A Very Special Day

In case you didn’t know it, today’s a very special day.

‘Cause it’s my Mom’s birthday.

She’s out of state at the moment, so we’re not going to get to do anything for her birthday. And I can’t buy her anything, because, well, she throws a fit if you try to do THAT, heaven forbid. So I thought the least I could do was say a few words about her here on her very special day.

Of course, every guy says he loves his mom these days, ever since football players somehow made that cool. But I think I’ve got more reasons that most to think mine is awesome. Funny thing is, if you know my mother? You already know exactly what I’m talking about.

My mother is a magnet, and people are uncontrollably drawn to her. She’s a force of nature – if there were such a thing in nature as a hurricane or tornado that actually makes you feel good. She has always accepted people just as they are – which has made for some interesting houseguests during my lifetime, believe me... If you’re a person with no one else in your life, then she’s the one person that you do have, and always will. She loves people with a genuineness that never falters, never judges, never sets conditions. To meet her is to have her become your friend…your sister…your mother…your grandmother…your guidance counselor…your life coach…your cheerleader…your unexpected angel. I can pretty much guarantee you that no one who’s met her once has ever forgotten her. You’ll never see someone look across a crowd and see her and think, “She looks familiar. I wonder if we’ve met before?”. That’s just not the kind of impression she makes.

She’s always been, and continues to be, my idol in so many ways. I wouldn’t understand the word “faith” without her. Hers is always there. And it’s not blind. She’s taught me, through example, that faith isn’t not being afraid. It’s fearing and moving forward anyway. Her constant and relentless selflessness is something I can never hope to fully match, but at the very least emulate. Again, I refer you to those who know her already. They will tell you. Tell you of a woman who gives and gives, never asking anything in return, never needing thanks. It’s been said that you can’t please everyone. She still seems convinced that she’s the one person who can pull it off. So many of us owe her so much, from great things to (often more importantly) small, and yet, there’s no payment she’d ever accept from us. Ask them. They will tell you.

But what they won’t be able to tell you is about a mother in a doctor’s office, being told the unthinkable about her young child. One sitting through countless doctor visits thereafter, dealing with each new frustration, each battle against the apathy of the medical institution, each new prediction of doom. One sitting in waiting rooms during surgeries, sleeping in chairs next to hospital beds, dealing with long recoveries at home. One that always stayed positive, always giving that child hope as he grew, always making him feel that he was just like everyone else, despite what “everyone else” had to say on the matter. One who never gave up, and taught her child the same. Neither of them ever has. And neither ever will.

They won’t be able to tell you because that’s my story alone. And it’s the reason for who I am today, and where I am today. There’s no part of me she did not shape. And I’m thankful, every day, for the gift of being able to see the world through her eyes. To me, life is a wondrous, bright and hopeful place, where everyone has good in them (if you look deep enough) and where anything in possible.

How do I know?

‘Cause my Mom told me so.

Happy birthday, Mom. Thank you for all you mean to me, and for all you mean to all of us. Not a one of us can imagine our lives without you in them. Thank you for always being able to turn ordinary into special, adversity into opportunity, tears into smiles. Thank you for making the world brighter just by being in it. Thank you for everything.

I love you.

Michael