A mother's love. What a wonderful thing it is to know that you are cherished. The comfort of a mother is one thing I wish I had. I must be blessed to have a mother who really understands me, who has nothing but brutish words to hurl at me and a nagging personality that grates on everyone's nerves. To never yield and to remain bitter till you're impending death. If only I could be like her, maybe we would be the best of friends, dealing in deceitful things, spreading rumors, dashing hopes of dreams of those around her and catering only to my own self preservation. What a joy it would be to talk with her on such topics and be just like her!

But alas, I'm not like her. I'm too damn cheerful and loving to be that venomous. True I pretend to be evil and sometimes I give academy award winner performances as the lead evil villianess. Heck the only time my evil streak shows is when I'm on the ice slapping the puck around the boards or right before I check the next player within my awaiting grasp.

Humor, what a splendid thing. Humor the one thing my mother lacks; yet I embody. My laugh is infectious, though not to her stern exterior. Jokes fly by her like the Rio Grande cuts through the Grand Canyon. Ah, the Grand Canyon, what a magnificent sight to behold. The deadly chasm my mother has built between us is large then that natural wonder. Her canyon spreads beyond time itself. Her mother and her started building it long before I was conceived, long before she was conceived. Like they say hate can only bread hate. My grandmother's distaste for girls is enormous. As is my mother's. I struck out with both female role models in my life.

The only love I have ever had or felt has come from my two loving fathers. My biological father and my Heavenly Father. To be loved so it wonderful. To know that He has chosen me to be his child and guiding my life, unbeknownst to me, is magnificent. It was not my parents that lead me to Him, but by the Holy Spirit and the gift of music. If only she would learn to enjoy it as much as I do. It's always the same old thing. Turn that garbage off!' Garbage? But you listen to the same music I do. Is it too loud? No. Is it the wrong song? No. It is because I'm interrupting your TV hour? Do you wish to watch unwholesome rubbish spewed forth over magnetic waves across the country and world? Ah that must be it. My music of salvation, the songs I listen to and play, speaks of your sinful nature and reminds you of your shortcomings. Is that why you have to point out mine to me yet refuse to see the plank in your eye? Is that why you will not let me live my life? Is that why I cannot have praise, for fear that it may make me sin even further? Nay, it is not so. I do not need you to point out my faults, for the only one who needs to know of them know that they have been erased. Your need is to be hurtful and vindictive. If I have brought such misery to you why not cast me out? Cast me from your sight and repel me from you life. Your words and actions have done so already. You put an animal to sleep, in a way to be kind, but yet you refuse to let me go. You only hamper my development into the adult I wish to be by your non-pragmatic thoughts and actions.

But the day will come you will regret your words. Your actions. Your thoughts of hatred. You will learn the hard way of how things can flip. You mock your acquaintance and how she has dealt with her spawn. Can you not see? You are she on a meager level. Soon, very soon, I will be out of your life forever. Then and only then will you realize your folly. You will come to see that I am not there at holidays. I am not there on birthdays. I am not there on anniversaries. I do not write or call. I do not send my love, for I have none for your disgraceful living style. Other grandmothers will spoil the grandchildren you wanted to spoil. The son in law you wished to speak with, you will never meet. You will not be at the wedding so glorious that all that come are stunned. You will not see me, or any of my talents. Your hatred and spurning has driven you to the darkest pit. The pit of my despair. For though I do not wish to inflict such horrors upon you, you leave me no choice. I will not force my cares, my joys, and my triumphs on non-loving hearts. I dare not entrust all my valuable gifts of God to your care for fear you will taint the blessings with your black heart. A mother's love is that of undying love. A mother will love, when all else is lost. A mother will praise when things are not always right. A mother, a true mother, brings God's words before her children and let them choose salvation or damnation. I only wish that God had granted me a better mother. But then again, everything God does is for a reason. Maybe he didn't intend for me to feel unloved, but to be loved. Maybe, just maybe, he intended for me to love others though I will not be loved in return. That is the only way we can truly learn to love. To give it and expect nothing in return. That is why God loves us, and why I must love my mother, without her love in return.