I remember what it’s like wishing I could sleep through Mother’s Day. I remember what it felt like to know that I was a mother deep in my heart and yet I did not have the children to prove it. Bareness and dreams miscarried, a heavy heart with empty arms, I was doing my best to fake a smile. The safest place within me to carry a baby was my war-zone. Doctor’s visits and testing dates littered my calendar instead of playmates and first haircuts. I remember the ache when I saw flowers in every shade of pink and paper cards with sloppy handwriting in crayon. They were masterpieces in my mind and of more value than a five-dollar card. I longed for sloppy kisses and a baby on my hip.
Dear sister, I remember…so I whisper prayers and know that they will reach heaven for you. You are not forgotten, the love of God will cradle you during your loss.
Gone are the days where I dread this day set aside, yet my heart hurts for those with broken relationships making it hard to pick out cards because the mother/child relationship limps and is fractured. My heart hurts for those with an empty seat around the family table from death that took their precious child away from them much too soon. My heart hurts for the friend who just lost her mother and this is her first Mother’s Day without her best-friend.
Even though I celebrate and rejoice for ten years of being a mother, I cannot forget my sisters who ache deeply and would rather skip this weekend entirely. I’ve been there. God met with me there. My arms were empty but His arms were strong enough to carry me through it. My strength and faith deepened during that time where my body was so frail. I’m grateful for the heartache I have felt because I love deeper and feel like every day, even the messy ones, is a gift.
“He raise the poor out of the dust, and lifts the needy out of the ash heap, that He may seat him with the princes- with the princes of His people. He grants the barren woman a home, like the joyful mother of children. Praise The Lord.” (Ps 113: 7-9)
You are not forgotten, I remember what it’s like when Mother’s Day hurts. I’m praying for you to be lifted out of the ashes of grief as God mends your broken heart. May joy be restored to you. You are loved.
“Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” (Ps 30:5)