It pierced me because we all knew exactly what she meant.
Mama was never a shield made of iron or physical strength \u2014 she was a praying shield, a force, an intercessor, a woman whose voice stood before God on behalf of every one of us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She guarded us not with hands, but with rosaries.
Not with weapons, but with Psalms.
Not with warnings, but with prayers said at dawn, at noon, and long after the world had stopped praying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Growing up, everything in our lives had one instruction:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCall Mama.\u201d
\u201cMama, pray for me.\u201d
\u201cMama, I\u2019m afraid.\u201d
\u201cMama, something happened.\u201d
\u201cMama, I am so angry.\u201d
\u201cMama, please just pray.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We all leaned on her \u2014 every grandchild.
And nothing showed this more than the night my sister fell seriously ill.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She came home one evening complaining of stomach pain. Instead of going to the hospital we trusted, she went to a small clinic nearby. They didn\u2019t know her medical history, so they gave her something that triggered a severe reaction.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
By 11 p.m., she couldn\u2019t stand, couldn\u2019t sleep, couldn\u2019t even lie still.
My mother rushed us to the hospital.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The moment we arrived, the room shifted.
Fear entered quietly, but fully.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Doctors spoke in clipped, urgent tones.
Nurses moved sharply from one corner to another.
Machines beeped.
My mother\u2019s hands trembled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And then the words:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHer appendix has ruptured. She needs emergency surgery.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Fear rose like smoke.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMama,\u201d my mother whispered. \u201cCall Mama.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I dialled immediately \u2014 rushing my words, stumbling over sentences, talking to the one person who always knew what to do when the rest of us didn\u2019t know how to pray.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mama didn\u2019t panic. \u201cPut the phone to her ear.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n My sister was already sedated, slipping in and out of consciousness \u2014 but Mama didn\u2019t wait.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She began to pray:<\/p>\n\n\n\n Hail Mary\u2026<\/em> Then her usual string of Psalms<\/strong>, jumping effortlessly from verse to verse, forming a perfect prayer that always fit the moment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The Memorare.<\/em> Then, with the tenderness of a mother offering comfort to a child, she said:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHoly Mary, Mother of God, pray for us\u2026\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n We didn\u2019t pray. And then came the moment none of us will ever forget.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My sister \u2014 under anaesthesia, still refusing to open her eyes long after she should have been awake \u2014 suddenly began to sing Salve Regina<\/em>\u2026 It was a stunning sight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Loud. A nurse asked, \u201cWho is singing in there?\u201d A doctor \u2014 who was not Christian \u2014 waited until she finished. Finally she drifted back into sleep, but not before we all looked at one another \u2014 half laughing, half confused. She was loud. We knew the truth:<\/p>\n\n\n\n That was Mama.<\/strong> This was how she lived. We called her for everything:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMama, pray \u2014 I have an exam.\u201d She made us understand that life is not sustained by human strength alone. So yes \u2014 when my sister said \u201cOur shield is gone,\u201d<\/em> she meant the woman who prayed without resting. And without her voice on the other end of the phone, we felt \u2014 and still feel \u2014 exposed. How will we ever do this like Mama?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n But then I remembered something she once told me:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cChildren think prayer is a chore before God. And this morning, that truth returned like sunlight breaking through clouds:<\/p>\n\n\n\n Maybe our shield is not gone. On earth, Mama prayed with limitations \u2014 with breath, with time, with distance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But now?<\/p>\n\n\n\n She stands before God. She is not just a shield anymore. A shield protects from the front. Mama no longer answers the phone \u2014 She no longer sits on a pew praying for us \u2014 She no longer whispers our names \u2014 So yes, my sister said:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOur shield is gone.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n But tonight, with a quiet certainty, I know something deeper:<\/p>\n\n\n\n Our shield has become a fortress. With love and memory,<\/p>\n\n\n\n PS: If you want to follow the complete series of Alice The Matriarch, you can find it below:<\/p>\n\n\n\n Day 1 \u2013 Where My Story Truly Begins \u2013 Ol\u00fa Ab\u00edk\u00f3y\u00e8<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n DAY 2 \u2014 When Mama Told Me to Walk \u2013 Ol\u00fa Ab\u00edk\u00f3y\u00e8<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n DAY 3 \u2014 When Two Depart, but Not Away \u2013 Ol\u00fa Ab\u00edk\u00f3y\u00e8<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n
She didn\u2019t cry.
She didn\u2019t ask for medical details.
She simply said:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Our Father\u2026<\/em>
Glory be\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n
St. Michael the Archangel.<\/em>
And of course \u2014 the reliable helper in every difficult case \u2014 St. Jude.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n
We couldn\u2019t pray.
Mama prayed for all of us \u2014 like she did every single time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
and then slipped into Ave Maria.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n
Clear.
Stronger than anything expected from someone unconscious.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Another whispered, \u201cIs that the girl from surgery?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She didn\u2019t finish for a long while.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And me? I grabbed my phone quickly to record the whole thing before she later said, \u201cIt never happened.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her voice was beautiful.
And no one dared to stop her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her intercession covering her grandchild in a way medicine could not explain.
Her faith reaching across distance.
Her voice piercing through anesthesia.
Her spirit touching a child who couldn\u2019t even speak for herself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This was how she loved.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMama, pray \u2014 I\u2019m travelling.\u201d
\u201cMama, pray \u2014 I\u2019m afraid.\u201d
\u201cMama, pray \u2014 I\u2019m sad.\u201d
\u201cMama, pray \u2014 something good happened.\u201d
\u201cMama, please thank God with me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Every victory, every healing, every joy, every breath \u2014 all of it was divine providence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The woman who prayed storms into silence.
The woman who prayed sickness into retreat.
The woman who prayed fear into courage.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Naked.
Vulnerable.
Like we must now learn to pray for ourselves.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But prayer is just that honest conversation \u2014
say it as you feel it,
cry if you must,
praise Him like you would a loved one,
reverence Him like a King,
and sulk if you must.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n
Maybe she has simply changed position.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n
She sees clearly.
She loves completely.
She intercedes without exhaustion or sleep.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She is a fortress<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A fortress surrounds on every side.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
but she hears us in the silence of prayer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
she stands in the presence of God Himself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
she presents them before Heaven.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And though unseen, she is closer than she ever was.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/oluabikoye.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/01\/image-1.png\")
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