Learning From My Mother

May 6

For most of my life, if you had asked me to write a reflection for Mother’s Day, I would have written about the joy of raising children. As the mother of five, one daughter and four sons, and now a grandmother of five (with one more on the way), my vocation as a mother has shaped who I am. My husband, Tim, and I have always placed our children at the center of our lives, and we have learned as much from them as we have given.

But this year is different. This year, my reflection is not about being a mother. It is about being a daughter.

Over the past year, both of my parents have faced serious health challenges. We moved them from their home in Dayton into assisted living in Toledo, and now I visit them almost every day. In walking alongside my mom, first as she sat vigil during my dad’s hospitalization, and then as she faced her own health struggles, I have come to see motherhood, and love itself, through a new lens.

My mom is patient, gentle, and quietly faithful, qualities that echo the spirit of Francis de Sales. He taught that holiness is not found in extraordinary acts, but in the ordinary moments of daily life lived with great love.

That is exactly how my mom loves.

When my dad was in the ICU after surgery, she sat by his side for hours. She could not fix anything or ease his pain. But she was fully present. Just as she has been for nearly 70 years of marriage. They will celebrate that milestone on June 2.

The months that followed were physically and emotionally exhausting for her, long walks from parking lots to hospital rooms, days filled with uncertainty, nights filled with worry. Yet, she never complained. Each day, she simply showed up again.

Eventually, the strain took its toll, and she, too, was hospitalized, on a different floor, but in the same building. Later, they moved to the same rehabilitation center, just doors apart. Even then, her peace came not from control, but from closeness. Knowing he was near was enough.

Today, they sit side by side in assisted living, just as they should be.

What I have witnessed in my mom is what Francis de Sales called gentle strength. For most of her life, she was independent and capable, caring for those around her. Now she depends on others: nurses, my dad, my sisters and me. She has embraced this transition not with resistance, but with grace.

She accepts what she cannot change and remains grateful. She continues to show up with quiet consistency, getting dressed each day, putting on her earrings and lipstick, choosing dignity and presence.

This, I realize, is what she has been teaching us all along.

She has taught us how to love faithfully and to trust God even when life becomes uncertain. She has shown us that holiness is not about doing more, but about loving well, right where we are.

This Mother’s Day, I am grateful not only for the gift of being a mother but for the lifelong gift of learning from mine. In the quiet, steadfast witness of her life, I am reminded of Francis’ lesson that holiness is woven not into grand moments, but into the tender, everyday choices to love faithfully, especially when it is hard.