I was unprepared and it was unexpected.
From an unlikely source, came that word; he called me mom. He didn’t say it to my face, but in an emotional time of reflection over Christmas celebrations. Sitting in our living room, hunched over in a chair, hiding his teared stained face from his peers, he confessed his struggles over losing his real mum. And then he surprised us all, explaining how being able to call me “mamake” brought him comfort and made him feel like he still had a mom; that I was his mom now.
The tough exterior broken to reveal a soft and gentle soul that wants what most of us want- a family to belong to.
I sat behind the wall of others gathered in my living room on Christmas Eve and was in awe of what I heard. Stories of random moments over the last year that touched each person in a way I could not imagine. I’m always surprised how the little things in the end are what become the treasured memories to an individual in this journey of life.
A smile. A soft touch. A warm embrace.
Sitting in silence with someone as they mourn the loss of a loved one, it often times speaks volumes without a single sound being uttered.
Most of the time I have no idea what I’m doing, I’ll be honest. But I’m just trying to be intentional about my sincerity to love those God has placed in my care or in relationship with.
He called me mom. Those three little letters that form the word for the most beautiful job God has ever given me. That little treasure I will hold with me always.