Don't Poke a Momma Bear
The fights that define us and why mothers matter.
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The pile of bills and paperwork was spread all over the dining room table. My father looked at me, and for the first time in my life, he broke down crying. In a choked voice he said “I am so sorry for you.” With his experience, he knew what I could not yet comprehend: My road ahead would be incredibly hard. I would face tremendous emotional, physical, and financial pressures. And he knew his limitations as a grandfather so he was, genuinely and deeply, sorry for me.
You see, it was less than a week since I was widowed. My eldest was ten. My youngest was two. I could not see what the journey would look like because I could barely breathe, much less think more than a few hours ahead. The devastation was so great, the grief so intense, my mind was numb.
It has been over sixteen years since that moment was indelibly etched in my memory. The one where you watch your own strong father break — not for himself, but for his daughter.
What the Road Looked Like
Being the only parent was undeniably difficult. Waking at 5 AM to grill chicken and prepare five meals before the crack of dawn: breakfast after 6 AM water polo practice, lunches packed for all three boys, schedules juggled, sports practices coordinated, a living made. I am grateful for the now-defunct Spirit Airlines, whose low fares allowed all of us to visit my parents in Panama after I decided to remain in the United States and take a go at it as a widowed mom.
I honestly do not know how I did it. But truth be told, it was not me. It was God who kept us afloat, safe and actually thriving. We walked in His shadow. He opened doors.
What the Road Produced
My sons are now 27, 25 and 19.
My eldest is an Ivy League aerospace engineer designing rovers that will go to the moon and rockets that will deliver satellites into orbit. My second is a Boston College software engineer — go Eagles — with a bright future ahead of him. He moonlights making political ads, helping his mother’s start-up in his spare time:
https://www.bro.gop/florida-man
My youngest is about to graduate from high school and become a Florida Gator. The best is still ahead for the baby, and he has excellent role models to follow.
The road was hard. But this country allowed me to do what none of my other homelands would: advance my sons, become financially stable, live with purpose. None of this would have been possible in Venezuela, Panama or Mexico. I know this not as an abstraction but as a woman who has lived in all three countries and loves each one of them.
What the Road Prepared Me For
When 2020 arrived, two groups of mothers rose to the challenge. The cool kids who fought for health freedom. And the nerds like me, who understood what was happening to election security and could not look away.
Having spent years in constant reliance on God, in ongoing conversation with Him, in the practiced discipline of surrendering outcomes I could not control, I knew what a calling felt like when it arrived. I had felt it before, standing in a kitchen at 5 AM with three boys to feed and no map for what came next. I responded then. I responded again in 2020.
In the process I earned what I can only describe as an empirical degree in political science, complete with unpaid internships. The same instinct that kept three boys alive, educated and launched into the world is the same instinct that made me impossible to ignore what had happened when Joe Biden was declared winner of the 2020 elections. When poked, momma bears do not go home and be quiet.
To Every Mother Reading This
The bills spread across the dining room table. The 5 AM alarm. The packed lunches. The juggling of schedules. The grief that made it impossible to breathe and the God who breathed for you until you could manage it yourself.
If any of that is your story too, then you already know what I know: the road that looks impossible from the dining room table looks very different from the other side of it. Happy Mother’s Day to every fine lady who has locked arms with me and joined the fight for freedom. You know who you are.
P.S.: HMD to the dads who’ve done both. I also feel like I’m entitled to a Father’s Day celebration.
P.S.2: Sorry' I’ve been absent - helping move my middle boy to Atlanta where he has a new job.
"You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated. In fact, it may be necessary to encounter the defeats so you can know who you are, what you can rise from, how you can still come out of it."
Maya Angelou
Heavenly Father,
We thank You for the mothers who did not quit. The ones who carried what no person should have to carry alone and did it anyway. We are grateful for the doors You open when every human option looks closed.
We pray for every mother reading this who is somewhere in the middle of her own impossible road. Let her feel, even for a moment today, that she is not alone and that You are already there ahead of her, opening a path she cannot yet see.
And we pray for the mothers in this nation, sustained by their sacrifice, and worth every fight they have chosen to join.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.
As we gear up for the Governor’s race in Florida, this may be worth noting:
God bless you.
Praying Mantis you are an inspiration to so many people knowing that tough times are not avoidable, but they can be overcome with courage, faith and perseverance -- all great qualities of so many Mothers who are recognized on this Mother's Day!