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A few weeks ago, after speaking with my mum and seeing her fragile smile and white hair on the screen, I felt my heart tighten. I sat there for a bit, just remembering, with gratitude, how much of a pillar she has been, not just to me, but to all of us.
My favourite memory will always be when I gave birth to my first child 16 years ago. Nothing in the parenting books I read prepared me for those sleepless nights, for the hormones that made me fuss and cry at everything, the struggle to breastfeed, rest, and make sense of my new phase as a mother responsible for another being. After watching me struggle through the first few nights, Mum quietly asked me to express breast milk and leave it with her at night so I could sleep. Then she took my baby and slept with her each night, feeding her as needed until the early hours. She did this for three weeks while also caring for me until my body and mind settled into motherhood. Honestly, I don’t know how I would have managed that season without her.
I learnt how to take it all to God by watching my mum. She prayed about everything. I remember her telling us how she’d go off into the office restroom on days she was fasting, just to pray. As a child, I’d watch her roll on the floor in gratitude, kneel in adoration, raise her hands in praise. Back then, I didn’t get it. But now, on days when words fail me, I find myself doing the same, rolling on the floor, hands lifted, or just kneeling in thanks. She taught me, without saying a word, how to take everything to God.
My mum taught me resilience long before I learnt the English word for it. She was determined to further her education beyond a high school certificate. She went back to school when she already had three children and was pregnant with her fourth, who’s now 26. I remember the little party we threw when she graduated. I grew up hearing her talk about career progression, her dreams, her business ventures (yes, she tried a few!), and without realising it, I absorbed her resilience, doggedness, and “can-do” spirit.
She was the first to invest in our ability to communicate properly and behave right. She corrected my pronunciation and grammar (even in front of friends, so embarrassing at the time!). But now my kids do the same to me. She wanted people to know we were well-raised. I recall her sitting in the back garden after returning from work, to go through our assignments, correcting until we got it right. When I was preparing for high school exams, she drafted my older brother as my tutor and pushed us both until I got the grades she believed I could achieve.
She reminded us often of her humble background. One of her favourite stories was about watching a neighbour fry onions; she said the smell felt heavenly because her own mother couldn’t afford to cook with them. Even when life got better, she never stopped telling that story, reminding us that what we have now is what others only dream of.
Mum fought for us in public and disciplined us at home. She showed me that sacrifice is at the heart of motherhood. She always ate last, wore whatever she had, and put everyone’s needs before hers. I learnt home management just by watching her, buying in bulk, cooking ahead, stretching meals, and budgeting every penny.
She made every occasion special. Birthdays, our return from boarding school or university, even short visits home from work, she’d sing and praise us for even the smallest gift, and serve a special meal to mark that occasion. She made our house feel like home. She travelled to each of my siblings’ matriculation and graduations, which were all in different cities; there was no distance too far for her to travel for her children.
She taught me how to handle unwanted attention kindly. Once, a boy called me about 60 times in one day (no block button in those days!), and I yelled at him to stop. Mum gently called me aside and said, “Treat people kindly, even those you don’t want in your life.” That one stuck with me.
When I published my first book, Memoirs of a Trendy Mum, and launched Trendy Mum Talks, she was an avid reader and my biggest cheerleader. She read every page, watched every video, and prayed over me.
We are not best friends, and we didn’t twin in matching outfits, but she remains my unsung hero. I remember calling her once from university to say I was sick, and she said, “I know. I saw it in my dream.” That was my mum. Spiritually sensitive, deeply loving, and always connected to us.
Watching age and illness take their toll on her now is hard, but I’m grateful I get to care for her in the little way I and we all can. She isn’t perfect but she is greatness personified. I would choose to be her daughter over and over again. The woman I am today carries her fingerprints everywhere.
As I write this, I’m reminded of God’s promise:
“Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you.” — Isaiah 46:4
That truth has held my mum and me, and it can hold you too, wherever you are in life right now.
Today, I write to remind you to take a moment to honour the hero in your life. It might not be your mother, but there’s always someone who carried you, believed in you, or prayed for you.
- The one who believed in you when no one else did.
- The cheerleader who never gets tired of clapping for you.
- The one who loves deeply and prays over you daily.
- The listening ear that never grows weary of your stories, complaints, or dreams.
- The one who sees your beauty when you can’t.
My word for you today: “To describe my mother would be to write about a hurricane in its perfect power or the climbing, falling colours of a rainbow.”
— Maya Angelou
Love and Blessings
Roseline
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