As Mother’s Day approaches, I think a lot about my mother and all those who have been mother figures to me. Those ladies and I always knew if my mother were not available, I could turn to any of them. The following are just a couple of stories to point this out.

  When I was in high school in the 1960’s and 14th Street in Atlanta was in all of its hippie and flower child glory, my mom and one of my “stand-in” moms went to a program at my school about the temptations facing teenagers in those days. They described the pot houses and porn shops where any unsuspecting teenager could get swept into a life of debauchery and evil living. So, my two mothers decided to go downtown and visit one of these shops just to see what my siblings and I were facing (as if I even knew how to get downtown and if I even wanted to). They parked and found their first “adult entertainment” store and went through the door.

  I have never learned what they saw, but I do know they didn’t make it through the curtain in the back before they rushed out of the store like Lucy and Ethel on a mission. It is rarely mentioned in our home, but every now and then, I just have to bring it up for a laugh (for me) and a grimace (from mom). But through the whole adventure, they made sure I knew that they were only concerned about being educated for all us kids. And, even though it is a great story, I appreciated their loving care.

  These were the same two moms who spotted a marijuana field hidden behind a house near us. Being concerned again, they called the police to get the “pot” out of our community and the hands of children. When the police met them at the field, my “moms” were politely informed that the only thing growing there was okra. Again, I still appreciate their diligence and care for us.

  Then several years ago, when my parents were out of town, I received word that two very close friends of mine had tragically died. Knowing I was home alone, another one of my “mothers” called me, comforted me, and told me to come spend the night at their house so I wouldn’t be alone. She stayed up with me most of the night talking, drinking coffee,  and the next morning, I knew I would be okay. I’ll always love my “other” mothers.

  But, the real hero in my life … my best friend … my go to confidant … is my mother. She taught me about God and Jesus and lives the life that gives me the model to follow. She prays for me, picks me up when I’m down, supports me when I’m an idiot, and we spend most of the day laughing like hyenas.

  My dear mother is 92 years old and shows no signs of slowing down, which is great because I want to have many more years with her. However, when the time comes that she passes to Heaven, I know I can make it in life because of her example and her continuing love for me.   Mother, I love you with all my heart. Happy Mother’s Day.