Mother
This is May
Every year they’d wait to see Ma come to church with us knowing she would be dressed to the nines. From head to toe my little elderly but ever so spunky mother in law would never disappoint. First you’d see her hat and she would be there underneath somewhere sitting and waiting for the question, “Now let’s see who’s been a mother the longest?” before shooting out of her seat, plastic bracelets clanging as she waved her hand through the air, ready to gather her prize flowers. It was one of the few Sundays she’d go with us to church, but we’re thankful for those sweet days now but memories.
Mother’s Day
Mother’s Day comes around every second Sunday of May. It knows no boundaries. There is a great celebration and the ease of social medial allows millions to share photos filled with smiling women clasping one another’s hands and coddling new babies. Generations of women who share names and hearts gather together to enjoy their day. Facebook and instagram shares are simply beautiful. This is the hallmark of Mother’s Day. And to the naive of the world in the tenderness of life, this is May.
This is May
Say Mother to anyone and the word will conjure up instantaneous thoughts, but it doesn’t always paint a pretty picture.
Mother.
For too many people, instead of smiles the unrelenting pain of abandonment, abuse, or some other source of absence fills the motherless void. Other women fight ongoing and overwhelming regret as they secretly remember the baby, the child, the young woman and best friend that could have been had they made a different choice so many years ago. Others wonder forever what happened to end the pregnancy dashing new hopes for the baby they already loved and wanted so much . Children go to sleep in a foster family’s bed, even the best ones, wishing to be in their own home-the one they make not so bad in their head and where their mom would love them better, while a loving foster mom goes to bed praying they will always be right there. Amazing women long for children of their own yet crushingly toss single lined pregnancy tests in the trash month after month. Young moms unsure how to do this mother thing wait for a soft hug and encouraging word whispered, if only through a passing glance, from the one who matters most, “You’re doing great, my daughter.” Grandma sits alone longing to hear her grown child’s voice, but the phone stays silent another year. Soon, way before we are ready, it’s Mom’s voice gone forever. Somehow without dying themselves, mommas do the impossible as they find themselves leaving the cemetery without the one who has their heart, the one they carried, who they gave birth to and who they loved for every second of their life; the ones they remember every single day. Is there more grief than gratefulness? Is there any hope? We search for the perfect card, yet, this is May for many.
May.
Before I hit publish it will be May 17, 2018. For most of my life’s May seventeenths this would be a day filled with smiles, hugs, phone calls, visits, flowers, and chocolate chiffon cake. And my mom’s voice. But not this year, or last year and almost, but not quite, the year before. Mom got sick and for a year we prayed fervently for healing. How I wish God would have chosen to leave her with us, but that was just for selfish gain; she’s not sick anymore and she’s rejoicing with Jesus, the one she loved more than any other. I miss her so much, but especially right now! I know I’m in a long line of those who share both sweet memories and painful tears, because she loved us so. I’d like to say it is because of how much I loved her, and I did, but the pain of missing her is a selfish pain and truly because of how she loved me so well. One day before Mother’s Day and just one week before her 75th birthday God healed her tired and sick body and called her home on May 9, 2015. I try to live every day loving my family more, serving my Savior better and honoring the memory and legacy of my godly, amazing mom, because that’s what she did even through her own grief and pain. Maybe I’ll even have a piece of chocolate cake today.
I’m trying, Mom.
For me, this is May.
I yearn for my mom. I miss her in every way. I miss her prayers for me, and I long for a time no more. Recently I had to ask myself if I have the same longing and yearning to love and follow the Lord. No excuses, I know what it’s like to really desire someone’s presence in my life and I know how to love…
This world is broken and sick. Our only hope is found in Christ. The world will continue to hurt us and disappoint us. We may make choices we wish we could undo but can’t. There will be times we pray for answers, but they won’t come like we’d hoped. And it will hurt. Yet God is trustworthy and His love is perfect. He has made a way for redemption where we see hopelessness.
When we break a bone we head to the doctor who heals us by resetting and casting our break. Does your heart hurt, has it been broken? You’re not alone. There is hope! Our doctors can’t heal a broken heart, but God can.
Psalm 147:3 He heals the brokenhearted And binds up their wounds.
Psalm 34:18 The LORD is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.
