My mom, my hero

I wrote a post not too long ago on how things couldn't have been easy for my mom. She was raised in an orphanage until old enough to make it on her own. I can count on one hand the things I knew about her childhood. She just didn't talk about it. Through Facebook, we have reconnected with some of her family. My sister started asking questions, and the answers were not easy to hear. I always knew my mom didn't have the best of childhoods. I mean, she lost her dad before the age of five and orphanage life was all she knew. She didn't just have a tough childhood, she had a terrible childhood. But for all of this, my mother didn't complain. She never used it as an excuse for anything. She never used it against her kids when we had a moment of brattiness or acting unappreciative. Simply put, my mom did not let her past affect her future. She was dealt a bad hand in life, but she didn't use it as a crutch. My mom was a woman of faith and a woman of great strength. For all this, my mom is my hero.