At the time that I am writing this, I am simultaneously on the phone with my 'maman,' as I call her. She is enduring a sudden hospital shift at work, but yet she finds the time to make sure to call me every 30 minutes to check on the state of the food she told me to prepare this morning, or our 'adasi.' What values exactly has she instilled in me? To avoid burning the lentils? To add enough salt? The independent, immigrant woman who I am honored to call my mother, has rarely told me what principles she hopes to pass down to me. Instead, she never fails to show me through her dedicated, precise and purposeful actions. Similar to each cup of water she has ordered me to add to the lentils, she has a reason, even if I fail to see it today. When we gather around the dinner table tonight, and we serve the 'adasi,' I will then understand why she asked me to add an extra half-cup of water earlier. As we are both women who found refuge in Islamic Iran, we haven't always been able to see eye-to-eye. Ten years later, we find ourselves still adjusting to the culture shocks of America, which has bruised our ability to easily relate to each other and converse. We have both discovered that the language barrier between us has little to do with the actual diction of the language, and more about our understanding of each other's worldly perceptions. Every night, I discover something new about my mother which she had previously considered irrelevant to mention to me. Last night, she notified me of probably the most important aspect of her character with calm and gentle ease: Over 3 decades ago, she gathered with two fathers to fight humanitarian issues in early post-revolution Iran. What is the significance of those two fathers? They are the same fathers of the two women I coincidentally work with today, to fight issues alike within our non-profit, One Education One World. Day by day I am endlessly discovering how my mother shaped me into the person I am today, regardless of if it was subconscious or unintentional. These realizations have guided me in my hopes for what I hope to instill in my children, whether that be different than the choices that my mother made, or similar ones. I am constantly reminding her of one thing when insecurity takes over her or we enter uncertain times: you are a human first, then a woman, then somebody's daughter, and finally somebody's mother. I hope to confidently know this about myself and apply it well as I pass on the recipes of motherhood.