We’ve had a great time over the last few weeks helping customers of all ages pick out the perfect gift for the moms in their lives. Watching them light up over the perfect dress, the right accessory — the item that makes someone feel seen and celebrated — has been such a joy. Then come the wrappings, ribbons, and bows that make the gift even more special.
As I reflect on Mother’s Day, I can’t help but think of the woman who shaped my life far more than any trend ever could — my mama.
My mama was the baby of fifteen children — raised not only by her incredible parents but by a whole team of older siblings, nieces, and nephews who helped shape the woman she became. And from the very beginning, she’s always been more than just my mother — she’s been my very best friend.
That’s not the norm for most teenagers, I know. Science says our peers take center stage during those formative years, but that just wasn’t the case for me. When I smoked my first (and last) cigarette, I came straight home and told her. I knew I couldn’t hide anything — she’d see it written all over my face. When my friends and I planned to sneak out, I told her everything — what time, who we were with, when we’d be back — and then we did exactly what we said we’d do. That’s the kind of trust and connection we’ve always had.
I remember my senior year, finding the perfect black brocade jacket with velvet trim for homecoming. I asked her to sew me a long fitted black velvet skirt to match — slit in the back, just how I imagined it. I worked that day, got my hair done, came home to get dressed… and there it was. The skirt was on the ironing board, scorched in the front by an iron left too long. I cried. She cried. And in the quiet afterward, when I realized how bad she felt, my heart broke. That night, I had my first panic attack — not because of the skirt, but because I had hurt the one person who’s only ever wanted the best for me.
My mom is the original MacGyver. She can turn just about anything into something useful. She’s clever, resourceful, and works magic with her hands. She’ll tell you algebra was her nemesis in high school, but it never slowed her down in life. Throughout my childhood she made a good bit of my clothes. When I wanted the same brands and styles as my peers, she usually made them over. I was a bit overweight, short and hard to fit!
She’s faced more than her share of health challenges, but she still walks five miles a day with her friends when she can. She and my dad are raising my nephew after the heartbreaking loss of my sister — and she’s doing it with love, strength, and faith. That’s just who she is. Her belief in God isn’t shaken by hard times; it’s strengthened by them. And in all things, she shows love — whether she’s raising a child, caring for someone at the end of life, or just living her everyday example of grace.
I can’t fry chicken like she can. And I can only make rice with a store-bought cooker. But I hope I’ve inherited just a little of her heart, her grit, and her deep well of love.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mama. You are everything I aspire to be.
April