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A Mother’s Heart In Human Anatomy, we learned that the average heart is only the size of the organ carrier’s fist. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe that when so much emotion flows from it.
My mother’s heart nearly seems larger than life; because not only does it pump blood, it seems to have faithfulness, strength, and love flowing from it, too.

My entire sixteen years of life I have observed my mother; I’ve watched as she fell down, got up, dusted her shoulders off, and remained faithful. She never fails to bow her head and talk to God in times of trouble. I’ll never forget being an eleven year old girl, content with the world and hearing that my mom may have cancer. I knew very little about the disease except that there wasn’t a cure and in a lot of cases it was fatal. I was terrified of losing my mom; but she on the other hand was not as afraid. She wiped no tears from her eyes; she just whisked her curly strawberry blonde hair out of her face and gave her whole situation to God by praying constantly. That faithfulness paid off, and her test results came back negative.

Athletes may work out and lift weights to become strong, but inner strength is more invincible and valuable to attain. My mom isn’t strong because she wants to be, but rather, because she has to be. She escaped cancer, but still fights uphill battles with Ulcerative Colitis and Rheumatoid Arthritis. I don’t know how she does it honestly; she gets up at the crack of dawn most days to clean rooms at a hotel. That’s a pretty active job for someone who can roll out of bed some days and run a marathon, and on others, not even be able to roll out of bed. It’s hard to witness; your own thirty nine year old mother, barely being able to stand, creaking and moaning like a seventy year old trying to sit in a rocking chair- but still remaining enough to say the blessing before