Happy Birthday Mom!

If you know me well, you know I like to preface much of what I say.  With that said, this blog post is more for me than it is for those reading it.  However, I want to thank you for taking the time to read this; there are few things I appreciate more than the opportunity to talk about my mom. Below, you’ll find what I would have said five years ago at my mom’s memorial had I had the strength.  May my words honor her.

My mom passed away on her 48^th birthday.  For some reason, I find this strangely fitting.  As much as her death devastated me, I’ve never doubted that God took her exactly according to his time.  My mom was the kind of lady whose life would come full circle.  I have yet to meet anyone who appreciated life the way my mom did.  My pursuit to be fully me, authentic in all I do, stems from her influence.  She was so comfortable in her own skin, never trying to be someone she wasn’t.

My mom was a woman of adventure. In her short life, she trekked through the Amazon jungle, searched and found her birth parents, started two successful companies (one of which was a private-i company) and mothered four children. She even looked into joining the FBI, but she was too old to apply:)

I am committed to honoring my mom with my dreams and actions.  My mom was the kind of lady who would not only tell me I can be anything I want to be, she would help me research how to become it.  That’s why my sister and I often joke about our over confidence in things (Angela saying she knows she can become the United States president if desired.  Me saying I can become an astronaut if I were willing to move across the country). 

When I was in first grade my mom went to New York City.  Her excitement following the trip stuck with me.  I became obsessed with all things New York; I even did my sixth grade state report on New York. My mom saw my excitement and promised me that when I turned sixteen, she would take me there for my birthday. Growing up, we didn’t have a lot of money. Our family vacations consisted of driving four hours to visit Grandma and Grandpa in the desert.  Thus, I didn’t take her promise lightly. And sure enough, the week I turned sixteen, my mom and I took my first of many trips to New York City.

I remember an interesting conversation we had years later regarding the trip.  She asked me if I ever doubted we would go to New York for my sixteenth birthday.  I told her it never crossed my mind; I never doubted it.  She used this conversation to illustrate the power of setting my mind to something, the power of creating dreams and living to see them come true.

As my wedding approaches, I find myself missing her more and more. I wish she were here to see me now, to be at my wedding, to see my new home, to go shopping with me for a wedding dress. But I’m a better person because of the trials and pain I’ve gone through. I’ve learned that there is pain in this world, that life isn’t fair, and that my only hope, is the hope I have in Jesus, the hope of believing I’ll see her again. I love you mom. Thank you for the twenty wonderful years you gave me.