I love my mother. She is my hero. She somehow managed to raise me and my brother without killing us. That in and of itself is a major accomplishment. She drove us to Brownie and Cub Scout meetings, Swimming lessons, piano lessons, band practices, and whatever else that we needed to do.
She taught us compassion. Everytime, my brother or I would say something bad about somebody, she would reply, “Well, they probably think you’re weird/silly/stupid or whatever insult you laid into them, too” For some reason, it managed to teach us that your opinion is only an opinion and to be wary of what you say about others because well, they might be saying it about you, too.
She is the person that tends to sick. She is the one who offers to stay with the friends and family members in ICU so that the immediate family can go out and eat or take a nap in a comfortable bed. When her neighbor was rendered legally blind due to macular degeneration, my mother drove her to all her appointments, took her grocery shopping, helped her clean her house, and helped her with her checkbook. My neighbor was so impressed with my Mom, she said, “If I had know how great Gwen was, I would have hung out with her more often years ago.”
My mother is a quiet woman and as a result, not everyone “gets” her. She’s the best listener in the world. Sometimes, she’s so good at listening that a lot of people get wrapped up in their own lives and story telling that they forget to ask. I learned the perils of self centeredness from that.
In fact, my mother was so good at nurturing that when I was in college and I found out that my brother and father were going away, I asked her “what are you going to do?” and offered to come back home and stay with her. She laughed at me. I’m sure she laughed at me a lot harder when she got off the phone but she was so good at it, I could only ponder what she could possibly do.
So today I thank my Mom for all that patience and hard work. I hope I’ve made her proud.
, even if 
