One thing about Mom, you always knew what she was thinking—whether you wanted to know or not. You also knew you were loved.

A few years ago Mom was on her way to the hairdresser when another driver ran a stop sign and smashed into her Buick. Mom got out, inspected the damage, and exchanged insurance information with the other driver. While waiting for the police to arrive, Mom popped the trunk and motioned the other woman to the trunk.

“My son’s a writer,” Mom announced, “and I’ve got some of his books. Do you want a copy?” I wasn’t at the crash site, but knowing Mom, I imagine the inflection in her voice was more like: “You do want a copy of my son’s book, right?” I’m almost certain of this because the woman bought one copy of my pirate novel. I bet the woman doesn’t even have kids.

But that was Mom–always hawking my books and asking me how my writing was going. She worried constantly I wouldn’t make enough as a writer to support my family. I kept telling her our daily provision is God’s business; mine was to be obedient and write stories that reflect His truths.

In 2012 I lost my biggest fan and best salesperson.

The last thing Mom told me was, “I’m not as young as I used to be, Son. You need to come see me once in a while.”

I will, Mom. One of these days we’ll be together, again.

If you’re blessed enough to still have your mom around, give her a hug and whisper, “Love you, Mom.” Trust me, it’s the best and cheapest gift there is.

Love you, Mom.

—EJ