Every girl needs a mom—not just to guide her through childhood, but to help her understand who she is and who she can become. A mother is often a girl’s first teacher, first protector, and first example of strength, compassion, and resilience. Whether through gentle encouragement or tough love, a mother shapes her daughter’s sense of self-worth, helps her navigate life’s challenges, and offers a steady hand in an uncertain world. A girl may grow into independence, but the foundation her mother lays remains—etched into her values, her choices, and her heart.

When I was growing up, my family was very close to the Hodges family. (You don’t Have to Have the Same DNA To Be Family). Norma is the matriarch of this family and a woman who knows my story and shares my past.  She was there during the early chapters of my life—woven into the fabric of my childhood through a deep friendship with my mom. We spent a lot of time with the Hodges family, and many of my best childhood memories include all of the members of this family.

I lost my mom to cancer when she was 44 and I was 23.

Norma stepped in and ministered to my family, as only she could. It’s her gift. And she excels at it.

I was married and living 60 miles from the place I’d always called home, and Norma’s family had moved away from our hometown as well. Life pulled us in different directions, and sadly, we lost touch. Sometimes I wonder—if either of those things hadn’t happened—would we have stayed closer? Would our bond have grown even stronger over the years? But at the time, we couldn’t have known what that relationship might have grown into. She was my mom’s best friend, and 18 years older than me—a gap that felt wide when I was in my twenties. Back then, I saw her as an adult from a different world.

The years flew by and just recently we reconnected. Last week, I had the privilege of spending a week with Norma in Oregon. I also had the chance to visit with 3 of her children and my childhood friends, Kie, Kevin and Randi. Bill, her husband, has since passed, and the other siblings now live farther away.

Now, with the perspective of time, the age gap between Norma and me has faded. These days, it feels less like a generational gap and more like a meeting of kindred spirits—two women who share not just a past, but a quiet understanding of what it means to carry a friendship forward, no matter the age.

We reminisced about stories from the past, of course – of the Sunday dinners, the camping weekends, the holiday events, the music sing-a-longs, and the good old-fashioned homemade ice cream.

Norma shared stories about my mom that were new to me – and, as such, were so very special.

One fascinating part of our visit was how Norma was able to clarify some of my childhood impressions. You know how, as a kid, you don’t always have the full picture and end up forming your own version of events? As an adult, she was able to fill in the missing pieces and help me understand what was really happening at the time.

But I think the most precious moments of all were when Norma sat in her rocking chair, and I literally sat at her feet and we just talked, like mother and daughter.

That.

That intimate conversation between a mother and daughter.

That connection.

It brought me to tears.

If you have it, treasure it.

Nurture it.

Because when you don’t have it, you’ll miss it.

Take it from me.

A quilt I made for Norma.