Dearest Mummy: A Letter from Your Grown Daughter

Dearest Mummy, 

We rarely celebrate Mother’s Day—simply because your birthday falls on the same week, so we just celebrate both together. 

Mummy, I know that over the past 25 years, you’ve done everything for me and our family without expecting anything in return. But your love and hard work haven’t gone unnoticed. They deserve my deepest gratitude and acknowledgement. 

Mummy, thank you for being my confidant.

Thank you that I can always pour out my emotions to you wholeheartedly. With you, it’s always a safe, no-judgement zone. When I was still in school, we’d go shopping together. You shared about your workplace challenges while I talked about school. Those precious moments laid the foundation for how openly we share our lives with one another. 

I recall how you comforted me when I broke down on the kitchen floor as you washed the dishes, as my entire secondary school clique had ostracised me. I badly wanted a school transfer then. I also remember how your eyes lit up in excitement when I shared about a guy who confessed to me. And, how you screamed and jumped after I ended a call in which I received my first job offer. I still remember your warm embrace and affirming words: “I knew you could do it!”

You stood by me through it all—faithfully and lovingly.

With you, it’s always a safe, no-judgement zone.

There were, however, times when you didn’t know how to respond or reacted in a way that hurt me unintentionally. In recent years, I shared how some of your passing comments had affected me. Thank you for humbly accepting my feedback to react more kindly so that I feel heard and validated. I appreciate your efforts to be quick to listen and slow to speak. I know it takes courage to admit and apologise.  

Mummy, thank you for being my strength.

My secondary school years were the toughest years. I struggled socially, academically, and emotionally. I even dreaded going to school because of a friendship fallout. Every night without fail, I’d go off like a broken recorder: “I don’t want to go to school tomorrow!” 

During this season, you gently pointed me back to the Lord and prayed for me. Your steadfast presence anchored me, and gave me the quiet confidence to face challenges. Although I had to brave these storms myself, I knew I was never alone.  

Aside from my friendship woes, I was also archenemies with maths. Maths assignments often left me in tears, as I felt stupid for not grasping the concepts. 

As a maths teacher yourself, you never once lost your temper with me. Instead, you patiently taught me and even asked your colleagues to help me whenever I struggled with my studies. 

Then, there was . . . puberty! Under the guise of “going through puberty”, I lashed out at you with unkind and hurtful words during our fiery arguments and heated exchanges. 

You had to deal with your teenage daughter undergoing puberty, even as you fought your own battle with menopause.

You saw the ugliest and most broken sides of me, yet you didn’t take out your frustrations on me or despise me. Instead, you chose to forgive me, even when I was in the wrong. For three straight years, you had to put up with my emotional upheavals. You had to deal with your angsty teenage daughter undergoing puberty, even as you fought your own battle with menopause.

Mummy, I don’t know how you did all of that. Perhaps, you trusted in God and leaned on Him for strength. As the psalmist sings: “The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and he helps me. My heart leaps for joy, and with my song I praise him” (Psalm 28:7). 

Because you leaned on God for everything, you were, and still are, a pillar of strength for me. 

Mummy, thank you for being a sacrificial and diligent worker.

In school, you’re known as “Mdm Lim”. At home, you’re the Mummy who does it all. 

The only “career break” you ever took was for eight months after giving birth to me. But your promotion to mum came with even greater responsibilities, like being on call 24/7 as my personal milk machine and diaper changer.

When I started school, you made it a point to cook dinner whenever your schedule allowed. You often rushed home after work to prepare dinner for us. And while others could relax after work, you spent your evenings marking your students’ homework. 

For the next 24 years, you worked full-time while raising me. On top of that, you cared for my grandmother until she passed on, and looked after an intellectually-challenged aunty who lived with us.

You gave up your hobbies and interests to devote your time and energy to the family, enduring pain and discomfort in your hands from decades of housework.

Despite these frustrations, you were never once bitter. Instead, you looked to the Lord for strength and refuge, and continued serving our family with a willing spirit.

Even though being a working mum was tough, you never once gave up. As I grew older, you started opening up about your own struggles—from rude students to difficult colleagues—and how you sometimes wished someone else could do the housework, just so you could rest after a long workday. 

Despite these frustrations, you were never once bitter. Instead, you looked to the Lord for strength and refuge, and continued serving our family with a willing spirit.

Mummy, thank you for your loving acts of service.

Even though I’m a working adult now, every week without fail, you still ask me which days I’ll be home so you can cook dinner for me. You know I prefer homecooked food, so you try your best to rush home after a long day at work just to prepare “something simple”. You even go the extra mile to prepare more so I can heat it up for lunch the next day. 

Mummy, I want you to know how much I love your cooking, even when you call it “something simple”. It’s never just about the food, but the love and warmth you pour into every humble, soul-filling meal. 

I often come to you with all sorts of requests, sometimes at the worst possible timings, like when you’re already tucked in and drifting off to sleep, or when we are busy running errands. But somehow, you always remember. The items I ask for magically appear the next day, either neatly placed on the dining table or lovingly noted on a sticky note stuck on my toothbrush so that I won’t miss it. 

Thank you for quietly providing and caring for me. Your humble acts of service say more about your love than words ever could.

Mummy, the state of our home tells the story of someone who loves and serves quietly, faithfully and without fanfare. Like the dirty dishes that somehow get washed before I reach them. My wrinkled outfits that show up crisp and neat in the morning. Or the rubbish bin in my room that never overflows because you already emptied it before I even notice.

Thank you for quietly providing and caring for me. Your humble acts of service say more about your love than words ever could.

Mummy, thank you for entrusting me to God.

As the only child—the one you and Daddy prayed so hard for, the child God gave you after years of struggling with infertility—many might assume you’d be controlling and overprotective of me. 

But thankfully, you’re the complete opposite. In your love for me, you and Daddy trusted me, gave me the freedom to make my own decisions, and supported me in everything I did, as long as I honoured God. 

You never insisted on tuition, or pressured me to give up my leadership roles, even though my grades were just average in secondary school. Those decisions—and your trust in me—I don’t take for granted.  

You know your eyes can’t always be on me, but that the God who never slumbers nor sleeps always watches over me (Psalm 121:3–4).

Some friends used to joke: “Your mum don’t care about you ah?”

Mummy, I know it’s not because you don’t care, but because you trust that God loves me as His precious child. You know your eyes can’t always be on me, but that the God who never slumbers nor sleeps always watches over me (Psalm 121:3–4). You believe that God would keep me from all harm and watch over my life, “both now and for evermore” (vv. 7–8). Your trust in Him has taught me to trust in Him, too.

Finally, Mummy, thank you for always pointing me back to God.

Last year, you started pasting handwritten Bible verses on the fridge so you could memorise God’s Word. As I see the rows of Scripture memory verses grow on our fridge, I’m encouraged by your love for God’s Word—a reflection of your desire to draw closer to Him. 

Knowing that age is catching up and your memory isn’t what it used to be, you’ve chosen to hold God’s truths even closer to your heart—and in doing so, you’ve impressed upon me to do the same.

Growing up, you gave me free rein over most things, except when it came to my spiritual well-being. Proverbs 22:6 guided you: “Start children off on the way they should go, and even when they are old they will not turn from it”. 

You quizzed me on my Sunday school memory verses, and helped me when I struggled to remember them. You insisted on approving my church outfits to ensure they were truly my “Sunday best”, and you often reminded me—sometimes with a good dose of nagging—to sleep early on Saturday nights so I could “give God the best” the next morning. 

While those weekly church routines were important, it was the way you pointed me to God in our daily living that left a lasting impact in shaping my worldview and values.

Your mantra has always been: “Do your best. Honour God and He will honour you.” You’ve repeated it countless times, especially when I’m stressed out, anxious, or fearful. Your reminders spoken in love echo Jesus’s assurance in Matthew 6:33: “But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well”. 

It was the way you pointed me to God in our daily living that left a lasting impact in shaping my worldview and values.

Whenever I fell prey to the rat race and comparison trap, I lamented that my résumé wasn’t as outstanding as my peers because I had chosen to spend my time serving God. Yet, you pointed me back to God’s faithfulness and provision, just as Paul encouraged the Corinthian believers in their service to the Lord in 1 Corinthians 15:58:

Because of that, you cultivated within me a reverence towards God from young, and impressed upon me biblical principles that still guide my decision-making today. 

Thank You for Being You

Mummy, this letter is just a snapshot of your countless contributions to me and our family. You may not be the perfect mother, but you gave your best for me and embodied the character of Christ in all you did—and that’s all that truly matters. 

Happy Mother’s Day, Mummy, I love you! 

Your loving daughter,
Odelia