As Mothers’ Day dawns, bright flowers and sticky painted hand prints will shower the women who get to be called “Mom.” In this 24-7-365 kind of job, this day is set aside to say thanks for the late night feedings, the story-time snugglings, and the driving from here to there. These hearts may feel tired or weary or discouraged, but the love lavished upon them from those sweet, chubby faces will give them new strength to do all that comes with the privilege of muddy footprints, Legos in foot, and piles and piles of laundry.
With all the joys that come with this Sunday, I know there are just as many hearts with wounds salted deep by the imposition of this day. There are souls aching for mothers passed on, tears spilled over empty wombs, and pangs of grief from arms where a child last slept.
On this day of thankfulness for what God gave us in motherhood, may joy flow in each embrace of your little ones; may hope soar to each waiting cradle, and peace blanket each knee bent graveside.
|Me and my Mom|
|You made me a mommy|
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