My mom not only gave me life, she saved my life. Figuratively, sure. Many times. But also in the literal way. The way that requires the Heimlich maneuver to be performed or oxygen would never reach those 8-year-old lungs again. I’m not proud of the fact that I choked on Golden Grahams cereal rather than something more glamorous like steak or grapes. But I am proud of the fact that my mom was a hero that day. And has held that title for forty years.

I’ve heard my mom of three daughters say, “When you have daughters, you have friends for life.”

I know this sentiment does not apply to all mothers and daughters. This is a broken world with fractured relationships. Or sometimes the “for life” part is far shorter than it should be.

Just like other relationships, we’ve had our spats, but it’s a privilege that her statement can be our motto. 

Forty years of receiving. 

Sacrificial friendship, wise mentorship, and unconditional love have been bestowed upon me in both big and small ways. Some life-altering. She has been a caregiver in both my childhood and adult years, performing glitzy jobs like pulling teeth and cleaning out post-op drain tubes. She has been thrust into dark crisis situations, providing the fierce and nurturing aid of an advocate. The support she willingly gave to my former single-mom self is a priceless gift that can never be repaid. But even if it could be, she wouldn’t expect it or accept it. 

Forty years of watching. 

As she pours herself into her family, as well as countless others, I am viewing a “how to” on life. I watch as she navigates the fragile caring of aging parents and as she gracefully said goodbye to her father. I watch as she encourages women in their fitness journeys and couples in their marriages. I watch as she loves on her children and grandchildren despite the miles that separate them. I watch the almost miraculous way she ages in reverse, becoming more youthful with each passing year. I watch as she faithfully reads her Bible, and as she displays scripture around her home while hiding it in her heart.

Forty years of learning. 

My relationship with Jesus began with my parents. I have learned what it means to be a godly woman through the words and actions of my mom. And the list of lessons I have learned in the “School of Mom” is a long one. She taught me how to swim before I could even walk, how to bake, how to write thank you notes, how to sew, how to water ski, how to save money, how to set a table, how to treat a running injury, how to be a wife and a mother. The list goes on and continues to grow.

Forty years of legacy-building (and counting). 

Every single time I approached a birthday I was asked what type of cake I wanted. There was not a single year that I celebrated with a store-bought cake. My mom made each one from scratch and then decorated it according to whatever crazy theme I desired. This act displayed not only her talent and love for the birthday girl but also her frugal nature. This is merely one aspect I strive to carry on with my kids. Her love of travel and the outdoors, I continue through camping with my family. Her love of feeding people, I try to perpetuate with the weekly use of my mixer. Her love of fitness, I carry on and encourage my kids to be active. Her love of missions and discipleship, I seek to prioritize. Her love for my dad and intentionality in marriage, I strive to mirror in my own. And her excellent Grana-ness, I one day hope to emulate.

Mom, forty years you’ve been a great mother. But you’ve been an amazing woman for longer than that. You’re not only the mom God knew I needed, you are my friend for life.

And I hope I never have to perform the Heimlich on my kids, but if I do, I hope I do it as well as you did. 

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