What Makes a Mother?

Mother’s Day is a time of the year that I can’t help but to think of the mother who birthed me. I try hard the rest of the year not to. I am the mother I am today because of the mother I had. Not because she was a great mother, because I want to be everything she was not.

I don’t often talk about my childhood, mainly because it hurts so very much. For years it was because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings by talking about it. I am not sure why but I didn’t. BUT I do know that if we don’t share our situations, we can’t use them to God’s glory. So today, I want to share a little of my story. It wasn’t until 22 years after my birth I found out I had an older sister (by 6 months). Up until then, I was the oldest. I had found out that my father was with 2 women and married my mom. I will never know the circumstances. No one talks about it. 

I was the cook, the housekeeper, the babysitter, the one who could never be good enough, do enough or be enough.

I was physically, sexually and mentally abused for most all of my childhood and the abuse continued into my adulthood until  I took control and no longer allowed myself to be abused by the people who God trusted to take care of me.

I rarely was allowed out of my house except for school. I was raised in the time that no one did anything to stop the abuse. So many people knew about it, teachers, our resource officer, friends, family. They all let me down. I had 2 aunts try to get my parents to let me live with them.

I was beaten with everything from belts, switches, fists, anything within hands reach. I want to make one thing perfectly clear, I am not against spanking. I am against child abuse. The hell I lived with is what no child should ever endure. I was scared every day of my life at home. I married so that I could escape that hell. I thank God every day that I married the right person. I call my Sweet Man, my Prince Charming. He saved me. He put up with many years of watching me continue being abused. He sat me down about 8 years ago and said “Just because your mom is not hitting you, does not mean she is not still abusing you.” And was he SO right. From that moment on, I turned things around. I started to love myself, something I had never really done because I did not think I was worthy. While the beatings have left some physical scars, the words left deep deep wounds in the core of my being. To heal those words is still a work in progress.

I am not sure why God put me with the earthly parents he did but I live on the promise that just because they let me down, my Heavenly  Father has always been there,  protecting me. By all accounts, I should be dead. Dead by the hands of others or even the pain of my own hands to end the hurt.

That brings me to today. I never want anyone to see me and see my mom, whether it is in a physical form or in habits, speech or actions. If I ever see a glimpse of her in me, I do whatever it takes to never see that again.

 I have not always gotten things right being a mom, mainly because I have had to learn to be the mom I never had. I wanted to be someone that my daughters admire. Someone they want to be but BETTER. I don’t want them to ache for the love of a mom, for the advice from a mom, for the ear of a mom, for the tender touch of a mom. I thank my girls for showing me grace in learning (and still learning) to be a mom.

What makes a Mother? A Mother is found in the Fruits.

A Mother is embedded in the heart.

If you or someone you know is being abused, I URGE you to help. Help someone who cannot help themselves. You will most defiantly save their life.

1-800-4-A-CHILD

Peace, Love and EnJoy