I was a daydream-y type kid so sometimes I’d daydream I had a different sort of mama than the one God had given me. I’d daydream she was more like the young and perky housewife with the fashionable capri pants who lived next door, or like my friend’s mama with the beauty shop hair and ever-present pearl earrings. I’d daydream she was the type of mama that I could confide all of my secrets to, a mama/best friend, like a friend had told me her mama was to her. I daydreamed that Mama was less no-nonsense, and more the type to fuss and fawn over me.
But Mama wasn’t fancy and she wasn’t very emotionally expressive. Mama was hardworking, enduring and faithful. I know sometimes the death of a loved one can cause us to forget their faults and idealize them. I don’t think I’ve done that with Mama. I still remember her shortcomings. What I do think about, still so often even four years after her death, is how much I miss her. Because Mama was one very important thing to me.
Mama was always there. Mama was my home.
This post is part of the My Faith Heroine Series in conjunction with the release of
50 Women Every Christian Should Know: Learning from Heroines of the Faith. Click here to read other posts in the #MyFaithHeroine series.