Do you see that woman in the back of the photo? Way back in the back. Behind the men who have no problem taking the spotlight. With her little hand up in the air? That’s my mom.
She isn’t actually my biological mom. Which makes this story even more amazing.
Unfortunately, at the age of 4, my biological mother died suddenly and unexpected with complication from a sinus infection. It was bizarre and uncommon. It left my dad a widower, and me and my 1-year-old brother without a mom.
After much time passed and many sleepless nights, and after a tragedy that she suffered, my dad starting dating this lady that I now call “mom”.
Eventually, they married. I was not very nice at first. But she loved and served me anyway. My brother had colic and didn’t sleep through the night until he was almost ready to go to school. She loved and served him anyway.
My dad was still very close to the family of his now deceased first wife and he wanted us boys to keep in touch with the aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents from that family. My new step-mother was thrust into that environment without much discussion. She just loved and served.
She just loved and served
In fact, her love for my dad and us boys was demonstrated by just how much she served us. It didn’t matter that we were terrible kids. It didn’t matter that my brother and I fought with each other like rival gangs. It didn’t even matter that we were mean to her and if not mean we were often just neutral.
We did very little to offer her reciprocal love. But she loved and served us anyway. That photo at the beginning of this post is how she likes to live her life. In the background. Cleaning, cooking, serving and loving.
I would think that just about every person living on the planet desires some kind of recognition. Everyone wants to be patted on the back. And I am sure that mom feels that way, too. But I have NEVER once witnessed it.
She just, day-after-day, sometime minute-by-minute took care of us boys and helped us to become men. I include my dad in that. She was good for him, too. Steadfast. Unwavering. Diligent. Humble.
Selfless
She’s the one that you “don’t see” in photos. She in inconspicuous. She is hiding in plane site. She is trying to avoid photos. She is dying to get back to serving, and servants – true servants – believe that photo shoots and accolades just keep them from doing their job.
This describes my mom. Every meal was cooked and cleaned up with nothing buy oozing love. Every load of laundry was done happily with our comfort in mind. Every time we were home from school due to sickness it was just an extra way for her to serve and love. Every ball game was a way for her to watch us and love us more. And every scrapped knee from that ballgame was a way to serve us better.
In todays world of fake moms showing off on Instagram and TikTok, my mom mastered motherhood WAY before any of those folks had any idea what they were doing.
My mom showed us CONSISTENT love, LONG-SUFFERING service and TRUE, GENUINE humility.
If there was ever anyone who mastered it, it was her. But don’t ask her, because she’s too busy taking care of others to answer your silly questions.
Yes, she disciplined us. Often, I might add. But I never felt like it was out of anger. It was out of her desire to make us boys be good husbands. She was playing the long game – for her future daughters-in-law. Mom took the hits and loving worked on all our flaws so that our wives could benefit.
Yes, now that my brother and I are married with kids we recognize the kind of unheralded saint that she was and still is. And yes, we try to reciprocate our love to her as best we can.
Once, after a particularly wonderful holiday meal, my brother said “Mom, this was fantastic!” We all, like at the end of a great concert, spontaneously stood to our feet to give her a rousing, standing ovation. She just sat there and giggled and waved us all off. I knew in her heart she appreciated the love, but she didn’t want it nor did she need it. But we try. We try to give her love and serve her as best we can.
Hopefully, we can be the men that she helped mold us to be. Hopefully, we are remotely close to being the husbands and fathers that she groomed us to be. Hopefully she knows that we can never really express to her how we feel because we couldn’t finish without crying.
But that is the thing about moms in general and certainly about my mom. She is content being in the background serving and loving.
