This past week, my mother turned 80 years old. I cannot begin to measure the blessing that she is in my life. Every good thing I have is connected to her love, her sacrifices, and her unwavering devotion to our family. My mom has never sought the spotlight. She is a quiet, humble hero who has spent her life giving, nurturing, and guiding with grace.

When I was a little boy and refused to nap, my mom didn’t get frustrated. Instead, she created something special. She would read to me from Golden Books, Hardy Boys, and countless other stories. Those afternoons are stitched into my heart. My love of reading, my love of stories, and my passion for learning began with her voice.

I remember riding in our family station wagon during our years in Carson, California, with the AM radio as our constant companion. One day, Harry Nilsson’s “Coconut” came on. I laughed and proclaimed that the doctor’s cure was making him sick. My mom just smiled, a smile that told me she was delighted by my joy and imagination.

I remember the fall day she surprised me after kindergarten at Annalee Avenue School. We walked home together, crunching leaves on the sidewalk, each step a simple but unforgettable gift.

When nightmares came, she found a way to comfort me by putting on a Mister Rogers record at bedtime so his voice could soothe me to sleep.

We laughed together through episodes of “WKRP in Cincinnati,” “I Love Lucy,” and The Bob Newhart Show.” I remember her joy when she welcomed my wife into our family. I remember the look of bliss on her face as she held each of my daughters when they were newborns, her eyes shining with love for them before they even knew the world.

Mom makes the best macaroni and cheese on earth. There is no contest. She also gave me one of the greatest gifts of all: music. From Dave Brubeck and Mose Allison to Bobby Darin and Sergio Mendes, she opened my ears to beauty. As a kid, I used to resist her favorites: Barry Manilow, The Bee Gees, The Carpenters, Roberta Flack. Now, I embrace those artists, because when I hear their songs, I hear my mom.

More than anything, my mom gave us faith. She taught me the power of prayer, the strength of humility, and the courage to keep going. Even now, we share our prayer of thanks for each other that dates back to my childhood:

“Thank God for Sean.”

“Thank God for my Mom.”

There are so many things my mother has given me. There are so many that they are infinite and lasting. My gratitude for her is infinite and lasting, too.

My mother is a gift from God. Her kindness, love, and devotion have shaped not just my life, but the lives of everyone she touches from my father to my siblings. The world is better because she is here.

Happy 80th Birthday, Mom. I love you more than words can say. And as the years keep turning, like the grooves on a treasured record, may her song of love play on forever.