Column: Mother's love a lesson in devotion

There's a reason why we celebrate moms and dads on different days of the year. Their love, though measured the same, is expressed differently.

Today I'm going to tell you the story of a mother's love.

There once lived a little boy — quiet, timid and introverted — whose family moved him away from the only home he'd ever known. The family settled in a new home, in a new area, where everyone else was a stranger to the little boy.

Gone were his friends and neighbors, his school, the world he knew.

The family moved shortly after the boy had started the second grade, and when it came time for him to attend his new school, he was terrified.

So profound was his fear that he literally shook as he and his mother waited at the end of the road for the school bus. When the big, yellow banana on wheels stopped and opened its doors, the boy struggled to step up into it.

As soon as he took his seat directly behind the driver, he began to sob uncontrollably. The school bus driver empathetically tried to console him, but it was no use.

He was in here, and his mother was out there.

The driver then opened the door and called to the boy's mother, who stepped up into the bus to try and console her son. He clung to her for safety.

Knowing the school bus needed to stay on time, the mother decided to remove him from the bus and drive him to school herself.

Keep in mind that she had three other young children, including an infant she was still nursing, plus a ranch to manage.

But the boy's mother loaded him in the car with his two younger brothers, and drove him the 10 miles or so to school.

Pulling up to the drop-off breezeway, she leaned over, and tenderly hugged and kissed her son, who was still shaking. Tears welled up and he began to sob again.

"I don't know anyone here," he cried. "I'm so afraid!"

His mom spoke with him for a few minutes, finally agreeing to walk him to his classroom with a toddler in tow and an infant in her arms.

Finding the classroom, she opened the door and the little boy stepped through. The eyes of 15 other children were suddenly upon him and he felt like bolting out the door.

But he also felt his mother's gentle, yet firm hand nudging him forward.

Just then, a very demure and kindly Japanese American lady came up to greet the boy and his mother.

"Good morning," she said with a genuinely warm smile and tender voice. "My name is Mrs. Kodera. You must be the new boy I've heard so much about!"

The boy's mother introduced herself and him.

After a moment or two of small talk, the teacher and the mother fluidly made the exchange, Mrs. Kodera's hand slipping behind the boy where mom's hand slipped out and she gently guided him to an open desk near hers.

"I will take good care of you," she assured the child.

The boy looked back at his mother and he started to panic. But Mrs. Kodera, probably a mother herself, expertly squeezed his little hand in reassurance.

He sat down reluctantly, still shaking. He turned to see his mom, who still stood in the doorway of the classroom making sure her son was settled.

The boy turned his attention to Mrs. Kodera, who was continuing her lesson. After a few moments, the boy looked back and was horrified to see his mother turning to leave.

At that, he bolted from his desk and ran crying to his mother. The scene was awkward, but at that moment, neither mother nor son seemed to care.

What mattered was mom's reassurance of her love and devotion to the child, whose fear of the unknown had fiercely gripped him.

The little boy felt alone and lost without his mother. When she was there, he felt safe and nurtured. When she wasn't, he felt vulnerable and afraid.

Mrs. Kodera approached. She asked the boy what he liked to do most.

"I like to draw," he told her in between sobs.

"Okay, then," she said with a broad smile. "Today you draw, and I will be your mom until your mother comes to pick you up in just a few hours, okay?"

A long moment passed with the boy in thought. He reluctantly agreed.

Mrs. Kodera guided him back to his desk, never taking her eyes off him, holding his hand as he watched his mother leave the classroom.

She stayed like that for a couple of minutes, speaking softly and gently to the shaken boy.

It took the rest of the week before the boy was willing to walk to the classroom without his mother. Meeting another boy, a chatty one who enjoyed one-sided conversations, helped as the pair would walk off to class together.

Two weeks would pass before the boy was able to get on the bus and go to school by himself. But he eventually did. His chatty friend happened to take the same bus to school, so time aboard the big, yellow, rolling banana seemed to pass quickly.

Mrs. Kodera was true to her word. She was like a second mother to the boy all through the school year, and he became one of her most devoted students.

To this day, I still regard Mrs. Kodera as the finest teacher I ever had or will ever have.

Today, though, is a special day set aside to honor my mother, who sacrificed so much of herself to help a frightened little boy adjust to a new life. Through my mother, I learned that change doesn't have to be so scary. It's something we all have to go through in our lives.

She taught me that even when I feel alone, I never am. Someday my mother won't be around. But she planted a seed in me that led to my salvation. I never walk alone in life, no matter the storms that come along.

Mom taught me that all storms eventually pass. They wreak havoc for a while, turn things over and make a mess. But amidst all of the chaos that storms of change bring, love remains.

Thank you, mom, for teaching me that life is nothing to be afraid of as long as there is love.