My mom is the toughest woman I know. You'd never know it to look at her because she is so approachable and kind, but underneath she wears the garb of a superhero. Think Superman, Spider-man, Batman, and Elasti-Girl all rolled into one. Like Elasti-Girl, she sacrifices everything for her family.
My mom has endured more than I could put into words, but she faces it all with unbelievable courage and tenacity. When asked (as she often is), "How do you do it?" she humbly and simply says, "What is the alternative? You would do the same." Every day she wakes early, puts on her superhero costume, and is back to the business of rescuing. One time I tried to take over for her for a few days, and though I consider myself to be pretty tough, and if not tough, then at least resilient, the emotional burden about knocked me off my feet. Two things that allow her to do what she does and be who she is. The first is the gospel of Jesus Christ. The second is her love of her family. She never lets go of these things, and they give her the strength, hope, and will to continue to "
fight the good fight."
Mom always taught us to be tough. Her rule for being sick was, "If you don't have a fever and you're not throwing up, you go to school." I learned from both my parents that a little discomfort should not slow a person down; ignore being sick as much as possible and go on with life. However, a couple of weeks ago when I went home for Sunday dinner, as is my custom, I was feeling pretty under the weather, and my mom completely catered to me. I was coughing quite a bit, but I really didn't let on how sick I was. Nevertheless, Mom kept asking me what I needed, "Can I get you some tea? Did you take any medicine? Do you have medicine? Is there anything you want? Are you sure you don't want some tea? I can make you some honey lemon tea." I was floored, not because my mom isn't caring--she's one of the nicest people I know--but I don't remember ever being this fawned over just for being sick.
My mom is always concerned about my basic needs. When I'm getting ready to leave on Sundays, she often starts pulling out groceries or homemade bread for me. (Her homemade bread is absolutely the best bread you'll ever taste.) "Do you have enough corn?" she asks. "I found some yogurt on sale, and picked up some extra." "There's some apple cider from the local apple stand for you." And on.
I love that in my parents' relationship, they take care of each other. It's not a one-way deal. Last Sunday we celebrated my brother's 18th birthday, and in my family, celebration means food. We had seared tuna, coconut shrimp with three kinds of dipping sauces, horseradish mashed potatoes, homemade rolls, asparagus, jello, and strawberry satin pie. I'm telling you my parents know how to cook. We usually all do the dishes together, but my dad wasn't feeling well, so my mom flat-out banned him from the kitchen. He still came in to load some glasses in the dishwasher, but my mom took one look at him and banned him again. "You go rest. I've got the girls to help me with that."
Mom and I have become such good friends as I've grown older. We frequently chat about politics, global affairs, literature, and the arts. I love talking to my mom. She's intelligent and capable, and she taught me to have passion for life (or at least to channel my passions). She lets me know how much she appreciates any time I visit or call home. I spend a lot of time following my mom around the house and chatting with her when I visit. She takes me around and shows me paint colors she's considering, tells me about interesting things she's learned lately, and asks my opinion on a variety of topics.
We share a love of China. She served a
mission in Hong Kong and I served in Taiwan. She speaks Cantonese, and I speak Mandarin. She has a great talent for learning languages, and still remembers a little from the couple of Mandarin classes she audited when she returned from Hong Kong 30 years ago. When I was a missionary, I emailed home every week, and I occasionally inserted a little romanized Mandarin for her to decipher--a little puzzle to emphasize our connection. I always waited eagerly for her emails the following week. When I came back from my mission, she teased me about my Chinese-sounding English, especially words like "jam" and "sure." I talked to her about Chinese concepts and appreciated the enthusiasm she showed.
Mom and I have enjoyed sharing a calling in our respective church units. We're both serving as
Relief Society instructors and chat about what we're learning as we study for our lessons and swap lesson ideas. As we do the dishes on Sundays, we often talk about our gospel learning. I always feel so uplifted by our conversations and so strengthened by her gentle wisdom.
Mom's confidence in me makes me feel capable. She encourages my dreams and my sense of adventure. I've recently started thinking seriously about moving to Boston after I graduate in December. I mentioned this to her one Sunday, and she was fully supportive. Then she said, "I'm not going to think about being sad until it gets here. I'm not going to borrow worry." She tells me she wouldn't want me to live at home the rest of my life, even though she misses me at home. She says she wants me to live my own life and follow my dreams. And she means it--she's always pulling for my dreams. The whole family gathered to play games a little later, and my mom said to my dad, "Amanda is thinking about moving to Boston." He smiled, and said, "It's a dream."* My dad communicates a lot in few words and was in no way trying to denounce the idea, but my mom, my sweet, wonderful mom, said, "Yes, but with Amanda, dreams can come true."
I love my mom. She's my friend, my advocate, my mentor, and captain of my fan club. Some of the conversations we've had will live forever in me as treasured memories. She takes care of me but still lets me grow my own way. She knows how to give priority to the things that matter most. She seeks without ceasing to improve her spirit and her mind. She works harder than anyone. She is intelligent, brave, kind, and wise. She is my superhero.
*The next week we went to visit my grandparents and watch
General Conference. My family arrived before I did, because I had a mission reunion to go to first. I arrived to find that my dad, backed by my mom, had already told my grandparents all about my plans to move to Boston. He had talked about it as he might if I really had a job and an apartment there and it wasn't just "a dream"after all. I was extremely touched.
