Mom, The Root of My Inspiration

By Tuyu Ma

This book was created to celebrate you, the mothers of the world. A mother’s love for her children is constant and uninterrupted. You plod through life making the all sacrifices so the path your children walk on is as smooth as possible. There’s not much we can do to repay you. This book of inspiring stories is just a small, small token of our gratitude.

Tuyu Ma is my pen name. It’s the tongue and cheek phonetic spelling of “to you, ma,” and I created it to embody the reverence children hold for their mothers. The inspiration came when I noticed children dedicating their work and accomplishments to their mothers. In short, Tuyu Ma represents the deep thank you all of us children owe to each and every one of you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tuyu Ma
• Release date: May 7, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310184390

Tuyu Ma

I am the son of an incredible mother. Inspired by her life's work, I decided to share her inspiring story. I knew there had to be many others equally inspired, so I sought them out and they graciously shared their beautiful stories.Tuyu Ma is my pen. It’s the tongue and cheek phonetic spelling of “to you, ma,” and I created it to embody the reverence children hold for their mothers. The inspiration came when I noticed many children dedicating their work and accomplishments to their mothers. In short, Tuyu Ma represents the deep thank you all of us owe to you.

Book preview

MOM

THE ROOT OF MY INSPIRATION

By Tuyu Ma

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014 Tuyu Ma

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite retailer. Thank you for your support.

Why do we only spend one day celebrating mothers when we reap the benefits of her love every day?

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Stories

My Number One Dream

Enduring Shoes

Gypsy Music

Following Your Footsteps

House Overflowing With Love

The Way to Heaven is on Horseback

The Fight of Tough Love

The Sun Dried Up All the Rain

Destitution Breeds Development

The Charm of Three

The Lioness’ Spirit

It’s Not What I Wanted

The Home My Mother Made

The Road Not Traveled Alone

Share the Inspiration

Acknowledgements

Writing in this book wouldn’t have been possible without my co-conspirators, the children. They graciously shared their hearts and their stories. Without their contributions, this book wouldn’t reflect all the beautiful ways mothers inspire and shape the lives of all of us. Their stories highlight the importance of the most indispensable person in this world, our moms.

Introduction

This book was created to celebrate you, the mothers of the world. A mother’s love for her children is constant and unbridled. You plod through life making the all sacrifices so the path your children walk on is as smooth as possible. There’s not much we can do to repay you. This book of inspiring stories is just a small, small token of our gratitude.

Tuyu Ma is my pen name. It’s the tongue and cheek phonetic spelling of to you, ma, and I created it to embody the reverence children hold for their mothers. The inspiration came when I noticed, through articles and media, children dedicating their work and accomplishments to their mothers. In short, Tuyu Ma represents the deep thank you all of us children owe to each and every one of you.

My Number One Dream

I wrote my number one dream down. It was Saturday February 10th, 2007, and I had created three lists, which consisted of my dreams, goals and values. The idea came while reading a book my mentor had recommended. When I got to the section of dreams, the author starts it off with the following phrase, If I had unlimited time, talent, money, knowledge, self confidence, and support from family, here is a list of everything I would like to do with my life… Then I wrote the following without hesitation. I want to take care of my mother’s needs, especially financially. I want to be able to tell her she never has to work in a factory ever again. Despite writing this and over 50 dreams down, I wouldn’t revisit this list till I realized one of my worst fears years later.

The dream began shortly after my birth in 1981, in my country of Laos, as my parents were contemplating the decision to follow my uncle’s immigration to America. It wasn’t an easy decision. Leaving a communist country alone posed great challenges and risks. To leave our homeland, my parents would have to leave their families behind, trade in a lifestyle and a set of norms for one that was completely foreign and unknown. It was just in 1954 when Laos had gained its sovereignty after nearly 100 years of French Indochina rule. But the thought of staying to see the development of a new political system posed too much uncertainty for them, and for us five young children. My parents agreed the decision to immigrate to America was a risk they were willing to wager for the chance of more opportunities.

The circuitous path to America first involved escaping in the dark hours of night across the Mekong River. The river separated the borders of Laos and Thailand to its west. My parents, with five children and two other families in tow, traveled in a small boat across the Mekong. Our first destination was the Na Pho Refugee camp located in central Thailand. Many other Laotians had made the trip before, so this path gave us the best hope to escape the oppressive communist regime. Upon arriving on the Thailand border, we were stopped by two nefarious militiamen. There on the banks of the Mekong, they tried to separate the women and children from the men; ordering the men to return back to Laos while the rest would stay under their watch. It was then my mother defiantly shouted that the militiamen would have to let us go or kill us all; we would leave together or die together. After searching for monies and subjecting the adults to indignities, they let us go. We spent the next thirteen months at the refugee camp, and then made our way to the Philippines for nine more while our immigration paperwork got sorted out.

Arriving in America took longer than we anticipated, but with the help of a Catholic church and my uncle we arrived safely in August 1986. My mom stayed home with us for the first couple of years before she found work doing housekeeping duties at a children’s long-term care facility. Her limited English and skill set didn’t match many office jobs, so for years she worked where she could. After that job, it was one factory after another.

I knew something was terribly wrong when I noticed she couldn’t cut into her steak with her silverware. The purple hue on her right thumb suggested it was deeply bruised; years of toiling in a factory to support a growing family had finally come to a head on this fateful Saturday, March 17th, 2012. We were at a Brazilian steakhouse and realizing she wasn’t able to enjoy it made my heart ache. I couldn’t sleep the next night because of the thoughts, I imagined, could be going through her head. The thought of her counting down the days till God ended her physical suffering tugged