Growing up, my mom was the one constant in a world that often felt messy and confusing.

She had this quiet strength about her, a patience that I definitely didn’t appreciate as much as I should have when I was younger.

My brother and I? We pushed her to her limits plenty of times, probably more than plenty. But no matter how far we tested her patience, she predominantly came back with wisdom that stuck, even when I didn’t want to hear it.

Although there were those other times, I may share those stories another day. But I digress.

One of those lessons still stands out as the most valuable gift she ever gave me. It came during my teenage years, which were, let’s just say, full of anger and a solid dose of rebellion.

My parents divorced when I was a baby. I didn’t grow up knowing what it was like to have two parents under the same roof, but I absolutely knew what it felt like to be angry with one of them.

My dad had left and to my young mind, that meant he didn’t care about me or my brother. That pain? It turned into this fiery resentment, and I wasn’t shy about showing it.

I can still picture the mustard-yellow phone on the kitchen wall, the one with the cord so long it could stretch halfway across the house.

My dad would call from whatever state he was living in at that time, my brother would answer, and then he’d holler for me to pick up. Every time, I’d yell back, “I’m not talking to him!”

One day, my mom came into my bedroom and asked, “Why won’t you talk to him?”

Without hesitation, I shot back, “Because I hate him.”

Now, if anyone had a reason to hate my dad, it was her. But she didn’t agree. She didn’t fuel my fire.

Instead, she said something that completely caught me off guard:

“I see. But if it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have you or your brother.”

Then she added, “When you hate someone, it shows how much you care about them and how much you’re hurting. Hate is just pain in disguise.”

At the time, I rolled my eyes. I didn’t want to hear it. I thought she was wrong, and I honestly thought she was weak for not sharing my anger. But now as an adult, I see her strength in that moment. She wasn’t weak — she was brave.

Brave enough to see the good that came out of a painful situation. Brave enough to remind me that holding onto hate only keeps you tied to the hurt.

That advice shaped me in ways I couldn’t have imagined. It taught me that even in the hardest experiences, there’s room for growth, beauty and healing.

So, as we enter this season of gratitude, I’m holding onto this lesson and sharing it with you.

When you catch yourself saying you “hate” someone, or even yourself, take a step back. Ask yourself what’s really going on. And when you reflect on something painful from your past, see if you can shift the story to find the good that came out of it.

For me, this lesson from my mom will always be one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever received.

Now it’s your turn: What’s the best advice your mom ever gave you? I’d love to hear it. Let’s celebrate those little nuggets of wisdom and carry them forward. After all, ’tis the season.

And to the reader who inspired this article from the stories he shared of his mother, thank you.

Mother, author, entrepreneur and founder of Dandelion-Inc, Lisa Resnick wants to hear your story. Share memories with her by emailing lisa@

dandelion-inc.com.