I'm going to start a series of posts about my family. There are several reasons for this, the foremost of which is because it relates to my April 9th post. I feel the need to explain why my family means so much to me, why I can't move away, and why I am so incredibly fortunate to have them in my life. I'm not exactly sure how to do this, and I'm sure I will be jumping around, but I will start at the beginning, with my mom.

I am a first-born. I was four when my sister was born, and thus I was an only child for a long time. My mom was, and pretty much still is, a full-time mom. She went to school to become a chiropractor's assistant, and was almost ready to move away - to Kansas City, I think - when my dad asked her to marry him and she put her plans on the shelf. I was born four years later. We were pretty much inseparable during those first four years of my life, she tells me. I doubt a farmer's wife could ever afford to stay home with her kids today, but there we were. Mom was my everything. I wanted to be her when I grew up. I watched her do everything: cook, bake cakes, clean, shop, talk on the phone, fold laundry, drive, garden. Wherever she was, I wanted to be. I was her shadow. She read to me, she sang to me, she played with me, she taught me everything I knew. She was my best friend. Even after I started going to school and playing with friends my own age, she was still more important to me as a friend than even Cassie. I never went through teenage rebellion with my parents. When I left home, I talked with her on the phone at least three times a week. Whenever I was lonely or excited or homesick or proud or just needed to hear the sound of her voice, I'd call. It only slowed down when Leah and I became such close friends, and now that I can't call her anymore, I find myself calling Mom a lot more often again.

I no longer want to be Mom, as my life has seemingly gone off in another direction, most notably in that I have not yet started a family of my own. She is still my role-model, as all the traits of love and dedication and faith that she instilled in me are still important to me as well. I admire her as I admire no other woman. I admire her tireless dedication to her family. I admire her for caring about the kids she works with in Young Life, Campaigners, and Sunday School. I admire how she stood up for Nile and took him in like he was her own. I admire her love for my father. I admire her strength and her sense of humor and her creativity and her beauty. She makes me feel loved like no one else can.

If I ever become a mother, I have the best experience to draw on, and I will have a difficult time living up to her example.