She mommed me. She mommed me good.

A soft stroke of her hand across my face when I was feeling scared.

A warm hug when I couldn’t figure out what to do.

A patient heart when I started slamming doors.

But mostly time. Not just passing time, but hours spent with me and sacrificed for me. 

Seconds, minutes, hours, days, and years of concern and unconditional love.

That’s how the word Mom turned into a verb.

She would mom me at church.  She’d play with my fingers and let me wear her rings as I looked up and admired her beautiful alto voice and her dedicated faith, dreaming of the day when I would become her.  

She would mom me when I fought with my siblings, sending me to my room after I lost my temper, but ultimately knowing it wouldn’t last long. She must have missed momming because she’d welcome me back with open arms after a brief hiatus. Her love wasn't hinged on my behavior. 

Her love made the sun rise, the flowers bloom and it swallowed me whole

every

single 

day. 

She even mommed me when I wasn’t home.  After making a terrible decision to put myself in a precarious situation after a dance, I wondered how in the world I would make it home safely. Miraculously, I was able to get home unscathed and share the story with her. During that time she had been prompted to get on her knees and pray for my safety.

 Of course she listened.

Of course she did everything in her power to save me.

Her momming extended to everything she touched. She made outfits, afghans, toys and birthday cakes. She carefully crafted Halloween costumes and lovingly crocheted Easter baskets and Christmas stockings. She didn’t have social media lingering at her fingertips, waiting to be awed by her gifted artistry, but seemed quite content being paid with the excited smiles of her children. 

Eventually, I became a mother myself.  It took me all of 2 days to come to the conclusion that

 I COULDN’T MOM. 

I couldn’t possibly. 

It was hard and frustrating and exhausting and hard again.  

I didn’t realize that young moms were always drowning, 

they just had an uncanny ability to make it look like they were water skiing. 

I didn’t have that. 

So she came to the rescue. 

She came over and mommed with me, and her momming looked even more…grand.

What happens when you have a mother who moms really well? 

You have a million memories of her laughs and her hugs and her words of encouragement. You can still hear her cheers that have evolved from rowdy ball games and are now focused on important life decisions.  

You know you deserve to be loved because 

you have always been cared for and valued and cherished.  

And you know,

without a doubt, 

that there’s nothing more precious in this world 

than the love of a good mother.