My mother is different from others. My mother rose to her motherly responsibilities. In this age of advanced convenience, she chose a course few mothers accept as their right, their honor, and their privilege. She chose to raise us, her children. She chose to teach us. When so many other mothers were daily abandoning their children and their children’s educations to strangers, our mother was rising every day to personally raise us. When other mothers were sitting in parent-teacher conferences to make sure their children weren’t falling behind, our mother was instructing us and encouraging us so we would push ahead.
My siblings and I were fortunate to be homeschooled. In public schools, God is omitted. For us, God was our mentor. We studied mathematics. We studied language. We studied history. But more importantly, we studied scriptures, which allowed us to see the world in greater depths and to view the skies to greater heights. Instead of just giving us knowledge, our mother showed us the source of knowledge.
She sacrificed her own self-advancement and other interests of renown and recognition to raise us. She often put aside her own comfort and gave us her time. She chose to raise us. She raised us to be self-reliant, self-motivated, and selfless. She raised us to higher plains, to become more than we otherwise would have become.
Many parents claim they would die for their children. Our mother did more than that. She lived for us. When the names of mothers are proclaimed by angelic heralds at the end of time, her name will be one that will continue to echo through the corridors of heaven for the rest of eternity.