In my messages and books I sometimes share stories from my childhood about my abusive father. There’s a reason. Most people have been through a lot of hurt in life. It helps them to know the guy they’re listening to has been through some too. I don’t enjoy telling those stories, but I think it’s necessary, and worth it.
What’s less often necessary is to talk about my mother. But …
I had (and still have) a great mother. She met and got swept off her feet by an incredibly charismatic man who ended up being a con man, gambling addict and abusive jerk. But that was him, and wasn’t about her. She was a great mother.
When my father was in Vegas gambling, she was pitching me baseballs in our backyard to help me become a better Little League hitter.
When my father spoke harsh words to me, she was there consoling me and letting me know I was loved.
When my father walked out on us for good, she put the pieces back together and rebuilt our family.
When he never sent money to support us, she got three jobs to make sure we would get by.
Today she’s an incredible grandmother to my kids.
I don’t tell those stories as much because they don’t explain why I relate to hurting people like I do. But they do explain part of why I was able to get through all the hurt and not have it totally mess up the rest of my life.
I don’t usually get the chance to talk about my mother, so … thanks mom!