This Mother’s Day

This Mother’s Day might be joyous: perhaps you are a new father, amazed by the mystery of those sweeping waves of unconditional love towards your new little one; stunned by the raw miracle of birth and the blossoming motherhood that you glimpse unfolding in your wife; it is your chief delight to honor her.

Maybe you are grateful to be graced with a kind and tender mother, not perfect, but deeply good.

Or you are now a middle aged mother, blessed by children grown, sons and daughters who have flown the nest, but still call you and text you and open wide their adult lives. Your heart is flooded with love, and it is your primary delight to serve them, still.

Or perhaps you are a grandmother, full of gray hair and smiles, fashioning notes and gifts, praying and delighting in those young lives birthed through your own children. Mother’s Day seems a crown of glory.

Mother’s Day might also throb: you have buried a son or daughter and your grief is torturous, or your medical chart has been stamped in red ink: unable to conceive, or miscarriages have haunted you, repeatedly. As a husband, you are stuck; terribly helpless, longing to comfort your wife while also wishing this very day would pass, and quickly.

Or you are a single woman longing to marry, desirous of children, but so far, nothing. Or you are a child who has been maimed by your very own mother, who is supposed to love you most. Or you are an aging mother wrapped in selfishness, simmering that you are not being served by your adult children in the manner you feel you deserve.

Perhaps you are a single mother surrounded by little grabbing hands, and instead of counting blessings you are depleted, tired, over it.

You are a mother burning with regret: you have abandoned or abused or neglected your children, or have chosen abortion, or have stubbornly refused to repent of your sin, remaining stuck on the merry-go-round of worldly sorrow that leads to death, rather than living godly grief which produces repentance that leads to salvation without regret (2 Corinthians 7:10).

My guess is that in this messy life, many are experiencing a measure of both joy and grief this Mother’s Day week.

I invite you to slow yourself, and cradle this coming Sunday in your hands as a pure treasure; an opportunity to allow your heart’s posture to bend as your yes to God. Let it be to me according to your word. (Luke 1:38).

Refresh your weary mind with Lamentations 3:22-24. Our world is turned upside down with much foolishness, but God’s Word always remains right side up; a razor-sharp, straight edge; an imperishable anchor that steadies and holds us fast.

On this Mother’s Day, remember that God is kind and merciful. There is no grief he cannot carry, no sin he refuses to forgive. Carve out some time to preach the Good News of the gospel to your weary heart.

Come to him and find rest (Matthew 11:28).

The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. “The LORD is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.” Lamentations 3:22-24