“Her death the dividing mark: Before and After,” writes Theo about his mother in Donna Tart’s The Goldfinch. “Things would have turned out better if she had lived. When I lost sight of her I lost sight of any landmark that might have led me someplace happier, to some more populated or congenial life.”
Life is heavy. Life is hard. Life is also incredibly busy. With the responsibilities of being a husband, the father of five, and a pastor, I don’t have much time to sit and reflect on the grief and pain within my heart. I believe this is a mercy from God because I would probably fall into despair if I spent all my time reflecting on the good old days, focusing on what I don’t have, and lamenting the death of my birth mom and my adopted mom. But I do think of them often. Whenever I fold a towel her way, make an omelet just like she taught me, wash dishes using “elbow grease,” or listen to her favorite country station, I’m reminded of Mom’s influence in my life. It’s always the little things that catch me off guard—a picture, an old friend, a familiar place.
While waiting in the airport by myself earlier this year and observing a busy grandmother help her adult daughter with the children caused my eyes to well up with tears. Seeing multiple generations worship together in church reminds me of what I no longer have. Making plans with my wife’s mother makes me sad because I so long to make plans with mine. On vacation a few weeks ago in the Outer Banks of North Carolina, I observed a grandmother drop her teenage granddaughter off at her job at an ice cream shop. Before starting her shift, the granddaughter brought an ice cream cone out to her grandmother in the car. This precious exchange caused me to lament the reality that my mom will not know my kids as teens—she missed out on seeing them grow up and they will miss out on her love and influence during this pivotal time in their lives. And I will never get to see her grow old.
In all of these scenarios, the bitter reality of separation is reinforced in my mind, and my heart pines for the way things were and the way things could have been, dare I even say the way things should be. Deep down inside I feel as though I have been cheated and robbed. And as time goes by, it remains painful. It remains surreal. I am still in shock. I still have questions. I still feel angry. I still cry. Grief doesn’t go away. Like a scar, it remains. And the raw flesh opens up often. There is no closure.
Do you dread Mother’s Day? Is it something you struggle with? Does the thought of it bring negative feelings? It’s definitely a tough one for me. Although there is much to celebrate and be thankful for, it can trigger sorrow and disappointment. Seeing others celebrate with their mothers only intensifies my grief. As a pastor, I can’t emotionally handle (at least for now) standing in front of my congregation, discussing the holiday, and acknowledging mothers. Someone else will do that.
And I know I’m not the only one. Mother’s Day can be emotional for women, mothers, and children. The past or present circumstances of your life can make you feel excluded, marginalized, or just hurt. The bigger reality reveals that sin and death have ravaged our world bringing disappointment, separation, and conflict. Our lives mirror the world we live in. We are ruined and broken and fractured here.
This holiday can be difficult for those who are single and long for motherhood, those who are single and raising their children alone, those who are struggling with the heartache of infertility, those who’ve experienced the sting of a miscarriage, those daughters and sons who are estranged from their birth mothers, those who’ve lost their mothers, or mothers who’ve lost a child or lost contact with a child due to conflict. I anticipate Mother’s Day being hard for my adopted daughters in the future as they start to wonder about their birth moms.
So, it might be a complicated holiday for you as you attempt to navigate through the emotional landmines of nostalgia, grief, lament, and heartache while most others around you are surrounded by their family and celebrating. Yet mothers should still be honored for their unique calling to and faithfulness in bearing and raising children. For it is a monumental task. In the midst of tears, we still can—and should—celebrate with others God’s good gift of mothers. Each of us has a mother who brought us into this world.
I’m thankful for the time I had with my mom, for her lasting influence in my life, that we were reconciled, for the time my children had with her, for the wonderful mother my children have, for my adopted daughters’ birth mothers wherever they are, and that one day we will all be reunited. Let us thank God for our mothers and honor them for giving us the invaluable gift of life.
So, whether you are a mother, grandmother, mother-in-law, step-mother, foster mom, adoptive mom, bereaved mother, estranged mother, expectant or future mother—I want to recognize you on this Mother’s Day. Thank you for choosing life, nurturing your children, and raising them in the Lord. I know children are equally exhausting as they are endearing and motherhood is equally wearing as it is wonderful.
Being a mother is a high calling, but it’s not the highest calling. Rather, being a child of God and a disciple of Jesus Christ is. Yet being a mother is an integral part of being a disciple as you seek to influence your children, teens, adult children, and grandchildren with the life-changing truth found in God’s Word. Wherever your children are today, press on. Continue in your faithful care of them. Pray for them. Depend on the Lord. Trust him in the hard times. Never give up. Never lose hope. May the Lord continue to grant you strength and wisdom, patience and kindness, grace and mercy. Don’t ever take your time together for granted. Remember that every conversation, every interaction is precious, and could very well be your last one. You rarely see it coming.
And for those of you who find yourself in my shoes this Mother’s Day . . . whether you feel personally excluded, marginalized, or simply hurt and heartbroken—lift up your head. Remember your own mother’s love and care; and continue to live your life in light of her influence. Instead of longing for the things that once were and the things that could have been, let’s recalibrate our hearts to long for the things that actually will be. This eternal perspective/reality saturates our heartache in hope. In this world, we will have heartache, but when it is wed with hope, bitter sorrow can also be sweet expectation.
In my grief, I do have real peace and hope because of Christ. Because we live between the already and the not yet—between the world that was and the world that will be—we will always have underlying feelings of disappointment and longing. God is making all things new, therefore the broken heart in a fractured world has the unique capacity to experience opposite emotions simultaneously. We can feel both grief and joy. We can experience both nostalgia and hope. We can be both broken and unbroken. We can be still and know.
Mother’s Day will be emotional and hard. But, if I’m honest, so is every day. This day is particularly hard because the bitter realities are reinforced when we see others celebrating in a way we can’t. Don’t let others’ joy rob you of your own. Let’s not write Mother’s Day off altogether. It’s okay to grieve and lament. And it’s also okay to celebrate. God takes away, yes, but he also gave, and he also continues to give. So whether they are present now or not, let’s give thanks for his good gift of mothers.
These words from Proverbs 31 are written on my birth mother’s headstone: “Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her. Give her the fruit of her hands, And let her works praise her in the gates.”
Maximum Mandatum 