What’s in a name?

“I read in a book once that a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but I've never been able to believe it. I don't believe a rose WOULD be as nice if it was called a thistle or a skunk cabbage”. 

  • L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables. 


Rose

A symbol of love. 

Indeed, there’s something in a name. Because that is what she is. Not just a symbol but an embodiment of love. My mother is love. 

All kinds of love. Sometimes tough, sometimes soft. Sometimes with tears in her eyes, other times with laughter on her lips. Nonetheless, at all times, it is sacrificial. 

Her charity begins at home but it most certainly doesn’t end there. It extends across every person and place. My mother steps into a room and lights it up like the sun rays at the break of dawn. No one comes in contact with her and leaves without a smile. Her heart is so big, I wonder sometimes how her petite body bears the weight.


Ijeoma - beautiful journey 


From the stories she tells to my first-hand encounter with her life, I cannot deny the evidence of the beauty that is my mother’s life journey. It’s inspiring, it’s unique, it is my blueprint. Even more so, it’s amazing because she is nowhere near the end of that journey. I can only imagine the great lengths that I’m sure she’ll attain as she paddles through this journey. She tells me - tells us - that we’d be greater than she is. I take that prayer seriously because it’d be a great deal to cover the miles that my mother has covered - and surpass them. 


I tell people my mother is my hero. And she is. I wish there was a greater word to describe her impact on my life. She’s the reason I am who I am. She’s always present, even in her absence. People say I’m a mummy’s girl and I accept the title fully. I call on my mum every step of the way and she’s always there to guide me. My sister and I joke sometimes about the possibilities of getting my mother to write a guidebook on motherhood. She’s that awesome. 

I cannot wait to carry out all the wonderful plans I have for my mother. For sure, I cannot repay her. But it’s a promise that I have made to make sure she reaps the fruits of her labour. And by the infinite grace of God, she definitely will. 


Happy birthday, Mother Dearest. 

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