My BASM (Bad Ass Spiritual Mama)

She’s unlike any other I’ve ever known. You should know her. We first met when I was in my early 40s, a time when I believed I was in my prime—back when my knees didn’t make noises and I could eat bread without consequences. She was the gift I never knew I’d need, the kind of friend who would carry me through the biggest storm of my life. And let me tell you, she did it with the patience of a saint and the sharpness of a drill sergeant who also makes me laugh harder than I’ve ever known I could.

She lives in my neighborhood and has a “prayer room.” Now, I’ve been in that room more times than I can count, and let me tell you, I’ve been ripped apart and sewn back together in there like an old quilt at a church sewing circle. Without her, I don’t know where I’d be today—possibly hiding in my pantry with a family-size bag of M&Ms, whispering “Jesus, take the wheel.”

Over the years, I started jotting down the sacred things she’s said to me. Not because I’m sentimental (though I totally am), but because her words became my survival manual. Of course, God’s word is paramount, but sometimes, you just need someone “with skin on” to say it in a way that makes you snap out of your self-pity spiral and straighten up. She was that vessel, and believe me, she had no problem delivering a holy wake-up call when necessary.

But today, my BASM (Best Advisor, Spiritual Mentor, and all-around Life GPS) needs healing of her own. She’s in the hospital, waiting for brain surgery on Monday. So if you’re a praying person, please send one up for my BASM. She’s carried me through so many storms; now it’s our turn to help carry her.

And if you want to know more about what she’s taught me over the years—lessons that have kept me (mostly) sane and (occasionally) wise—join the blog. Because everyone needs a BASM in their life. Trust me on this.