There’s something about this picture of Mom — standing there with a piece of chocolate cake in her hands — that stops me in my tracks.
It’s not just the cake (though trust me, hers was the kind people remembered).
It’s what it represents — and what we often talked about during those long chemotherapy appointments.
Because making a good chocolate cake — just like making a good life — is all about what you put into it.
Flour — the foundation.
The quiet, everyday moments that build something steady beneath your feet.
Her foundation was strong — built on faith and prayer. Everything else in her life was layered on top of that steady ground.
Mom knew it wasn’t the big events that made a home, but the small, faithful ones: meals cooked, prayers whispered, arms wide open.
Sugar — the sweetness.
Even on the hardest days, she taught us to find the good.
To laugh easily.
To celebrate the little things.
To believe that joy would always find its way back to the table, no matter what.
Eggs — the strength that binds it all together.
When life got messy, Mom was the glue — and her faith was her glue.
She held us close when the world felt shaky.
She reminded us that love wasn’t just a feeling; it was a choice you made over and over again.
Butter — the richness.
She made life full.
Not with things, but with moments — homemade cakes, dinners at 5:00 sharp every day, and the way she looked you straight in the eye when you talked, like every word you said mattered.
And oh, she would have you tell your story twice — just to catch every detail.
Cocoa — the bittersweet.
Because life has its hard flavors too.
Mom never hid that from us.
She walked through cancer, loss, heartbreak, and disappointment — and she did it with hope.
She was a champion during her battle with cancer.
It was during those bittersweet days that I learned the most from her — how to face the hard with courage, how to hold onto hope when it would be easier to let go.
And because of her journey, a nonprofit was born — a legacy of love that still touches lives today.
And finally…
Time in the oven — the waiting.
Because good things take time.
Mom lived that truth.
Patience. Prayer. Perseverance.
Knowing that even when you can’t see it yet, something good is quietly rising.
As I think back on Mom’s life and all the lessons tucked into that slice of chocolate cake, I’m filled with gratitude. But I also know Mother’s Day holds different emotions for everyone. Some are celebrating, some are grieving, and some are simply trying to make peace with a complicated story.
So wherever this day finds you—whether you’re holding your mom’s hand, missing her deeply, or still healing from what never was—I want to say:
Happy Mother’s Day.
To the mothers, the mother figures, the spiritual moms, the stepmoms, the grieving moms, the hopeful moms, and the ones who carry stories the world may never fully know—this day is for you.
You are seen. You are loved. You matter.
0 Comments