My mother is my hero. She is everything I want to be. I watch her and I understand that, unlike some role models and heros, she doesn't aspire to see her name in lights. Rather, she becomes light to the people around her. My mother can do anything, she performs miracles on a regular basis, through faith in Christ, talent and love. It is without an undue sense of self that she pours herself out and becomes vast, like the ocean, deep and familiar, with secrets and stories to tell. Like seashells, pressed to my ear, I hear her voice in my mind, guiding me, my champion in the darkness, and my ancient-wise counselor in my many insecurities. I don't think she sees herself like I see her; A rarefied form of Christ's love, strong, brave, and wise. It is probable that I don't express to her in ways that would certify she understands....I'm proud and I'm blessed to know her, to be her daughter. Without her, I would not dream in color, I would not dare to try and I would not determine to succeed. Above all, having taught me that my weaknesses need not define me, she has loved me, even when they have. She is spectacular and excellent and beautiful. She is the dearest face I know. And unlike some role models and heroes, with their names in lights, who live in a distant constellation, I am priviledged because I know her and by knowing her,