarding school needed her, too. The girls she picked from church to stay with us needed a mother. My uncles needed an aunt.

How can someone have such a big heart and yet have suffered so much loss in life?

Her dad died when she was very young. Her studies were cut short. She had me when she wasn’t even an adult. I’m 31 now, and when I think back to what I was doing at 19, I want to crash out — I was just trying to find my path. But she already had me. She had to stay at home and take care of me. Then came my siblings.

I often think about her dreams and talents, the life she could have lived. The dreams she had to let go so that my siblings and I could have a comfortable home.

She was the parent who was always home. The parent who showed up everywhere — school activities and all. I used to have migraine headaches, and I remember this one Saturday afternoon I couldn’t even lift my head. Mom prayed, heavens moved, and in that prayer, I could feel her agony. The headache was gone right after the prayer.

She still prays for me. Wakes me up to pray. We pray, we cry, we laugh together.

She is my heart in human form.

I don’t know how she does it. I lost a sibling five years ago, and I crashed for two straight years. She lost three brothers in a short span and a daughter — yet she’s still standing and still comforting us.

Lord, how did you create my mother?

I want God to bless me. There’s so much I want to do for my mother.