My Mother didn’t bake cookies,
Or join the PTA.
But she raised me very well,
In her own kind of way.

My Mom had an illness,
Not the type you think.
She really had a problem,
Anytime she took a drink.

I always knew she meant no harm,
Her hurts ran very deep.
It must have been so hard,
Those secrets she had to keep.

And then one day, through the grace of God,
She decided to get sober.
It was hard at first to see her struggles,
But I was glad the drinking was over.

It was really nice to see my mom,
Overcome such an addiction.
She struggled through and took control,
Every step filled with conviction.

I never saw the kind of strength,
A woman could possess,
It really made me look at life,
And strive for nothing less.

For all the things I learned growing up,
Though not always the best.
The biggest thing my childhood brought,
Was life is just a test.

You’re not always going to live the same,
As some expect you to.
You’ll make some choices, good and bad
But these will make you, you.

So to all those who try to judge and blame,
When they never had to suffer.
I’m glad I had the life I had,
Even though a little rougher.

It made me who I am today,
Wise and compassionate like my Mother.
So I thank God for her every day,
I would not want another.