My mother was the dearest, sweetest angel. She didn't talk; she sang. She was a tower of strength.

Steve is very quiet, even shy. I am very gregarious. So, opposites.

Her favorite role was being a mother and a grandmother.

All that I am or ever will be, I owe to my angel mother

The LORD is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust; my buckler, and the horn of my salvation, and my high tower. I will call upon the LORD, who is worthy to be praised: so shall I be saved from mine enemies.

I’ve noticed in my life that the people who act as my angels are not some strange angelic creatures that seem almost untouchable, but are more real than that. They are people who have tasted sorrow, who have felt pain, and in a way, that makes them capable of being an angel. In their darkest moments they have become strong.