Dear friends,
Mother’s Day…it’s both beautiful and hard.
Before getting pregnant with our oldest, we went through years of infertility treatments and multiple miscarriages. Mother’s day definitely did not feel like a day to be celebrated. Instead, it felt like a day that pointed out my “inability” to become what I so desperately desired to be…a mother.
But then, by the grace of God, I did become pregnant and Mother’s Day, the day that had previously felt so heavy to me, suddenly was overflowing with joy! I felt like I “fit in” on this holiday…something I longed for. What a glorious day it was!
However, after losing my mom suddenly in 2012, Mother’s day quickly became, once again, a day that was excruciatingly painful…even unbearable some years. I was no longer able to celebrate this day. It seemed like everywhere I looked, there were grandmas holding their grandbabies. Mothers and daughters laughing together. Love…Joy…Everywhere. I had such a huge void and it felt like everywhere I went, that void was amplified with the Mother’s Day cards, advertisements, flowers…all things Mother’s Day.
However, I have realized that just because something is hard does not mean that it is not worth celebrating. I am RECLAIMING Mother’s Day. I am not going to allow the enemy to steal my joy on this day anymore.
Not one.more.year.
Despite the loss, I will still celebrate. I will celebrate my 3 babies who I never got to hold but believe I will one day. I will celebrate my mother who was truly the best mom ever. She loved to laugh. She was honorable. She loved the Lord and her family so fiercely. I would not be the wife, woman, or mother I am today if it were not for her.
And I will celebrate the fact that I am a mother. You see those 4 little pairs of shoes in the picture above? Those little people are mine. I have four beautiful children who call me mama and I have the privilege of loving them every single day.
But to you, sweet friend, who is feeling the heaviness of Mother’s Day this year…
I see you.
I see the pain, I see the longing. I see the loss and the sadness. You are not forgotten. You are not ignored. You are not unseen. And I’m praying for you. I may not even know your story, but I am still praying for you. I’m praying that you find joy even in the hard. Even in the moments that feel so heavy that you can’t move, I pray that you find a peace that passes understanding and, dare I say, even joy.
