My Mother, My Hero, My Angel

My mother is my hero.

She is the bravest, strongest, most shining soldier in God’s Army that I know, shining unconditional love, and she doesn’t even go to church anymore. She made me what I am today.

There is a psychic whose work she loves. This is one of our rare points of contention. This person does not set well with me-enough said.

She got tickets to see her and and won the “lottery” of being one of those called up on stage to speak to her!

My mother bounded up, exploding with happees, so overwhelmed to get to meet this person whom she felt was a friend. “I KNEW it! I KNEW it!” she cried with joy.

“You’re psychic,” durred the psychic.

This person, who previously had been leaning forward to communicate with the people called up, suddenly pulled back, wary, watching my mother.

My mother was dumbfounded. I was NOT. Her positive energy can be intimidating, but she did not expect it to happen here.

This incident inspired me to email our friends about this unexpected visit, but being the heels-kicking-up-Donkee I am, I had to further my excitement by saying what it made me think of.

I was for some reason reminded of Lord of the Rings, when the women and children hid in the tower, and cowered in fear.

I suddenly knew my mother would NOT have been cowering! She would have been leading the group, like Scarlett O’Hara, all eyes looking to her for guidance. (She’s fairly bossy, LOL!)

She would be leading them in songs, and games, and play! The children would not know about the outside threat, and she would bravely entertain them.

If evil came to the door, she would meet it there, just like Scarlett, and fight to the last bloody bone. She does not fear evil.

The bloody bone…

When my mother was five, she was shot in the leg by accident. Her father rushed her to the hospital. Her blood type was rare, and they had to go out on the street and appeal to strangers for help. Her leg was practically hanging by a sinew , and they wanted to remove it. She fought them and she kept it.

The gouge is deep to the ligaments, and a wound would be a frightening challenge-she protected it well over the years, and became a slow, deliberate mover because of it.

But one day, she was careless, and brushed it against a corner of a cardboard box. It tore the teensy bit of skin and made a hole.

One that would simply NOT heal.

My mother has many scars: one from falling in scalding water, one from cancer on her face, on her breast-she fought and beat cancer-her leg, her upper thighs, filled with buckshot (she sets off the airport alarms) . She watched TWO of her childhood homes burn to the ground. Her female organs were also not spared insult-this beautiful woman who should have had many children (she is the oldest of ten!) instead suffered miscarriages. Instead she became a day care mother for several years, a vessel from which to pour her love: the children cried when they had to go home- the parents stayed for cookies and became friends.

This wound did not heal for seven years. Then, one day, she got a message, “Brenda, your leg will heal.”

She told dad a couple of days later, and they talked about how there was no blood getting to that area.

Then he said, “Why don’t you PUT a little blood in it?” and she did. The hole healed almost immediately.

Another of life’s little miracles.

They happen to us all the time. She taught me how to listen to the messages, and how to love. I did not inherit her bravery, but I work at it. I remember a dream she told me of, that my cousins Greggy and Karlton were playing in her sewing room and came running to her, terrified. She went to the room. There was an evil spirit in it, terrorizing them. She became furious and told it <deleted>. It got the Hell out of there. I see her having this same courage in real life.

I am now fighting personal battles that require bravery that comes nothing close to hers. I don’t have it. So I use another tactic. I got it from “Defending Your Life” with Albert Brooks. One scene got me rather teary…on a game show in Judgment City, a man was asked if he was going to face his fear, and he said yes! The game show host got excited and said, “He’s facing his fear! He’s facing his fear!” I never forgot it.

Then, not long ago, something new came to me, “The angels cheer when you face your fear!”

My face warms with a thrill, just writing it! 🙂

Now, when I face a conflict, and I am trying hard, I say it to myself, sometimes like a mantra, and imagine them supporting me when I pass up my temptations, or try to be brave.

She has taught me so much.



  1. What a wondrous thing.. the tie between mother and child. Especially when the child is lucky enough to realize how much it means while there is time to express it to the mother, or parent, who is lucky enough to hear it… Too many people have lost that chance, and live the rest of their time regretting words they either can’t take back, or never said.

  2. Oh, Carol…don’t I know it. Just a look back at the post shows the fragility of life….you can
    lose someone at any moment. And yet, oddly, I was never afraid for her. When she had
    breast cancer, I felt sad for her because I knew she was suffering, but I never thought she would die….I had this childlike faith even then that she would just beat it. I assumed it.

    My mother has many challenges. She has been arthritic for many years, too, and diabetes
    to deal with now, too. I just see her as the Energizer Bunny!!! Some day she will go, though, and I will envy that place of her destination…the cheer will be deafening. I swear I
    will envy them and have a chill of excitement of what new accomplishments she will be capable of!!!!

    Thanks for commenting, my friend.

  3. As I was reading this, I swear, it sounded like my mother. She too had a damaged leg and medical problems. She too had a deep faith, that gave her the courage to live a positive life. I try to live up to the example, and fail, but keep trying anyway. She taught me that courage was getting up one more time than you fell down. and if you need help, God will be right there for you. My mother died last year and although I know she has gone home ahead of me, I still mourn my loss. Give your mother a hug for me, please. It will be just like giving one to my mother.
    God bless.

  4. Oh, jehkeykat, bless your heart… how wonderful of you to share that. What a lovely testimony to a kindred soul! I got your post while I was working today, and read it on my cell phone (I am fortunate to be able to get emails and web access on it.) My imagination immediately conjured up an image of her on the other side, doing a kind of magical “weaving”…it was like a spiritual thing…made me think of mom telling me of Betty Eady (sp?) describing seeing the living waters …and I was suddenly imagining a “living weave”…isn’t that an incredible thought? Makes me think of the scientists’ new claim about the “string theory.” I just know the things that are happening on the other side are breath-takingly fabulous. When people like you share these little stories it not only touches me but countless unknown others who read and are affected and never post.

    *watches the pond ripple from the pebble*

    Mom said thanks for the hug. 🙂

    That is a very beautiful cat. Love the eyes…

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