This weekend is a very special one for most of your congregation. But there may be a small (yet larger than you think) group of women who will sit in your pews and chairs, in silent pain.
I've always seen Mother's day as a regular holiday everyone celebrates with moms and grams and over priced Marie Callendar's Pot Pie. Until 2012. My husband and I struggled through two miscarriages and words like "sorrow, loss, or grief" don't even begin to cover it. But the insight that has come out of that season has been irreplaceable.
From the Job Song, to women I've been able to meet and pray healing over and weep with and relate with, it was a season, not of joy by any means, but of sweet and subtle redemption. That season has begun to redeem itself and for that I am grateful.
But if you want the honest truth, if given the option, I’d trade all that “ministry” for my babies back in a heart beat. It feels terrible to even write out, but I’m not sure anything but salvation is fully redeemed this side of heaven. Goodness I’m so grateful for heaven.
So why am I writing you?
Because as you stand on a platform and celebrate the amazing feat and journey of motherhood with the women attending your services, remember those who will never experience that, no matter how much they grasp for it.
No one should be ashamed of being a mother or celebrating mothers. That's just ridiculous. Motherhood is an amazing journey that changes the world. Life is life and it is worthy of celebration.
But please know, there will be women in the seats of your church services that may not show up because the emotional, physical, and even spiritual pain of this day will be too much.
And if they do, they deserve to be celebrated, even in prayer, as well. Your graciousness and love on them will mean the world. I promise.
***This letter was originally written in 2014 and adapted for today.