To Mom,

           My mother. There’s no one like her. Gentle yet strong, independent yet dependable. She is the one I run to when I’ve had a bad day at school. She is the one I run to when I fight with my sister. She is my mother. That title is so fitting. You’d mother anything you could, an animal or child, and you’d do it well. All of those nights when different people slept on our couch. Southern hospitality at its finest. Those Tennessee girls. Sure your mother and father had a big part in helping you become who you are, but you have helped not only your five kids become who they are, but every one else who has stepped into your house as well. And what an example you are, of strength, of a good friend, of a reliable neighbor, of a godly woman. You made sure we were where we needed to be on Sunday mornings and Wednesday nights, even if it meant you had to fight us to get us there. We are more than thankful, and I know that your three girls hope to become half the woman and mom that you are. I also know your two boys will one day hope to find a wife as loving and encouraging and helpful as you’ve been to dad. It’s really quite a miracle but no wonder that God put two amazing people together to be our parents. He knew it would take two wonderful, strong, funny, outgoing and gentle parents to raise these five crazy kids as well as y'all did. Fifty years and I hope you have fifty more to go. I thank God often that we were the lucky ones. Never having to know what a broken split up family felt like. Never having to worry about money because you and dad planned well. Teaching us the importance of family, friendship, love and caring for one another. You were by my side when I had to say goodbye to Diamond for the second time, sharing the pain and those tears is one thing I remember well. It seems that in my memories the times I’ve spent spilling tears you were always there trying to understand my fight and feeling the pain as strongly as I. It’s no wonder God gave me you as a mother. You’re so strong yet you’re not afraid to cry with your children. So gentle yet stern enough to tell us what we need to hear. With your arms always ready to embrace us and whatever we were carrying on our shoulders, wanting to fix every problem and take away every pain, not always knowing how, but doing your best anyways, and that always somehow helped. And if I could I would give you the ‘Best Mom of All Time’ award, not just because I love you when we’re not fighting, but because when we are I know all I have to do is hug you and all the hurt I was feeling, for whatever reason, seemed to vanish as you wrapped your arms around me too. I know I can come to you with anything, even if that anything is scary to talk about or I cant seem to get it all out, I know you’ll do your best to try and understand. I know you’re always here to listen, and laugh at all my lame jokes, even when they aren’t funny. And I remember sitting on your bathtub crying, for what seemed like hours, and there was nothing anyone could do to make it better, we all just had to let it pass, but I know you wanted so badly to end the pain and hurt even if you didn’t know how so instead you hated the one who caused it. And I know that you care more than anything so I write this hoping to thank you for all that you’ve done and continue to do. You’re the mom that everyone wants but we’re lucky enough to have. And so what we have a 10 o’clock curfew, or still have a baby sitter when you and dad are out of town, you’re just trying to do what’s best for us and I’d choose that any day over a mother who doesn’t care what their kids do, it really does speak volumes, even if right now we may not appreciate it, we will in the future.

So thank you, for being there when we got off the bus after a long day at school, having to wipe away my tears once again because that girl made me upset for the hundredth time. Thank you for holding us back a year, letting us grow into our age rather than just throwing us into the big bad world. Thank you for making sure we say “Mom, we’re leaving, love you!” right before we walk out the door. Thank you for leaving the door unlocked even when we move away. Thank you for treating our best friends like your own sons and daughters even if you know they aren’t the best for us. Thank you for always having the fridge full and leaving the light on. Thank you for waking us up each morning with a loud, cheery, “rise and shine for the light has come! Isaiah 60:1” and that was probably the first Bible verse I memorized. Thank you for pulling us out of the eight grade when we were all fed up with it and couldn’t handle it any more. That year helped us learn and grow better than any school ever could. Thank you for always being the mom what we need and not just the mom that we want. One day I’ll have children and they will have the best grandparents (besides mine of course) that anyone could ever want or need. Thank you for believing in me and furthering my dreams by encouragement alone. Thank you for being such a good judge of character that even when I don’t want to see or believe it, you’re already preparing for the big let down. Thank you for accepting all three of us when you got the news and not being like Skyler and wanting just one. Thank you for making me that much more like you, with my name starting with an ‘M’ instead of going with the rest of the family, Tucker, Tanner, Skyler, Spencer, just like you with your sister’s, Terri, Toya, Tandy, and Sonni. I like to pretend you did it on purpose. Thank you for being my super hero, the holder of band aids, the one with the magic kisses that always seem to make the scrapes feel better, the one who could always use a hug when I needed one, the one who cries when we cry, the one who laugh’s when we laugh. Thank you for being strong when we couldn’t be, for being soft when we were hard to reach, and thank you for being a broken record who’s actions always seemed to say ‘I love you’. Thank you for being my mother.