One church. One Mother's Day.
"All you children stand up and face your mothers. All together now repeat after me, 'I love you, Mom.'"
Another church. Another Mother's Day.
"All you grandmothers stand up. All you moms stand up. Now the rest of you women stand up. Because if you're not a mother in the physical sense, you are a mom in the spiritual sense."
Sorry, Pastor. That does not help when you are racked with new and even aging grief. In time, maybe. In time.
And that is why for so many years I avoided church on Mother's Day.
And why I still hurt for those with barren wombs and empty arms on Mother's Day.
And sometimes wonder if it's not best to to erase Mother's Day from the calendar--and honor our own mothers every day.
And so this weekend, for those who suffer, I think of you, my sisters. And I hold you up before the One who knows.
I know.
It's Mother's Day.
I know the burning in your breast
The throbbing chest ready to explode
The aching arms
The tightened throat, choking
The dammed tears
And then the flood.
I know the heartbreak
That follows month after month of scientific love
And manufactured methods.
And then the exhilaration of success
And the devastation of loss.
Fruitless.
I don't know your path of healing
But it will come in time
In some form
And the pain will subside
Somewhat
Leaving an occasional familiar twinge
A thorn.
It's Mother's Day.
And you hurt.
I know.
He knows.
"If your heart is broken, you'll find God right there; if you're kicked in the gut, he'll help you catch your breath." Psalm 34:18 (Message)
Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Heska King
