Honoring Mothers: The Heart of Our Stories

I’ll admit something that might sound strange: Mother’s Day was never really a big event in my household. In fact, when my mom passed on May 5th, just days before Mother’s Day, I remember someone consoling me that her passing “must be extra hard, happening so close to Mother’s Day.”

The truth is, while we observed the day with cards and perhaps breakfast or flowers, neither my mom nor I placed much significance on it. Why? Because I tried to celebrate her every day of the year — in little ways and in big ones. And she recognized this.

I think she preferred the 364 days of genuine, spontaneous appreciation to the one day of commercial obligation. (That’s not to say I didn’t push her buttons sometimes. I wasn’t a “perfect” daughter. But she knew that I did my best to honor her throughout the year, even when we had, um, “disagreements.” 😉)

My childhood wasn’t easy. I witnessed my father physically abusing my mom, and after we moved in with my grandparents, my grandmother and her mother weren’t particularly kind to me.

Through it all, my mother was my anchor. She was the one person I knew without a doubt who loved me unconditionally. As I grew, she became my best friend, confidante, cheerleader, conscience, and faith role model. I admired her love of Jesus so much that it shaped my own spiritual journey.

When she passed away unexpectedly, I felt lost at sea. My anchor was suddenly gone. But in my writing, I found a way to honor her memory and explore the profound impact of maternal love.

This is why mothers feature so prominently in my stories across all pen names. They’re my way of celebrating her influence while exploring the complex beauty of the maternal relationship.

In Unconditional Love, my protagonist Querida becomes a mother after surviving sexual assault. Her decision to rear Patrice, and the fierce love she develops despite her trauma, reflects the transformative power of motherhood.

My children’s book, The Adventure in the Magical World, features four distinct mother figures:

This last example shows that I don’t shy away from portraying the full spectrum of motherhood — from the nearly saintly to the deeply flawed. After all, real maternal relationships are complicated, and fiction should reflect that complexity.

Not all maternal figures are women. In Unconditional Love, Xavier rears his daughter Emily alone after her mother abandons them. He embodies both parental roles without compromising his masculinity.

This is important to note — my heroes are all strong, masculine men. Their ability to nurture their children doesn’t diminish their strength; it enhances it. When it comes to their kids, these men know how to show their softer sides without fearing damage to their masculinity — because that’s what real men do.

Blood doesn’t define motherhood. Adoptive mothers may not have given birth, but they love just as fiercely as any biological mother.

While negative stories about foster care often dominate headlines, many foster mothers provide crucial love and stability to children in need.

These women choose motherhood, often navigating challenging systems and healing wounded hearts along the way. Their intentional love deserves special recognition. And I try to give them that in several of my future novels that showcase adoptive and foster moms.

I don’t have children myself. Yes, I’ve always wanted them, but God hasn’t blessed me with that gift yet. However, I’ve experienced the bias that childless women face — similar to Hannah in the Bible — as if we’re somehow to be pitied or shamed.

One of my dearest friends experienced several heartbreaking miscarriages, yet she’s one of the most maternal women I know. We both have nurturing spirits that children naturally gravitate toward. (And I’ve noticed that single men with children have always been drawn to me! 🤭)

The suggestion that women without children are somehow less maternal or less worthy is both infuriating and wrong. I cringe when I hear comments like, “Now that I’m a mom, I understand how important a healthy diet is for children” — as if childless women lack this basic knowledge! Motherhood doesn’t confer superpowers or special wisdom; maternal instincts exist in many hearts.

The “aunties,” teachers, mentors, and friends who nurture children deserve recognition, too. Their influence can be just as profound and lasting.

What makes maternal love so powerful — in both life and fiction — is its transformative nature. It heals wounds, provides safety, encourages growth, and offers unconditional acceptance.

This nurturing force transcends traditional definitions. It isn’t confined to biological relationships or conventional family structures. It’s about the choice to care for another soul’s wellbeing above your own.

That’s why these relationships resonate so deeply with readers. We all need nurturing, regardless of our age or circumstance. And we all have the capacity to nurture others in our own unique ways.

So on this Mother’s Day, I encourage you to honor not just biological mothers, but all who have mothered you in any capacity:

And if you’re someone who nurtures others — whether you have children or not — know that your love matters profoundly. The seeds you plant may grow in ways you never witness, but they grow, nonetheless.

To my own mother, who watches from Heaven — thank you for showing me how unconditional love looks. I strive to reflect that love in both my life and my writing.