Personal Narrative: My Mom Is My Hero

Mom had always been the provider of the family. She worked at a failing elementary school as a reading recovery specialist. She didn't care so much about the money as much as she cared about her school kids. She was a very loving person who wanted her school kids and her actual kids to succeed in life. Mom was 5’2 and weighed one hundred and two pounds, she also had short brown hair. Her eyes were the color of the sky. Your mother cared so much about you in particular because you were the oldest and hoped that you’d go off to college and travel the world. Your father, on the other hand, was nothing to look at. He stood at 5 feet and weighed one hundred fifty pounds. He was bald, sunburnt, reeked of pot and lone star beer. He was in the military

First there was nothing but darkness. It felt like an endless void for one man. But as quickly as the darkness appeared, it disappeared into the light of day. The man dubbed ‘Hero’ quickly looked around the lush hills consisting of trees, rabbits, birds, squirrels and… slimes? He slowly walked over to one, still not trusting his legs, and as he drew closer the slime jumped at him. The slime impacted Hero and sent him stumbling backwards. Hero looked for something to fend off the attacker and found a copper short sword at his hip. He pulled it out of the sheath and stabbed at the slime. To his surprise the slime exploded into a pile of copper coins and a few balls of slime. Walking toward it he was surprised when the 2 objects started to float

I don't remember the day but I know it was in the summer.i was still 5 and was a crazy kid.it was a sunny day.me and my friends were having fun and we were just playing tag.then we played hide and seek.then some other kids came out.so we played tag again then we went back home.the next day it was only me and one of my other friends in my mind i was thinking why was no one coming out.so me and my friend just played hide and seek.while we were playing i thought to myself what if they went to a party and didn't tell me.but I didn't care.while i was running i was distracted and looked behind me.then i tripped a branch and fell on a bunch of rocks to be honest i thought it was nothing when i stood up i felt the excruciating pain and fell on the ground.

I woke up alone in my bedroom. Mom wasn't home yet, but Appy, my grandfather, and Ya, my grandmother, were right outside my room. I heard both of their voices yelling at someone. They were mad. Who were they yelling at? Scared, I slowly snuck out of the safety of my room and saw both of them screaming at my mom.

After my mother and I have an argument she usually smiles at me and says, it’s because we’re so much alike that we argue. She reminds me that our lack of communicating often stirs more trouble than why we were arguing. I used to get upset that my mom didn’t set time aside for our family to spend time together or make us eat together at the dinner table. I was upset because I was comparing our family to my friends’ families. I valued those things and assumed my mom didn’t, but I was wrong. My mom had so much on her mind everyday it was breaking her on the inside. Not only had I wanted my mom to be like my friend’s moms, now I had wanted my mom to be different because she was depressed. Bonhoeffer mentions that we desire images of others that we want, but aren’t the true image they bear as Christ’s (pg37-38). At first I was puzzled. How is a good image of mine, not Christ’s image for her? I learned that His image is neither right nor wrong, but simply uniquely divine. My mom could have done those things, but her whole life would have had to be different, and I would never want to change who my mom is.

Five and a half years ago, my father played softball at a place in Manteca called Big League Dreams where he met his wife and my step mom. Little did I know that my step mom at the time would become my step mom. When I first met her, when she came over to my father house’s, she seemed like a nice woman. Then, a year later she started to act like she was my mom. I wasn’t happy with that because she started to become strict and not fun at all. However, one day she started to help me get organized my clothes, books, and even my video games which took a long time. Fast forward to the year for 2013 on Christmas day at about nine o'clock in the morning, my father proposed to her and that was a happy day for my entire family. On October 10,

Sitting on my mother's lap has always been the safest place for me. Although she beholds a lovely image, I imagine her as a fearless warrior ready and armed to attack anyone who dared to touch her child. I admired my mother's strength as I watched her work for tireless hours, but, furthermore, I admired her willingness to sacrifice resting time in order to be with my siblings and me. Although my mother did not have a warrior's armor consisting of a sword and shield, listening to her stories about Mexico, her love for my father, and their struggle in America, she became that fearless fighter who protected me and guided me through hardships.

The first person that comes to mind when I think of a successful leader is my former choir teacher in the Catholic church. All of the students call her Mrs. Santos, she’s been in the industry of supervising and teaching children and young adults to sing for decades. Every person automatically respects her, and it’s because of the air of authority that she carries. I was initially petrified of that aspect because she seems strict but it turns out she’s a very kind woman.

The person I consider my personal hero would be my twin sister, Brittlyn Massey. She’s 16 years old and looks exactly like me, we’re identical twins. We’ve grown up together and have always had an amazing pact. She understands, has a calming presence and is compatible. I have never been so unquestionably influenced by anyone else. We’re great sisters and even better friends.

Dark brown eyes lined with a certain hardness within them as she stared straight ahead, unflinching, unblinking eyes at me. Her slender angular face is soft—a warm honey beige that makes the orange curvature of her lips painted in a not-so smile, red from the wine and ambrosia that she had been eating. She holds herself upright, her rough calloused hands placed firmly on the metal infused with a jade sword, yet at her back is her most favored weapon; her jaded ax.

The children were listening to the Alligator Alphabet book and were introduced to the letters and their sounds.

I grew up in Edmond, Oklahoma, which has such an amazing community, where there are so many people who have helped me learn and grow, especially my family. I have always been empowered to do my best, and this has helped me accomplish the highest standards I can.

Throughout my entire life my mom has shaped who I am as an individual and how I act and how I treat other people. Ever since I was a baby in diapers I can remember my mom being the person who always tell me right and wrong. I feel like my mom has high expectations of everything I do and how I act, but I think that is a good thing. She just wants me to be a good person, what is best for me and I really think that defines her character. Somebody who always wants to do the best thing and tries to make the best of every situation.

My mom used to beat me every single day. And I do not feel bad about saying this, it's in my memory and yet something tells me not to believe it. She not only beat me but my sister Angelica as well. I remember her beatings on myself more. If I think back to it I can almost feel how fearful I felt and how much I wanted her to stop. Anything or everything would make her go off on us. We were walking on eggshells. No matter how many times I tried my best to avoid making her mad or cause her to verbally abuse us, nothing worked. I grew up thinking I was a bad kid. I grew up thinking her actions and behavior were my fault. I found ways to keep her happy and she was always miserable. We never seen her genuinely happy for us, not a single day. Her

A leader that I most admire is Oprah Winfrey. Oprah Winfrey is from a rural area in Mississippi. She was born to a teenage single mother. Her early years she was raised by her grandmother which she taught her how to read. She was then sent back to live with her mother. While in her mother’s care she was molested as a teenager by many family friends and male relatives. She became pregnant at the age of 14, the baby died shortly after birth. Shortly after she was sent to live with her father in Tennessee. Her father was strict on education and as a result she excelled as a student. Despite her up bring, Oprah did not give up. She went to college at Tennessee State University, where she studied communications. She begun working as a radio and