Dear Mom,

It was about two months ago,

the perfect summer evening.

We were sitting on our front porch, my mom and I, both with a mug of our favorite coffee in hand.

Between laughter and conversation, we’d pause for a bit just to soak in the sound of the crickets gearing up for sunset.

We watched the golden light turn to a faint pink,

sinking lower,

fading to dusk.

These moments, I knew, were the ones I’d miss dearly when I left home for full time missions.

You see, my mother is quite the lady.

Always selfless.

Always pouring out love.

When I share, she listens.

When I hurt, she hurts.

When I laugh, she laughs harder.

Growing up was easy in the Callihan household.

We were always loved,

Always provided for.

We were taught to respect,

to be kind,

to love God.

My mother always made sure our holidays were magical,

and our birthdays were special.

As children, she would share in our excitement for the newest beanie baby releases.

She made from scratch our dream Halloween costumes, even when I wanted to be a giant dog.

She worked on our school projects more than we did, and never left our side when we were ill.

She was that mom that had fresh chocolate chip cookies in the oven and meaty chili on the stove when we walked through the door after school.

She allowed my intense Nsync phase, even sending off my letters for me, the ones inviting them to my birthday party.. every year.

 She treated our homemade gifts as jewels,

And never missed a school activity.

When middle school hit, she was on the edge of my bed multiple nights, and listened as I cried out of insecurity, assuring me of the confidence I would grow in.

She tolerated my half hour a day attempts to play the alto saxophone, for three years, as well as all my emotional pre-teen rollercoaster moments.

As I grew older, she welcomed the boys I brought home with open arms, and held me as I cried when it was over. This was a good balance to my dad, who was more than ready to break out the shot gun at a moments notice.

She was well versed in my crushes, my hurts, my joys, my triumphs, my dreams.

…

I remember telling my parents that I was going to college to be a photographer.

Even with doubts, the support was unfailing.

My mother’s heart was full of grace as I entered into my moody artist phase, hands always in developer, eyes always behind a camera.

Then one day, I announced casually that I felt God directing me to do YWAM, in Germany.

Not one moment passed that she wasn’t supportive or helping me prepare.

And then I was off, not knowing what the future would hold.

Even from thousands of miles away, I felt her unfailing love, whether it be in package, letter or email form.

When I failed at communication, she didn’t, fully letting me do my thing, but making sure I was aware of how much love and prayer was coming from home.

February hit, and my life changed, completely.

Just a few months earlier I was telling her how we would have a wedding on our hands to plan in a years time, and now I was on one end of skype, sitting in Moldova, gasping for air, explaining that it was all over.

As I dove into months of hurt and pain, she dove in with me.

Not understanding my pain, but allowing it to take it’s various forms.

She always had the words, whether I wanted to hear them or not, she had them.

But then she shared the one’s that God used to help wake me up.

“Kelsey, you have not been rejected, you have been released.”

It wasn’t a surprise that I decided to enter full time missions, but it wasn’t easy for her either.

Her girls were grown up, and her middle baby, was moving to Germany.

But through her worry, I saw her beaming, proud.

I am not the same as I was a year ago,

I am a twenty two going on twenty three year old woman.

I sing a new song now.

A song of confidence,

and fulfillment in my Father’s love.

I say this all,

Because today is my mother’s birthday.

And I owe so much of where I am now to this incredible woman.

She is in fact a gift and a blessing from God.

I could never give her a greater gift than she and my dad have given me.

A life full of love.

Love that has allowed me to stumble.

Love that has allowed me to be myself.

Love that has allowed me to follow God wherever I hear His calling.

Momma,

I can’t find the words to tell you how much I appreciate you, so I hope this will do until I can. When I come home next summer, we’ll have coffee on the front porch. I’ll put too much creamer in; you’ll probably snort when you laugh.

And it will be just the way I remember.

I love you.

Happy Birthday.