I USED to think that I was better off than my mother. I have things she never had. I have shelves of books on marriage and motherhood, while she relied on instinct and the wisdom of her own mother. I have gadgets that save me time, while she has only her hands and endless chores.
I have a washing machine that hums away while I sip coffee or play with my children. She had mornings spent scrubbing clothes by hand, fetching water from the pump, and waxing floors with melted candles. My “exercise” happens at the gym; hers was built into survival.
I can serve a variety of dishes in minutes, thanks to my double burner, microwave, and refrigerator. She cooked over firewood, eyes stinging from smoke, and served whatever fresh ingredients she carried home from the market at dawn. Her meals were simple, but they were always nourishing. Mine are more varied, but sometimes rushed.
I can sew fancy dresses for my daughters with an electric machine and a stack of craft books. She stitched by hand for seven children, mending more than creating, crocheting from imagination rather than patterns. I have Pinterest boards and glossy magazines; she had creativity born of necessity.
I scroll through emails, posts, and memes. She tuned into the radio, carefully recharging batteries on the windowsill so she wouldn’t miss the news. I have endless channels of information, but sometimes too much noise. She had fewer choices, but perhaps more peace.
Yes, I am busier. I juggle deadlines, notifications, and appointments. She didn’t have emails to answer or memes to keep up with. She didn’t need a masseur to relieve stress. She had her own rhythm, her own quiet strength.
So yes, I am “better.” Better equipped, better informed, better connected. But here’s the truth: my mother’s days were harder, yet she found joy in simplicity. She didn’t have gadgets, but she had grit. She didn’t have convenience, but she had contentment.
And that is why I honor her. Because while I may have more, she taught me that satisfaction doesn’t come from abundance—it comes from grace. As a saying reminds me, “Better a little with the fear of the Lord than great wealth with turmoil” (Proverbs 15:16). My mother lived that truth without quoting it. She showed me that peace is not found in possessions but in faith and perseverance.
When I look back, I realize that every generation has its own kind of “better.” My mother’s generation was better at patience, endurance, and making do with little. My generation is better at efficiency, multitasking, and accessing knowledge. But neither is superior. We are simply different, shaped by the times we live in.
Her world was slower, but it allowed her to savor moments. Mine is faster, but it pushes me to chase opportunities. She found joy in the rhythm of ordinary days; I find joy in the variety of modern life. Both are valid. Both are beautiful.
So perhaps the question is not “Why am I better than my mother?” but “How am I blessed because of her?” My conveniences are built on her sacrifices. My abundance is rooted in her simplicity. My freedom to choose is a gift from her resilience.
God bless our mothers, who lived with less yet gave us more.
Ruth Sitchon Morales is a full-time instructor at a state university in Mindanao, specializing in foreign language education. She is a resource speaker, freelance writer, and textbook author, and is currently pursuing doctoral studies in applied linguistics. Along with her husband and their three children, Ruth served as a cross-cultural worker and as an ESL teacher and in China, Malaysia, Thailand, and Africa. Her formal studies in foreign languages, enriched by immersion in diverse foreign and local cultures, have given her a broad perspective on life and a wealth of stories to share with her readers.
