The day was fast approaching and I hoped that I would wake up on
Monday without having to go through Sunday. I am not sure why
it is such a difficult day for me, nor am I alone in this. It is a day set
aside to celebrate motherhood, but so often there seems to be little
to celebrate: singleness, ones own difficult Mom, the death of a child,
barrenness, empty nest... Our culture does not honor motherhood as
anything special. Even the church can produce some pretty lame sermons
on Mother’s Day. One pastor in particular stands out to me because he
used this particular day to excoriate women! (I hid in the nursery.) My kids
left home to seek their fortunes at 20 and 17 and have lived across the
country ever since making it difficult to be together on this day.
This past week a friend and I sat over lunch and compared notes. She too
had some bad memories but I love her slant on it. Donna noticed in scripture
that God honored mothers and she has taken this as her foundation which
has changed the day for her. She celebrates God’s heart for her! Donna
invited us over to spend Sunday with her and her family, including two
delightful grown sons.
However, when Sunday morning arrived I noticed that self pity had also
arrived. The presence of self pity usually leads to “a bitter root expectation.”
I spent some time sitting with Papa regarding this and then headed down-
stairs to fix breakfast. There at the bottom of the stairs stood Jesus! No, I
did not see Him with my physical eyes but I knew He was there and that
He was holding a white box tied with a red ribbon. What was in that box?
Well, throughout the day I received the individually wrapped gifts: the sermon,
the flowers, the cards, the phone calls, the fresh strawberries, the steak dinner
lovingly grilled by my husband, balloons, laughter--all tied up under a blue
sky with lots of sunshine!
Thank you, Papa, for bringing light into a dark place, for showing up and