As a child, I marveled at how my mother knew how to take care of me when I was sick, how she always had a snack waiting for me after a rough day at school, and how she had this sixth sense of reading my mind. When I was scared or unsure of myself, my mother would put on her warm smile and lovingly open her arms to me. I would snuggle in close, listen to her heartbeat; instantly, I knew that I was safe. As long as she was nearby, I knew that everything would seem right with the world. A gentle kiss on the nose, an encouraging smile, the scent of her pajamas, and the gentle way she would pull the hair back off of my face... are all lovingly tucked into my childhood memories. My mom always seemed to know whether I had really practiced the piano, or if I was really sick (or just trying to avoid an English paper). And whenever I felt the world was against me, my mother was there to speak words of encouragement.
Unfortunately for my mother, not much has changed. She is still always there to listen to the stories of the triumphs and successes and to hear of the struggles and feelings of inadequacy. And just like she did when I was younger, she finds a way to celebrate the happy occasions (with a card, an e-mail, a phone call, a visit, etc.) and to pick me up, dust me off, and send me back into the world when everything seems dark and impossible. It seems that no matter how old I get (or how wise I may appear), I still find it essential to have the approving nod from my mother. I hope that I will always be able to live my life in accordance with the gospel principles that she has taught and shared (both in public and in private), so that I know she will be as proud to call me "her daughter" and I am to claim her as "my mother".
Mom, I love you. Happy Mother's Day! -Melena
