You Raised Me Up: A Thank You to Every Mother Who Made Me Who I Am
By my mum, who first taught me faith and trust.
By my mother-in-law, who shows love in quiet, steady ways.
By my titas, my ninangs, my friends, my mentors, and every woman whose words — or simply their presence — have shaped me.
This Mother’s Day, I honour you all: the women who loved me, prayed for me, and guided me.
You raised me up — with your strength, your faith, your grace.
And I carry you with me, every single day.
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Each one of these women — mothers in their own way — has poured something into me that I now pour into my own children.
Their words, their love, their example — they’re stitched into the way I mother, pray, love, and hope.
Here’s some of the best and the beautiful that I’ve carried from them:
From my mum:
“Obedience precedes blessing.”
“When you say 'yes' to the Lord, there’s no end to the blessings He pours out—for you, for your children, for generations to come.”
Her words have guided me through every season, reminding me that obedience isn’t about rules — it’s about trusting God’s bigger plan, even when I don’t see it yet.
From my Supermum friend Aisha, who is wise beyond her years:
“No one is perfect, but God gives the perfect mum for each child. So there's no one like you for your kid. You're all the mothers that your kids need.”
A reminder that I was chosen, equipped, and called for my children, exactly as I am.
And from Mama Mary, whose Fiat — her sacred yes — is everything:
Not in spoken words, but in the quiet witness of her life —
A heart that pondered.
A heart that trusted.
A heart that said “yes” even when she didn’t understand.
A heart strong enough to stand at the foot of the Cross.
Her yes opened the way for salvation, undoing the “no” of Eve.
And every painting of the Madonna and Child, across the centuries — no matter the artist, no matter the era — inspires; her beauty radiating with calm, with strength.
A beauty not just of face, but of faith.
A quiet strength that mothers carry still.
I pray for a heart like hers:
To mother with faith, hope, love, and strength.
From my mother-in-law:
A woman of few words, but whose life speaks all the advice I’ll ever need. Through her humility, constant service, and the way she hums and sings while working — she’s taught me that every task can be an offering of joy and purpose. Her quiet strength and grace are a legacy I see beautifully lived out in each of my sisters-in-law. I’m so blessed to be her daughter too.
From my Tita Lou, who raised me like her own:
“Papunta pa lang ikaw, pabalik na ako.”
This used to annoy me as a teenager.
Now that I’m older — and she’s long passed on — I understand.
I miss her voice, her steady presence, her stories that once felt like warnings but were really love.
Her constant reminder that she’d walked the road ahead wasn’t just caution — it was care.
Her wisdom came from experience, love, and grace.
From my boss and mentor Berny:
“Kids have good days and bad days. Just like us. Take it easy.”
Her words gave me permission to release impossible expectations, meet my children (and myself) with grace, and understand that tough days don’t make bad kids or bad mums — just human ones.
From my mentor, dear friend and colleague Brenda:
“God’s in His heaven.”
A simple, powerful reminder that God’s in control, handling everything.
That even when life feels overwhelming, I can cling to Him and trust:
He sees me. He’s got me.
He’ll never let me go.
She’s shared so much wisdom with me over the years — about life, work, motherhood.
But this one? This one’s held me through every season.
From my wise and witty friend Jane:
“You can’t pour from an empty cup.”
A simple reminder that’s stayed with me — permission to rest, refill, restore.
Because caring for others doesn’t mean depleting yourself; it begins with letting yourself be cared for too.
From my former SFC leader, Nay K:
“When you’re lost or struggling, start by asking yourself: how’s your prayer life? Then follow with: what would Jesus do?”
(And though it’s not motherhood advice, I carry this too:
“A man who’s serious about you will move mountains for you.”)
From my cheeky darling Bushee:
“Google it.”
Because yes, sometimes practical wisdom saves the day!
From my former CFC household leader, Ate Dang:
“Be specific in your prayers.”
A simple truth I’ve carried into every season, reminding me that God hears the details.
From my very zen friend Siobhan:
“Take a breath.”
I once asked her how she deals with difficult people at work, when everything in me wanted to explode.
I was stunned by this advice. It sounded so basic. But I tried it. And it worked.
It’s become one of the most practical, grounding pieces of advice I carry with me — proof that sometimes, the simplest things are truly gold.
From my partners in crime JJ and Abi:
Thank you for being my soundboard, my hype queens, my voices of reason. You remind me that no mother is meant to walk this road alone. Every mum needs her tribe — women who hold her up, stand in the gap, and laugh with her through the mess.
From my majestic friend Nora:
She didn’t give me a quote or a formula.
She gave me herself — a quiet, steady example of what it looks like to raise a mighty girl: beautiful inside and out, a daughter who grows up to be her mother’s best friend.
When I returned from maternity leave, fragile and trying to hold it together, Nora saw right through my brave face.
She told me it’s normal.
That it took time for her too.
That I should be kind to myself.
And somehow, her words made me breathe easier, knowing I wasn’t failing —
I was just human, and learning.
From my lifelong best friend Sarah:
“You’ve got this.”
She’s known me longer and deeper than anyone else — from childhood to now.
To be fully known by her, and still believed in, accepted, and cheered on?
That’s gold.
Her faith in me has carried me when I couldn’t find it in myself.
From my Tita Emy, whose quiet service has helped hold the clan together:
She didn’t raise me, but she’s cared for the ones who matter most to me.
Her faithfulness, her sacrifices, her steady love — they’ve shaped the rhythm of our extended family in ways that only now, as I grow older, I fully begin to see.
And when she married my best friend Sarah’s uncle, it felt like she made official what was already true in our hearts: that we were always meant to be connected, woven together not just by friendship, but by love, and family, and the grace of women like her.
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Each one of these women — whether I’ve named them here or carried them quietly in my heart — has mothered me in some way: with their words, their lives, their love. I carry them with me. They’ve shaped the mother I am and the mother I’m still becoming. Their grace is woven into my story, in ways I may never fully realise, but I know and I honour them all.
To every woman who’s ever mothered me, mentored me, guided me, lifted me: thank you.
Thank you for every quiet sacrifice, every whispered prayer, every moment of grace.
And to everyone reading this:
I hope you pause today.
I hope you think of the mothers who loved you into who you are.
I hope you remember their words — their best advice, their guiding truths.
I hope you carry their wisdom forward,
letting it shape the way you love, the way you lead, the way you mother —
whether you mother children, ideas, communities, dreams.
Happy Mother’s Day
to my mum, my mother-in-law,
and to every mum, every mother figure, every woman who’s ever mothered someone
by birth, by choice, by heart.
You are the quiet architects of hope.
The unseen builders of strength.
The living legacy of love.
We are who we are because of you.
“Her children rise up and call her blessed.” (Proverbs 31:28)
May you know today, and every day,
that the seeds of love you’ve sown
are blooming in ways you may never fully see, but heaven sees — and calls you blessed.
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