My Mother

This follow-up piece to the "My Father" segment has been too long in coming, but here it is anyway:

To speak of my mother is to not do her person justice. Someone more hardworking, dedicated, and faithful will be very difficult to come across again in life. 

Her strength of spirit single-handedly kept the family together even in it's most trying times. Energy that was always approaching miraculous. A woman that would still be working when even us kids were bone-tired. Her faith has always been a cornerstone of her strength and willpower, and it continues to be something of amazing power to this day. 

We didn't always have it easy as a family, especially as far as finances were concerned. It seemed that every time my folks would decide to do something else related to their faith, it would immediately be tested by even greater hardships to overcome. 

One continuous hardship was our education. When I was in the second grade, a confluence of difficult events in California led my parents to decide (rather fortuitously) that spending more time in the public education system was going to do nothing but damage their children. They removed me from the public school I had been attending, and decided to begin the arduous process of home schooling. When they discovered that the programs that had been recommended to them were entirely too unchallenging and uninspired, they sought long and hard for the most challenging program out there - and found an excellent curriculum. The only problem was that it was outrageously expensive. They decided it was the right thing to do, however, and they set about making it a budgetary priority. All year they worked and saved so that at the end of the academic year they would be ready to purchase the next year's books. Thankfully, many would recycle to the two younger siblings, making the cost amortize a little.

But obtaining the books was not enough - someone had to actually prepare the lessons and do the work of teacher. And to this task, she dedicated herself for almost one and a half decades. Every weekend was the same - her delving into the material for the next week's work, and preparing a lesson plan. At first it was just for me, but then she added one, and finally two more students to this curriculum. The preparation would consume her entire weekend excluding the time spent at church. She never had time to dedicate to herself or any other activities over the weekend, because she was too busy preparing for us.

But this dedication was not in vain. I am certain that her hard work has led directly to my academic success. I can say, with confidence, that few students have been so blessed as to have such a dedicated and successful teacher. From about the 6th or 7th grade on until my graduation, I routinely tested as "post-high school" level on all the standardized tests I would take to validate my progress with the U.S. academic system (things like the Stanford test, etc.). This, as I have mentioned before, was not because I am in any way exceptionally smart. I know exceptionally smart people, and I am certainly not one of those gifted - it was simply the dedication of a teacher that knew we could achieve so MUCH more than we had been told we could by the standard channels.

This constant work and dedication would have been sufficient to merit such a high regard, but this is not nearly all that she did to impress upon me the special place she holds among her peers. Another example of strength and dedication is a period when my parents decided to become full-time missionaries. Before they got their support fully lined up, we had a very difficult financial time. My parents had a hard time keeping the budget together - food and scholastic supplies, not to mention their fledgling ministry (in that order of importance). There was an entire period there where my mother obtained the money for week-to-week food purchases by HANDMAKING bible covers - at home, in her "spare" time between caring for our home, preparing for our schoolwork, and helping in the new ministry. Many of us still have our covers to remind us of those days and what it took to get through them.

As I've grown up and moved on out of the house and into my own life, I have grown ever  more amazed at how this one woman has been the cornerstone for so many things. For all of the praise I have heaped upon my father, it is inexorably linked to his serendipitous marriage to my mother. As much as she has been such a magnificent mother and example, she has been an even stronger wife. My father owes as much of his current state of being to her as any of us do, and none of us will ever be able to thank her enough.


When I was younger, I used to resent the fact that my mother's constant haranguing of my work ethic was usually followed by "I do this because I love my future daughter-in-law so much…I am making a good husband for her". I used to believe that if she needed to care about someone, she should care about ME, not her future, IF ANY, daughter-in-law.

Now that I have had time to reflect on how my father has turned out from being married to such a magnificent wife, I again am humbled by how blessed I have been in life, and can hope that someday I am, as aforementioned, half the man that my father has turned out to be. In such a blissful case, I would owe it all to the relentless efforts of one blessed blessing herself - my mother.

I (Heart) Mom is a tattoo that most men would wear proudly - but only few are blessed enough to be able to know it would be also deserved.