Biology Makes a Relative, Love Makes a Mother

Growing up, soooo many times I heard how much I resemble my mother when she was a young girl. Back then, I didn't see it so much. But more and more, the intonation of her voice, the instructive use of her hands when making a point, even her wisecracking idioms that she flung about, display the intensity of biological influence.

But motherhood is so often found in the quiet acts of care: the listening ear, the steady hand, the comforting embrace, the unwavering presence. Love, sacrifice, compassion, and guidance create mothers in ways biology alone never could.

What I learned early on, long before I had language for it, was that biology never held exclusive rights to love or belonging. In my world, caring and compassion always outranked bloodlines.

As a young girl, I can vividly recall countless times my grandmothers stood watch on front porches in anticipation, listening for the crackling sounds of tire treads roll over the gravel paths that led to their front doors. No matter the hour, they greeted wayward souls. With aprons tied securely around ample waists, hands on hips, outstretched loving arms, they beckoned, "Y'all, come on in. Supper's ready!"

Third and fourth cousins were folded into our lives as naturally as siblings, never introduced with qualifiers or distance, only with embrace. The words "stepchild" or "half sibling" were not part of my vernacular.  

The little neighbor who mysteriously appeared on our front porch every Sunday just as dinner was being served was never treated as an intrusion. Without hesitation, my mother would simply reach for another plate, smooth another napkin, and widen the circle around the table of 8, as though she had expected him all along. There was always room!

-Room for the classmate who had nowhere to go on holidays.

-Room for the sleepover pallet spread quietly across the living room floor.

-Room for the sorority sister whose family never came to her crossing over ceremony, only to discover she would not sit alone because MY mother had already claimed her as one of ours.

My Aunt Lea made a space for me in what was already a full house, my freshman year at college. She rose early every morning to put the coffee on, championing me across the finish line, getting that term paper done and encouraging me during those anxious hours of final exam week. 

And then there were the marvelous godmothers (Aunt Buffy) —the women who believed stewardship was both sacred and practical. They reminded us, and later our daughters, to keep the Holy Spirit present between ourselves and our dates (for the Catholics in the room) while also possessing the courage to say aloud what everyone else politely avoided: “Oh honey… you’re not wearing that.” They mothered with scripture in one hand and honesty in the other.

The lesson came full circle years later when my live-in nanny, in very short order, became something far greater than an employee. She became “Ms. Olga” — not only grandmother to my daughter, but eventually to nearly every child in the neighborhood. Children wandered toward her instinctively, drawn by the same warmth that had shaped my own home for generations. She belonged to all of us, and we belonged to her.

That was the inheritance passed down to me: the understanding that family is often less about who shares your blood and more about who consistently shows up with love, a chair at the table, a place to sleep, a word of correction, a hand to hold, and the unwavering insistence that no one should ever feel alone.

Today, I celebrate not only MY mother but the women who mother not by birth, but by heart.

Today, I honor every woman who has helped me feel safe, seen, supported, and loved. 

So to the moms, grandmothers, aunties, godmothers, teachers, mentors, foster mothers, "step"mothers, caregivers, neighbors, and the countless women who have nurtured, protected, guided, encouraged, and loved others through life’s many seasons: your impact is immeasurable, and your care leaves lasting footprints on the hearts you touch.

And to the mothers who bear the enormity of the loss of a child.....Peace be with you. 

A Blessed Mother’s Day to all.