As I get older, it has gotten harder to celebrate Mother's Day. So I stay silent. In public spaces, I mean. Of course, I celebrate my mother and all of the strong mothers around me, but the day is a profound reminder of the things that I thought I would have by now and don't.
I chose not to say anything on Mother's Day because that is unfair to all of the celebrants. Also, I didn't want to appear ungrateful to the people that wished my a "Happy Mothering Day" because of the mothering I do for so many, or a "Happy God-mother's Day" because of my god-children. I appreciate all of that I do.
But it's difficult for me you see...When I was in my 20s, I KNEW (without question) that was going to be a mother. Biological. I knew I would nurture life within me and raise two or three little ones. I'm in my 40s now and that just isn't my reality.
And while I am grateful for the many blessings God has given me, I would be lying if I pretended that I don't shake my fist in God's face from time to time about being childless.
For me, it was not a choice...at least not my ideal choice. I can physically have a child, but without a husband (and yes, I absolutely have to have one if I am going to bring a child into this world), it is not the path for me. God has not ordained biological motherhood to be path for me.
There are days when I am ever so grateful that I do not have kids. During this pandemic, for instance. I cannot even imagine how I would cope.
But then, I see posts from my peers of pregnant bellies and sonograms, pictures of newborns and toddlers, shouts of "Congratulations" to high school graduates, even mentions of grand-children...and it all makes me want to fight the air.
Mother's Day is hard on some of us. We are childless by circumstance or medical malady. We have suffered miscarriages. We have aborted children. We have given up children for adoption. We have had stillbirths. We have brought children into this world, but had them taken from us in one way or another. We are estranged from our children. We are estranged from our mothers. We have lost our mothers. Whatever the reason, it is hard.
Don't get me wrong. We should absolutely keep celebrating the mothers God has placed in our lives. But maybe be gracious to those of us who are struggling to accept His divine will for our lives, especially when it does not look like what we had planned.
And for heaven's sake, don't be an Elkanah. Elkanah is the husband of Hannah in the Bible. Hannah was a barren woman, but Elkanah loved her so much. In a particularly difficult moment for Hannah, Elkanah basically tells her that he is worth 10 sons. The Bible doesn't record Hannah's exact reaction, but I am pretty sure she was not amused. So please don't ply us with trite platitudes, thinking (or hoping) that a few words will ease the pain and fill the void we are experiencing.
For the women out there for whom Mother's Day is particularly hard, I just want to say I see you. I feel your pain. And my prayers are with you. I pray for grace to accept the will of God and the strength to continue to function as He has called us.
The truth is: Mother's Day may forever be hard, but God knows best.
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