A Tribute to My Mum at 60
If anyone has shown me how to love lavishly, give unreservedly, and live with unwavering kindness, it is my mother. Today, as we celebrate her 60th birthday, I reflect on the quiet strength and sacred depth of a woman who taught us that true love remains steadfast—even when it seems unreasonable.
She instilled boldness in me. She modeled independence. She revealed love in its rawest form; unconditional, sacrificial, unconcerned with tallies or quid-pro-quo. It is a love that prizes peace over pride, unity over ego, and service over convenience.
Growing up, I watched Mum extend grace again and again. She gave the benefit of the doubt, searched for the story beneath people’s imbalance, and always leaned toward compassion. I often wondered: Should anyone really love without limits?
Then I saw her do it again and again.
In one of our family’s darkest seasons, when my father walked away more than once, my mother never loosened her grip on love. She refused to slander him, though she had every right. She would not let bitterness poison our hearts. Instead, she stood as a pillar of grace. I remember asking, “Mum, why give him all this love? You should pour some of it into us, your children.”
Her reply still echoes in my heart: “I already have you. The one I don’t have, I believe I can win with love.”
In that moment I glimpsed something divine: the God who leaves the ninety-nine to rescue the one. My mum embodied that pursuit loving fiercely, even when it hurt. What I once deemed a flaw, I now recognize as holy.
Recently, while I tried to caution Dad against a brewing dispute, she said, “Your dad isn’t troublesome; he just detests injustice. Try to understand him.” Living with him brings her joy, and I pray God crowns them both with health, prosperity, and purpose fulfilled.
Years later I realized she wasn’t choosing my father over us; she was choosing love over resentment. And that love, steadfast and patient, finally bore fruit. Today we are a united family, bound by a tenderness she forged between each child; both biological or otherwise without prejudice or scarring.
I once mistook her softness for weakness. I thought allowing offenses to go unanswered was naïve. I even penned an essay insisting love must have boundaries. Time proved me wrong. Her seeming “weakness” was refined strength, a strength that values peace over vindication.
And it didn’t end there.
Need anything – ???? and Mum is first in line: our chef, laundress, human alarm clock, private nurse, and forever cheerleader. If you are heading out at 5 a.m., your breakfast will be plated by 4:30. She doesn’t rest when her children are in need.
She takes care of her grandchildren as if she’s their employed nurse, to the point where the children picks to stay with her over their parent.
Her love is not rhetoric but action. She serves, not from obligation, but delight. Her humility humbles me; her selflessness challenges me. Though I wonder whether I’ll ever match that generosity as a parent, she has already planted the seed.
She harbors no grudges. Relatives, neighbors, offenses that would ignite others, she meets it with gentle counsel: “Leave them. Let them go. They don’t know better.”
What the world might label weakness, I now call sacred strength.
Mummy, thank you for revealing this side of God. Thank you for granting us freedom to seek Him in our own ways—never judging, never restraining, always trusting. You have lived the gospel louder than many preach it.
As you mark sixty remarkable years, we cloak our celebration in God’s glory. This is your dawn of fresh favor, abundant grace, and ever-growing joy. You will live long; you will flourish in sound health, clear mind, and overflowing peace. Heaven smiles on you, and so do we.
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