Somewhere in time there was a woman who lay my head on her shoulder and paced the floors at night so that I could sleep. She wiped poop from my diaper-rashed-bottom, planned dinners around my never ending allergies and cleaned bright red vomit from her pretty tan carpet, after I drank way too much Faygo.
Somewhere in time, there was a woman, who worried that I was too hot or too cold or too tired. She lost sleep when I was sick, did battle with uptight teachers on my behalf and went without food when times were tough.
There was a woman, out there, in the universe, who watched me become the loud, obnoxious, chatterbox child. She prayed for the anti-social loner of a teenager and the young-woman of a rebel who dated outcasts. She hung to God and patience when I turned 18, as I declared that college just wasn't my thing. Then she watched me move away from home with $50 in my pocket, clad in a midriff shirt, flip-flops on my feet....in the car she and dad had bought for me.
As I grew and struggled to find my way, she prayed, she waited, she was patient. Tired and weary, she longed for the days to hold the crying child who could not sleep. She longed to clean vomit from pretty tan carpet.
She prayed to God that I could navigate life without a college degree, without a husband; without a lick of sense in my head. She watched me wait tables, make license plates and travel from this apartment in that state, to the next one in another state....living on Ramen Noodles and pasta.
She held me in her heart, knowing that I had to make my own way...the hard way. She offered help and she offered advice, yet I would not have it. "I knew it all and she knew nothing. I was strong; Stronger than her." My words pressed painfully upon her ears, yet she loved me, held me in her heart and prayed.
What I did not know then...what I could not know then...is that I was weak. I was so very weak, but I was not alone. I have never been alone.
My mother had held my fragile infant body up before God...before I even knew what a treasure I had in her. Before I could breathe the air of this world, before I could make the mistakes that were to come; She bathed me in fervent tears and blew my struggles away with the whispering wind of her prayers.
The very essence of my thoughts; the steps of my fumbling feet, my incapable hands, my inadequate mind; All that I had done or ever would do in my life was held up before God by the hands of my mother and she never let me down.
The love of my life, the college degree, the children I have today, my home, my health, my everything, were hard fought battles won willingly, patiently and quietly. She would not give up. She never gave up.
I had a warrior mom. I have her to this day. Her love built my backbone, her prayers built my character. She loved me, knew me, and introduced me to God. I am so blessed and so very humbled to have always been loved by a warrior.