The Heaviness of Mother's Day

Mother's Day always has me thinking of those for whom this day may be difficult. Maybe it's age. Maybe it's part of living in this broken world. But each year I see a little more suffering. A little more heartbreak. And each year my heart, while celebrating the joy of motherhood, also carries a heaviness on this day. 

Please, please don't misunderstand me. While my heart feels squeezed with painful heaviness on this matter, it is the pain of compassion. The pain of sympathy. It is not the pain of your experience and I would never want to add further to your suffering by pretending to fully understand your sorrow. But there is one who sees you. One who knows. 

Please know amid whatever emotions this day holds for you God is El Roi, the God who sees you. He sees you and He loves you. 

To the the one with a true mother's heart who yearns for morning sickness and sleepless nights so one day a little voice calls her mommy; the one who never dreamed infertility would be a road she traveled. He sees you and He loves you. El Roi. 

To the one who grieves over the past decision of intentionally ending a pregnancy and wonders who her baby would have been; who sees a date on the calendar with piercing pain and struggles to accept the forgiveness offered. Perhaps she carries a secret laden with sorrow all alone. El Roi. He sees you. He knows you. He loves you. 

 To the one who feels robbed of the joy of motherhood. She goes through the routines but feels burdened instead of blessed. Maybe she's suffering depression. Maybe she doesn't have the support so many of us take for granted. Somewhere along the way she found herself without laughter. Without a smile. Maybe others see it. Maybe they don't. He sees you. He loves you. El Roi.

To the one who wonders where she went wrong as her child is walking a destructive path; who blames herself. Her heart is breaking while watching her child reap consequences of their own or other's decisions. She feels powerless, helpless. El Roi. He sees you. He loves you.

To the one who feels forgotten, unseen. She wonders if she’s appreciated, loved. She wonders if anyone sees her sacrifices. El Roi. He sees you. He loves you.

To the one who will never hold her baby this side of heaven. The one who wonders how life would be different if only she was experiencing it with her baby. Weeping over never having had all the firsts. Experiencing sorrow only one who has walked her path can imagine. He sees you too. He loves you. El Roi.

To the one who held her baby for hours or even years but does so no more. It wasn't long enough. The one who would do anything to hear the trickling laughter, see the impish grin, or once more cuddle that soft little body into hers. Her broken heart has seen the last light in little eyes, kissed the last boo boo. stroked that fuzzy head for the last time. The suffering she has endured is heart wrenching. El Roi. He knows. He sees you. He loves you.

I weep for all of you as I write this because today carries a heaviness for you that only El Roi can truly understand. He sees you. He sees your pain, your sorrow, your tears, your heart. Even in those moments of anger and brokenness and questions He sees you. May He carry you and hold you ever so close today.