PHOTO PROVIDED Pictured, from left, are Hunter, Westin, Josh and Christy Smith, together at dinner on a recent trip to Central America.

Being a mother, it seems to me, is one of the most formidable roles anyone can take on. In a world full of uncertainty, pressure and conflict, the ability of mothers — across all kinds of circumstances — to raise good, kind, ethical and responsible human beings is nothing short of remarkable.

Maybe, as the great American poet and mother Maya Angelou once said, it comes down to love.

“Love may be the matter that keeps the stars in the firmament. It may be,” she said. “Love allows you to be tough and tender.”

In that interview with Diane Sawyer, Angelou was speaking of her own mother, but she was also speaking of yours, and of mine.

Much like her longtime favorite sitcom character, Roseanne Conner, my mom is equal parts tender and tough. A bartender for much of my life, she’s quick with a quip and even faster with a scolding — when it’s deserved — as any bar patron or unlucky soul who crosses her can tell you. Roseanne, she always said, reminded her of her own mother, Susan — my Grammy Sue — who I’ll also be remembering this Mother’s Day.

Like them both, my mom faces life’s hardships with a sharp tongue and a soft heart. She tells it like it is. She doesn’t flinch in the face of difficulty. She meets it head-on, usually with a one-liner and a lot of grit.

There were times when I’d given up — on a problem, on myself, on something I couldn’t quite name. My mom, not always one for pep talks or long speeches, just pointed her finger, pulled a ridiculous face and waited. And I laughed. Every time. Even when it wasn’t really all that funny.

Somehow, her silliness had a way of breaking through the fog. Of reminding me that if she wasn’t giving up on me, maybe I shouldn’t either.

Christy, my mom, is fond of reminding my brothers and me that every challenge we’ve faced, we’ve lived through so far — and she says it with the kind of certainty only someone who’s seen plenty of challenges herself can have. It’s not just comfort. It’s proof.

It’s been said that mothers can look through a child’s eyes and see tomorrow. That must be true, because no matter how many worries she carried, my mom never stood in the way of my dreams, even when they took me to the far flung corners of the Earth. Whether I was interning in Westminster Palace or conducting interviews on the Russian border, she would grit her teeth, give me a long hug at the airport and let me go — not because she wasn’t afraid, but because she believed in me. Because she’s always believed in me.

I owe many of my successes in life to that quiet, unwavering belief.

Being a mom is not just something you are — it’s something you do. And it’s not easy. For more reasons than I can count, I don’t think I could be half the parent she is.

To borrow the words of Oscar Wilde, “All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That’s his.”

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. Thank you for everything you do.

— — — —

Hunter Smith is a staff reporter for The Express.