March 05, 2010


Someone told me today that I'm strong.
I haven't thought of myself as a strong person in years.

Iron-willed: check.
Determined: check.
Stubborn: double check.
Strong: heck no.

When I think of a strong person, my mother is the first to come to mind.
She's quiet strength personified.

She has used that strength to keep her sanity.
Her family together.
Her heart right with God.
Her marriage pure.
Her friends close.

When her husband made the wrong choice, she honored him.
When her children broke her heart, she held the pieces together.
When her friends deserted her, she said nothing.
When she had to move to a different state every few years, she did so without complaints.
When there was no money in sight, she worked miracles.

She made each new house a home.
She made each new church her place.
She made each new acquaintance her friend.

She found the good in every crisis, and in every enemy.
She never let us know when she was worried.
Or sad.
Or hurt.

She cried herself to sleep.
She bit her nails to the quick wondering what she should do.
But, she never vented.
She never gossiped.

She's had reason to quit.
She's had the right to break down.
She's had enough hurt to run away from.
But, she hasn't.

She's taken life's blows.
She stands resilient.
She trusts in God, and goes to Him with her heartache.

Her children arise up and call her blessed.
I love you, Supermom.