Mamma Mia

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I can’t believe that on May 14th it will be 15 years since my mother has passed away. This week has been hard on my heart and emotions. It’s been 15 years since I heard her say my name. 15 years since I felt the warmth of her hands. 15 years since I’ve heard her pray and laugh. 15 years since I have seen her stunning face and beautiful smile. I can look at a picture, but it’s just not the same. Today, one day before the anniversary of her death, I want to honour Mamma mia.

As I sit and reflect on who she was and the impact she left on my life, I thought I would share just a few of her amazing characteristics that made her mom, not only to me, but to the women she mentored and shared life with.

I’ve never known anyone who loves as deeply and as fiercely as she did. If you ever had the privilege of meeting my mother, she instantly would love you. She truly reflected the love of God to everyone around her. It didn’t matter what your background was, what your race was, what your socio-economic status was, she simply loved. She loved me at my best and loved me through my worst. Her constant love is what helped me through the toughest years of my life. What would I do without the love of Mamma mia.

My mother, honestly, was one of the most beautiful women I have ever known. She taught me what it meant to be a lady; to love myself enough to be the best me possible through character, confidence, poise and dress. I laugh to this day because my mother would never be caught dead in track pants. We only owned a pair of track pants to wear in the house, even that, only when exercising or sick. My mom was always in heels, and skirt (even when she worked in a spice factory). Her hair was always perfectly coiffed and heaven forbid you lay a finger on a single hair. I can still remember the cloud of hairspray mist that would fill the bathroom as she put the finishing touches on her hair.

My mother was a woman who cared about others more than herself, sometimes to a fault. Every single day she made sure our family had a home cooked meal, even though she was working the afternoon shift. Our clothes were always clean, her hands rubbed raw from scrubbing. Our home was always in perfect order. It was her way of showing us her love. She made sure our home was in order so we could feel peace, instead of unrest from a cluttered home.

Mamma mia above all, loved Jesus so much. Every single day I could hear her spending time with Him each morning and night. She was the one that taught me to be persistent in prayer until the miracle is seen with our natural eyes. I remember her praying a certain prayer for over 25 years, almost on a daily basis, and then one day, all of sudden, her miracle came. I remember the joy and fulfillment I could see in her face that day when her prayer and hearts desire came to pass. On her bed at home during the weeks leading up to her death, she found peace in the word of God. Never once was she angry with God at the fate that lay ahead, but rather constantly gave God honour and praise. Even when she couldn’t raise her left hand as her mobility was affected by a stroke, she would lift it with her good hand, so she could worship Him. On my worst days, I try to remember her attitude and love towards the Lord and remember that even in her illness and pain nothing but worship and praise fell from her lips. She was and still is, the perfect example of a woman who loves God with her whole life and her whole heart.

Now I take comfort in knowing that she is found in the great cloud of witnesses cheering you and me on to finish the race that God has put before us. I want to be like my mom, a woman of strength, of virtue, of character and poise. Most of all I want to follow in my mothers’ footsteps and love my family and those God has placed in my life deeply, and to love God with all that I am.

Mamma, I miss you more than words could ever express. Thank you for being my friend, my confidant, the one I could lean on. I thank God that He let you be my mommy to teach me, to love me.   I love you forever, Mamma mia.

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