As is the case every year now, Mother’s Day is bittersweet. I feel the intense joy of having my children safe and forever in our home along with the acute pain of knowing there is another mama out there who won’t be spending this day with them. Who clings to pictures because it’s all she has. She doesn’t know what their little voices sound like. She doesn’t know what their pudgy hands feel like in hers. She won’t get to hear “I loves you, Mama” from our two children today.
And yet, the day they were born, they came into this world with a preference already built in – not for me, but for her - her voice, her smell, her touch. They bear her likeness, not mine. They inherited bits of her personality. She is their mother every bit as much as I in spite of the circumstances we all find ourselves in today.
So today, while my children honor me, I want to spend some time and honor her. Through tears, with prayers, I declare this woman who gave my children life BLESSED. I name her BELOVED. I call her FORGIVEN. I pray with all my heart that one day she believes those very things about herself. Above all else, I pray that some day in the future, my children can celebrate Mother’s Day with both of us. What a unique privilege for me to be a part of this story – my story, her story, our children’s story – God’s story. Redemption is coming. I believe it with all my soul.