Dear Mom

Dear Mom,

I don’t remember, but when I was young I know you cared for me. You fawned over my chubby cheeks, made funny faces to make me laugh, and held my hands as I took my first steps. You loved me.

As I got older, you patiently played pretend outside with me, watched The Lion King every night for two years, and let me get the Queen Frostine card in Candy Land. You sacrificed for me.

Throughout grade school, you faithfully came to my sad sporting events where I sat on the bench. You rejoiced with me when I got an A+ on my spelling test. You complimented my artwork that did not stand out from the rest. You encouraged me.

And then I hit the teenage years. You rightfully chided my tone (“It’s not just what you say, it’s how you say it.”). You put up with slamming doors, loud sighs, exaggerated eye rolls. You endured me.

You cried when I left for college. You sent me cards in the mail, texted me to have a good day, and sent me money for pizza when I was too lazy to cook. You cared for me.

When I left home for good and became a real adult, you gifted me with pots and pans and a knowledge of how to budget (even if I don’t always follow it). I quickly realized how much work it is to clean and cook and chauffer—and I was only doing it for myself, not 3 other people like you. You imparted unintentional wisdom to me.

Most of the things you’ve done for me go unappreciated. I’ve never thanked you for changing my diapers, for buckling me into my car seat, for putting rollers in my stick-straight hair so I looked nice for church. Thank you.

But the biggest thing you’ve done that has not received the thanks it deserves is your prayers for me. The only reason I am the woman I am today is because you have been praying for me my entire life. It should not have taken me twenty-four years to thank you for that—but that is just further proof that I desperately need your prayers.

Mom, thank you. You are underrated, underappreciated, and underestimated. Without even realizing it, you have taught me how to be a woman of God through your continual love towards me. Your patience, sacrifice, and forgiveness are clear mirrors of how my heavenly Father loves me—and that is the greatest gift you could have ever given me.


Your Daughter

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Written by

Hannah Hansen

Hannah is a freelance writer and brand designer. She currently lives in Oceanside, California, where her husband serves as a pastor. When she’s not running along the coast, you’ll likely find her cooking new vegan recipes or browsing her local thrift store.

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