Column Post by Laura Hyers
I’m not a mother—yet. Some days I feel like a mother, chasing around children who aren’t mine for nine hours a day, changing diapers and potty training and disciplining and celebrating and laughing and hugging and wiping noses and kissing booboos. But at the end of the day I give my students back to their parents and I go home, where I am responsible for only myself and my cat (and making sure my husband eats).
I can’t begin to imagine how stressful the life of a mother is. But I’m a daughter, one with a fierce loyalty to her mother and a deep friendship that has come with time and effort.
My high school years were punctuated with fights and silence and slamming doors and all the things that come with a sassy girl becoming a woman, pushing away the woman who has loved and supported her for her entire life, the growing pains that come with stretching into responsibilities and independence. My poor brave mother held on to me through drinking and drugs and sneaking out and threats of moving out and my locked bedroom door, and I know she would lie awake at night and cry and pray that something in my stubborn and rebellious spirit would turn and we could be whole and happy again.
I grew up, and grew out of the stunts I would pull to spite my parents. And we worked hard and they forgave me for the pain and trouble I had caused them and we were better for it. We all admit that the healing came straight from God, as we had fractured in our ways of dealing with things, and our relationship is better than I ever could have dreamed. I can tell my parents anything, and my daddy is still my hero and my mom is one of my very best friends.
Two years ago this June, my parents sat my sisters and me down and told us that Mom had breast cancer—an aggressive kind that required a bilateral mastectomy and chemo, and maybe radiation. I was crushed, and I fell apart. I couldn’t imagine losing my mom, my confidante and cheerleader and counselor, and I was so angry that God would allow this to happen.
Life was happening; one sister was married and the other was graduating and I was engaged. My beautiful mother had a long horizontal scar across her chest and she was losing her hair and her bones hurt and she was nauseous and weak and still she went to work every day and there was nothing any of us could do to make this go away or make her slow down.
One night, I was praying with my house church and pleading with God to make my mother well and I felt a nudge on my heart and a quiet whisper in my soul: “Mom might be healed. She might not be. Nothing is guaranteed, nothing is promised. You have her now, but you’re so consumed with what could be that you are letting time the time you have slip away.”
My incredible mother has been healed, by the grace of God, and it was amazing to have her with me on my wedding day, to watch her hair grow long and thick and curly. I get to call her on my way home from work most days just to talk. But the future is uncertain, and nothing is promised. I am left with the time I have now, and the moments I have been given today.
Being a mom seems to me a pretty thankless job. I know that even with the way my world changed with that awful word “cancer“, I don’t thank my mom enough for the woman she is, for the woman she has raised me to be.
This Mother’s Day, I would like to thank all of you moms for pouring into the children in your life, whether biological or adopted or honorary. The world is a better place for all you have done.
P.S. We’d love to know your thoughts; be sure to share in the comments section below. This month we will draw TEN winners from our commenters and the winners will receive one of these two books, Hope for a Hurting Heart or To Let You Know I Care by our featured author this month, Cheryl Karpen.
Laura Hyers is a Tampa native, writer, and the newly wed wife of musician Caleb. She recently graduated from the University of South Florida with a bachelor’s degree in psychology with a concentration in literature and is currently teaching preschool. When not chasing a class of two-year-olds, Laura is writing and fighting fierce bouts of wanderlust. She loves music, reading, being near the ocean, and dreaming big over huge cups of coffee with her best friend Lakin. Laura blogs at http://littlebirdmarie.blogspot.com.
Read more encouraging stories from brave-hearted women here. Be sure to grab your free copy of inspirational quotes and writing prompts while you’re there. (Look over on the right hand side!)