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Writer's pictureEsther Kamoche Robinson

A Tribute to a Great Mother: A Mother With An Impossible Dream

Updated: Feb 22, 2022


To My Mom My Greatest Hero. Happy African American History Month.






My Mom and Dad had five children in Buffalo, New York in the eighties. We didn’t have a dime but we had lots of love. We grew up in the projects and we came from humble beginnings. We didn’t always have the kind of food that we wanted and we wore lots of hand-me-downs. But Mom was faithful to go to church and whenever the doors were opened we were there. Church was our playground and we felt like we had everything. We had good times and good friends that loved us. We also got warm food in our bellies and lots of good times singing, dancing, and celebrating Jesus. We had a host of people who cared, encouraged, loved, and supported us, who became our family. My mom sent us to our families houses during the summers and on overnight weekend visits. Spent lots of time in the country, learned discipline, hard work, and had lots of fun. We learned how to play and work hard. We learned how to work on a farm, we learned how to run a home, while playing and frolicking in the country. All of this while learning God is everywhere, you just have to stop and look around and see the impossible.


My Mom taught us the Bible daily and about God’s amazing grace. With prayers around the table, on long walks, while planting flowers in the rain, playing outside in the deep snow, playing in our run down beat up neighborhoods, and during long crowded car rides with others to church. She taught us that we can do anything and also to never give up, because with God all things are possible. We struggled in school because we weren’t the smartest or the fastest. We often didn’t make the mark. We weren’t the right culture and we weren’t the right fit so we often felt isolated at school and in our neighborhood, but we had lots of fun and good times at our home and at church. Despite being ridiculed, bullied, mocked regularly for being different, because my father was an African immigrant and we had a mom who loved God an awful lot. We kept pressing on. My Mom taught us to keep doing our best, keep loving each other, keep loving others, and most of all keep loving God, and to never give up on our dreams. She taught us to keep moving forward.


When our Dad died, my Mom taught us to keep pressing on and to never give up on loving God. That means being determined to live, work, and play in harmony with others. Keep dreaming, keep dancing, keep singing, and keep pressing on. We grew up during difficult times, we didn't have a lot of money, but with plenty of laughter, love, and good times we kept moving on, we kept pressing forward. We didn’t always have enough food but we had great faith and a host of church people from different church communities who inspired, uplifted, loved, and supported us. With my Mom’s great determination and faith and her enormous heart, over time we all grew up and became college educated. She raised five of her own children and embraced a host of other kids who all grew up to continue to fight daily for the rights of others. My mom is my hero she inspires me daily to keep dreaming and keep on striving for excellence in every area of my life and continue the great work of the great commission which is to Go and Tell the good news of Jesus Christ to all the world. To continue to love others like Christ. My mom is my greatest hero and so I honor her today by sharing her story with you all.




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