The Quiet Resolve

There are years in a life that seem to gather all the storms at once, testing the limits of endurance and resolve. 2025, for my mama, has been such a year. A relentless series of challenges that has called forth a strength in her I have always admired, but never witnessed so vividly. It began years ago with the quiet heartbreak of my papa’s family never really liking her and turning against us over the smallest disagreements. She didn’t want to let her sister-in-law use our pool and finally got the courage to say “no.” Though things had been brewing under the surface for a long time this was the rupture the volcano needed to start flowing. Their bitterness grew until it left my papa injured, and even then, they refused to take the chance to change. My papa has already endured two surgeries, each one leaving him more tethered down than before, and the doctors think more still lie ahead. He relies on her for a lot; from tending to him, to the emotional work of keeping his spirits from sinking too deep. It is exhausting, relentless work, yet she shows up for him day after day, even when her own body aches from the strain. There is no clocking out, no clear end to this season, only the steady choice to keep caring for the person she loves.

Caring for him has reshaped every corner of her life. Simple things. Meals, errands, even sleep now bend around the rhythms of his pain and recovery. She carries the weight of appointments, medications, and endless what-ifs, all while making sure bills are paid, the house and farm are kept, and the rest of us are held together. It is a kind of quiet heroism that rarely gets named, the sort of strength that hides in plain sight because it looks so ordinary: a woman rising to meet the day, again and again, no matter how much it takes from her.

Throughout these difficult months, I have watched my mama confront adversity from all directions with a resilience that is quiet but unwavering. She carried the weight of my papa’s injury, tending to him with care while also holding the rest of our lives together. Even when the weight of daily burdens threatens to overwhelm, she continues to press forward, adapting and finding ways to carry on. Her determination is remarkable, shining through in her ability to keep moving, to look for solutions, and to persist even when the way ahead is uncertain.

The demands on her time and energy have often been extraordinary, yet she meets them with patience and grace. Even when her car needed not one but two major repairs—adding stress and expense to already heavy days—she faced it with a sharp determination, pushing through instead of letting the frustration stop her. While others might give in to despair, she meets hard days with fire, sharp moments with resolve, and the bleakest times with the decision to keep going. She reminds me that true strength isn’t the absence of hardship, but the willingness to stand in the middle of it and refuse to be defeated.

Reflecting on this year, I see my mama more fully than ever. Not just as a caretaker or a problem solver, but as a whole human being with her own grief, anger, and exhaustion running beneath the surface of her strength. I notice the way her hands move when she tends to my papa, steady even when she is bone tired. I notice the way she fights through anger at the unfairness of it all, but still shows up because she refuses to let bitterness be the last word. There is a depth to her I did not always recognize before, a mixture of steel and tenderness, fury and devotion, that makes me realize how incomplete it is to think of her as only strong. She is complicated, layered, and fiercely human, and that makes her strength all the more extraordinary.

There are days when I wish circumstances were easier for her, when I wish I could lift some of the weight from her shoulders and give her space to rest, even just for a day. But I also know that witnessing her resilience is a gift, one that has changed me in quiet ways. It teaches me that courage is not loud or dramatic. Sometimes it looks like showing up again and again, no matter how many times life knocks you down. It reminds me that the deep wells of courage we all carry within us do not reveal themselves until hardship leaves us no choice but to draw from them. When I see her, I see the possibility that even in the darkest seasons, love can be stubborn enough to keep a person moving forward.

This year has changed her, and it has changed me too. I am grateful for her example, her fortitude, and her unwavering heart. In both quiet moments and loud ones, through daily frustrations and long battles, my mama’s strength stands as a gentle but powerful beacon guiding our family and inspiring me to keep moving forward.

What I understand now is that strength is not a single act or a grand gesture. It is the slow accumulation of choices made in the middle of hard days. It is the grit to get up when the body aches, to answer the call when no one else will, to keep showing love even when the world feels unloving in return. My mama has lived that truth in front of me, and it has shifted the way I see not only her but myself.

I do not know what the rest of this year will hold for her, for my papa, or for me. The road ahead is still uncertain, surgeries still loom, and new challenges will no doubt come. But I carry a different kind of assurance now. I know that whatever storms arrive, we have already seen how a person can stand in the center of them and refuse to fall. My mama has shown me that resilience is not something you wait to find; it is something you build, one choice at a time. And because she has shown me, I believe I can build it too.