This is about me remembering somebody: my mother. She made me who I am. The object I have here is a little pot that I gave her. She's no longer with us and she died on the 16th of February 2008 at 72. She was always very cheerful, compassionate, fair, wise, interesting, zealous, reliable, loving, giving and gracious.
My mother was a lovely lady, but she was like everybody else. She had faults and one of the things that used to really annoy me about my mum was the fact that when I came home from school, she didn't always believe what I told her and I always found that really frustrating. So even when we think we've got the perfect parent, they still make mistakes and I think that's so true of my mother. She would admit in a gracious way later on in life, that yeah, that was a mistake. That really challenged me and as a parent, I always believed my daughter or son.
My mum was always fair and felt that it is really important to never to compare one child against the other. I didn't have a degree. My sisters both got a degree, but I had confidence, because my parents said you're brilliant at netball, you're a brilliant runner, you're brilliant at writing and you're so caring. My mother has helped me have that strength of character.
We were always taught we were no better than anyone else. We come into this world with nothing. We go out with nothing and whatever walk of life you get given is OK. My husband is a well-respected lawyer. He's in the Old Bailey this week, but he's nothing you know, he’s only a person who I love and God gave me. He's very humble and he doesn't think he's anything special. He's just got a job that he got good at and does well.
So this little pot, it smiles at me every day. I have it in my bedroom on the side and it reminds me of my mum who taught me so much. I know that she taught me Christian values and her life was based on what she read and how God guided her, and that's been how I've lived as well. I've never been ashamed of my faith. That inner confidence I'm sure comes from my mother through God.
It's now 13 years ago since she died. I would say to her "You're enjoying yourself up there in heaven worshipping God, and you’ve probably got the biggest medal that there ever was because you deserve it." Meanwhile, I'm getting on with life and doing all the things that she taught me to do. That little pot is saying to me, "Keep going, keep living, don't worry about me I'm fine. Keep moving through life with purpose."
