I wrote a blog about my Dad for Father’s Day. As expected, I think it was a little overwhelming for him to read. Probably brought him as close to tearing up as a man of his composure gets. So now it’s time to make my mom cry a bunch! She doesn’t quite have the emotional resolve my Father does. So Mom, I’m sorry in advance.
My mom is my best friend. No competition. She is the biggest pain in the butt I know, and stresses me out to the point of prematurely balding. But that woman has more love to give than anyone else I have ever had the pleasure to meet.
My mom is fiercely protective. Sure, it can be annoying, like writing on the world race parents Facebook page that her baby boy is being mistreated overseas…thanks mom…still get made fun of. But it’s an endearing quality. There is not another person on the face of this earth that is more loyal to me than my mother.
My mom is tough as freaking nails. My mom is a survivor. She was born into a dirt poor family and that’s given her immense drive. She never stops living life. Heck, she doesn’t even stop moving! She wakes up, hikes, cooks, plays tennis, cooks again, plays tennis again, hikes again, and then miraculously still has time to rub it in my face that she took more steps on her Fitbit than me.
My mom is funny. Like, REALLY funny. A lot of people say I’m pretty weird and embarrassing. Well…you can thank my mom for those quirks. Pranks and gags are a common occurrence at my house. So much so that nobody is willing to stand next to the pool out of fear of being pushed in.
My mom is my home. I don’t know else to say it. I was an only child, and while that bothers a lot of kids, it never really bothered me. I was never bored in my house. I mean, maybe I said I was a lot, but I never really was. She was always there to entertain me. Board games, conversations, making fun of each other. Whatever it was I needed, she provided. It’s not normal for a 27 year old man to call his mom every day. But I do. Not out of obligation, but solely because she is the person I’m closest to in life.
There isn’t anybody in my life rooting for me more than my mom. Since day one, she has had my back. I’ve been through a lot of ups and downs and she has walked with me through those times with immense care. There was a time when she was raising me as a single mother. I don’t remember that time personally, but I think about it a lot. There was probably a time when she was 23 and scared of the fact that she was young and about to have a kid. But she loved me then. She didn’t give up on me then. And she hasn’t since. Never once.
Not one day in my life have I ever had to question my moms love for me. That’s not something I take lightly. That’s not something everyone can say.
Truth is, I haven’t always been the best son. A good son, yes. But not the best. I haven’t poured life into my parents like they have into me. I have valued my time in front of the tv more than the conversations over dinner. I have valued the meal that my mom has prepared more than the experience of cooking it together. I have valued the comforts they have provided to me more than the effort it took for them to provide them. That’s all changed.
I’m writing this from an undisclosed area of rural India. I’ve had white rice for a week straight. No internet obviously and I’m showering with a bucket. I spend 5 hours a day in a car driving to “nearby” villages to share God’s love. I do this to give hope to the hopeless. I’m trying to lead others into the church. Into a relationship with a God that loves them. Something my mom did for me when I was in 6th grade. A decision that drastically changed my life and eternity. It took me being thrown into a world of zero provisions to see how much has been provided for me.
So now I will go home with new perspective. Mom, thank you. For every ounce of effort you’ve put into making my life one of immense joy, laughs, and love. Thank for you forcing me to go to church with the promise of a pancake breakfast all those years ago. Your decision to obey God’s calling in your life led to mine. Which led to the work I am doing across the globe.
And on a personal note, it led to the work God has done in my heart. I’m not the same guy anymore. The short temper, the arrogance, the complacency. It’s all gone. I’m walking with a light heart now. I wasted the first 27 years of my life being pissed off for no reason. The next 60 will be spent rectifying that. My mom did an amazing job raising me. God just finished the work.
Mom, I know you’re sad that you couldn’t come to pvt with the other parents. Probably kicking yourself for not coming. But, just know that I’m stuck in the freaking bush of India, middle of nowhere with a skin rash and diarrhea while everyone else is in the city because of that. Just kidding…mostly. To be honest, I’m glad you didn’t come. Having you show up and leave would have made staying out here that much harder. So I’m grateful you’re in the states. And I’ll see you soonish. I miss my best friend. I miss home…a lot. And my freaking dog. And toast. Gah! Anyway, just know that I’m coming back home a better son. I can’t quite come home yet. God still has work to do in me and I still have work to do out here. But I found purpose after a lot of years of wandering around aimlessly. And I’m coming home with a new heart. Thank you for your continual support in all that I do. Thank you for your prayers. Thank you for being my mom. Thank you for being my best friend.
K, also, total side note, I’ve had ban mi and spring rolls in Asia and they suck compared to yours. You make Asian food better than Asia! Congrats! Love you. *secret wave
