“You are just like your mom.” I must have heard this a thousand times over the years from friends, relatives--even strangers. All it takes is one look at me and my mom and they can tell that we’re related. I also apparently sound like her over the phone. I’ve answered phone calls from my dad and he thinks that he’s called my mom. We also share a lot of the same mannerisms. I’ve noticed myself talking with my hands when I’m nervous, or without even thinking about it, honestly. How many times have I seen my mom do that? I clean the house vigorously before anyone comes over, which is totally a mom-ism. We also both share a love of coffee, long walks, deep conversation and Downton Abbey.

As Mother’s Day is approaching, of course, my mom is on my mind. Now that I no longer live at my parents’ home, I appreciate my mom in a whole new way. Growing up, I know I didn’t always appreciate all that my mom did for me. Doing laundry, making meals, picking me up from school—all were things I just expected because she was Mom. I was a stubborn and rebellious child, but Mom was determined to break that in me. She somehow got through my thick skull and taught me the importance of discipline. It wasn’t an easy journey. At times, I hated her for how tough she was on me. I felt like I could never get away with anything—like I was a terrible child. I felt like I could never get out of chores or homework because there was Mom, cracking the whip. But in all honesty, her diligence helped me become a strong and independent woman.

As a teenager, I leaned heavily on my mom due to my difficulties at school, church or when I started working. There were times when I blamed Mom for my problems. After all, I was just like her—too emotional, too deep, too obvious when I was upset. Quick to get angry, easily depressed. All of her flaws seemed to be mine. I treated her like my enemy, when really she was one of the only ones on my side. I don't know how she loved me through the difficult times.

But here I am today. A product of all of the hard work that my mom put into raising me to be a woman of God. She showed me how to be a good sister and daughter. She taught me what a godly wife should look like—and is still there to guide me. She shows me what motherhood should look like—helping your children to become the people that God wants them to be. God knew just the right mother to give me to raise me the way that I needed to be.

So now, when people say I’m just like my mom, I consider it the greatest compliment that I could ever receive.