Sometimes we have to grow up to truly grasp all the little ways our parents love us even without our knowledge. For the first 21 years of my life there was always family close by, sometimes a short 20 minutes down the road but most often just in the next room. I grew up accustomed to the familial sounds of chatter in the hall and feet on the stairs. Even now, my house doesn’t quite feel like home when my husband has to spend a weekend away for work and everything falls silent. Home has always been where my people are.

When I moved to Indiana for a job in the steel industry I also embarked on the two loneliest years of my life. Of course, I invested all of my free time and energy in keeping busy and making friends. I took up new hobbies and filled my days with every social engagement I could find, despite being incredibly shy. However, in the evening I would always return to a dark, empty apartment which was an especially sobering situation amid COVID lockdowns. During this season of loneliness I called my mom nearly every day, sometimes three times in one day. She was a constant lifeline and content to receive a running play-by-play of my new life in the Midwest. My mom wore many hats during that time; life coach, public relations advisor, romance councilor, medical consultant and chief BFF to name a few. 

Now, having found my husband and both of us with slightly busier church schedules, we talk a bit less. Our catch up phone calls now come a few times a week and I’m ashamed to say I’ve caught myself a bit peeved on occasion when she wasn’t able to come to the phone. In addition to becoming a hugely active and influential member of her parish community, my mom is also the current help hotline for my sister who is in the throes of medical school while navigating the joys and trials of motherhood for the very first time. 

It occurred to me recently that in my own time of need my mom was just as available and ready to listen. She hardly ever missed a call during those two years when I was entirely on my own in an unfamiliar landscape. At the time, I was simply grateful for the comfort our daily check-ins afforded us both. I was blessed with a familiar voice to vent any and all frustrations to and my mom received regular reassurance that her youngest daughter was still safe and well. Now, years later, I consider the sacrifice these chats required on her part, to always be ready and willing to listen. I pray someday that my own kids can know they are loved that much. Thanks mom.