When I was 12, I caught a ride with my Grandma to Idaho to visit my cousin Whitney. We made a pit stop at my Aunt Jan’s house where I connected to Wi-Fi and got a text from a well meaning neighbor asking what was going on and why there was an ambulance and police outside of my house. My mom had just gotten a minor surgery a few days before and I suspected it may have had something to do with that. I called my dad over and over again but got nothing but his voicemail.
Eventually my Grandma could tell that something was off and I told her what was going on. She pulled over and called my dad who tearfully told my Grandma that my mom had an allergic reaction to her surgery medication and had stopped breathing in the night. As far as I knew, the future of my mom’s life was pretty uncertain. I prayed over and over again begging Heavenly Father to let my mom live and promised that I would never argue with her or take her for granted if He did. I had an overwhelming feeling of peace come over me and I knew everything would be okay. I remember my Grandma telling me on the side of the freeway that it was my call. We could turn around and head back home, or we could drive to Idaho and hope for the best. The fate of the trip was in my hands. I knew it would be okay. I told my Grandma with confidence that my mom would be fine and we could continue driving to Idaho. And it was okay! Although I have since argued with her and probably have taken her for granted, I feel grateful all of the time that she is still here!
There was another time when I was 20 and moving to Liberia for a few months of humanitarian service. I had already been to college in both Ephraim and Logan, spent a semester in China, and a summer in Texas so I was no stranger to heavy goodbyes. I said goodbye to my dad outside the airport and then my mom walked me inside to check my bags and send me through security. We both cried the whole time. I stepped onto the escalator and turned around for one last wave before she was out of sight. I think that wave with be burned into my brain forever.
Now we live a short 30 minutes away from each other and I see her a few times a week. I am fortunate enough that most of my mornings start with a phone call to my mom.
My mom.
My biggest cheerleader.
Number one fan.
My selfless, kind, genuine, honest, deeply caring mother who always puts me before herself.
My best friend. Truly.
November 1st is my mom’s birthday. I am one of the lucky ones.
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