She drew a line and moved three kids across state lines to do what she believed was right. While she carried that responsibility, she didn’t do it in isolation. She leaned heavily on my grandparents — including my grandfather, who would later become the definition of Family Famous™ in our family — and she relied on my older sister in ways that mattered deeply.

My sister was only nine years old when we left Alabama. She was a daddy’s girl and old enough to understand what was happening. In many ways, she was asked to grow up faster than she should have. While my mom worked and went back to school, my sister often stood in her place — making sacrifices in her own young life that deserve to be named and honored.

My mom went back to school and earned her LVN while raising three kids. We didn’t make it easy on her — especially me, moving back to Alabama when I was ten. If she ever complained about how hard things were, she didn’t complain to me. What I saw instead was endurance. She embraced the suck and kept moving forward.

She has been a constant in my life. She was a woman of faith long before my dad’s conversion, and she lived that faith quietly — through commitment, consistency, and responsibility. She showed me what it looks like to press forward and honor your commitments in the face of real adversity.

She is quirky. She has her own impressive brand of humor. She is exceptionally creative — an artist who is far too humble to be honest about her ability to create. She is iconic to my children and greatly adored. She is my mom.

She remains an inspiration to me of what sacrifice for the greater good actually looks like. I owe her a tremendous debt of gratitude for being a living example of endurance, faith, and resolve — not in theory, but in real life.