I can always run home

I adore my mom.

I really, really do.

I think that I have always adored her. I adored her in the way that little gals adore a mom, while taking her for granted. I wonder why we as children do that? Why?.....When my mom is doing all that she knows to do, to be the best mom she can be, do I pull her close then push her away? Then, when I need her, I'll pull her close in order to be supported by the love of a mother that nothing else can compare to and then, push against that love when I feel strong enough to be independent once again. It's like a match of tug-o-war that has gone on for 3 decades now...and she has never let go of her end of the rope. As a mom she has taken the steps forward when I needed her to and stepped back when I was through with her for the time being. How selfish we can be in our immaturity...and even well beyond the immature age. I no longer want to take her for granted.
When I think of my mom, when I think of the way her love has quite literally saved my life in many various ways, I am thankful!
Thankful to the point of my heart filling up till it hurts with thanks.
I am thankful, because I know, without my mom having to say anything.....that I can always run home.
I am thankful that even now, at the age of 32, I can run to my mommy. Me, having been married 2 months shy of 13 years now and birthing not 2 but 3 beautiful children; I can still for a brief moment lay down all of my hurt, stress, responsibilities and any semblance of adlthood and lay my head on my mom's lap....without her passing judgment and me not feeling a hint of disappointment from her....

I can fall apart.

I can crumble into a pile of tears and snot....shed my biggirl skin and let the littlegirl emerge for just a brief moment in time. The littlegirl who isn't quite sure she can do this thing called "grow-up". The littlegirl who's heart has been shredded once again. (Shredded mostly by the lies that she maybe "believed" instead of "sent packing"!) But the reason doesn't matter. A mother's love has a way of looking past the reason and just comforting the broken heart.
So I lay my head on my mom's lap...and my mom will rub my hair...my mom will drop everything....my mom will place the unconditional love of a mom up under me and wrap it around me....and you know what? It does help. And it does heal.
I know this because I recently "ran home". My heart was quite thoroughly broken. My strength was all gone. I couldn't keep the tears from coming and I wondered if I could do this thing called "being a woman" much longer. I was hurt. I was confused. I was horribly angry.
But my mama didn't care.
The reason for that is because I believe that the love of my mother is quite similar to the love of God. No my mom isn't like God and I know that she is not perfect, nor would I want her to be. But, the point I am trying to make is that God sees our hearts. He sees everything that is in there: The good, the bad, the unlikable and downright unlovable, and like a mother....
He loves us....
through the snot, tears, skinned-knees, anger and pain. God loves us.
Period.
Just like my mom.