Happy Mother's Day, mom.

I have memories of you I can't quite recall, that I can't summon up by will from the earliest moments of my existence.

The gentle sound of your beating heart that brought me comfort and security as you carried me in your womb, in the place where I was nurtured and cherished and loved, before I was even born. The sound of your voice as you sang and laughed and cried, as I grew inside you, water and blood insulating me from the harsh circumstances surrounding my birth.

You kept me safe.

I have memories of you from my childhood.

Some of them are clear and bright, others are muted and blurred. I remember you singing as you played your piano, your instrument of stress relief, the place you'd sit and find God in the every day crazy. I remember the nightly prayers, the gentle baths, the birthday parties, the love you stuffed into Christmas stockings and Easter baskets.

I remember the nights I was afraid, when you'd lovingly pad the floor next to your bed with blankets and let me stay close to you throughout the night. The nightmares faded into my memory, but your tenderness did not. I remember the rhythmic sound of your breathing lulling me back to sleep.

You were still keeping me safe.

As life has gone on, I've realized that the same security your beating heart brought me in the womb is still with me. If I am very quiet, I can hear it. It will forever influence who I am and it will forever connect us. I am your blood, your flesh, your bone. I am your daughter, your firstborn, your friend.

Our relationship has survived mountains and valleys. The emotions we feel toward one another are always intense; they are fierce and gentle all at once.

You are my mother, and you are my friend.

But you are so much more to me than that.

You have been Jesus to me, from my earliest memory. You have been His hands and feet to me, over and over and over.

You are the mom who took groceries to my friend's mother when you discovered they had none.

No, I haven't forgotten that.

You were the cool class mom who I was always proud to claim in front of all of my friends.

You're the mom who will still straighten or highlight my hair for me, even now in my mid thirties.

You are the mom who wants to fix all the ugly, the sicknesses I suffer with, the broken, painful father-daughter relationships, the financial worries. I see the helplessness on your face, I feel the ache in your heart. I sense your heartbeat, steady and constant, connecting us stronger still.

You still long to keep me safe.

And I know this will remain, until you take your final breath.

You are my mother, and you are my friend.

You are my constant. You have been the greatest human example of unconditional love I have ever witnessed. You love big and wide and deep and faithful, and I will be forever grateful that God chose you to be mine, for me to be yours.

For all the ways you have kept me safe, for all the ways you still do; for the constant, gentle beating of your heart that I will carry with me always, happy, happy mother's day, mom.

I love you wildly, tenderly, and even a little bit madly.

From my earliest memory to my last breath.

With love,
~amy