Mother's Day is bittersweet. It usually is. Two friends faced this day motherless for the first time while others have arms that ache in emptiness for babies that never breathed. My heart aches for them. My own journey is one of colossal grief and audacious joy, often in the same moments. I have raised five, loved on dozens more and buried one. They have all shaped and molded my heart into the slightly hard but mostly soft mess it is today. I love big so the hurts hurt hard and the milestones often do too. I am so proud and yet also pushing for more. My brood has their hands full. They know they are loved unconditionally so I am their safe target for angst. May God use this to grow my ability to extend grace. Always grace and yet I continue to fall short despite twenty six years of practice. Motherhood is designed to grow me and so I laugh at the gift of chocolate two weeks into my sugar-free diet and re-gift it as dessert after the brunch I prepared for those who showed up to hug me today. It's all grace.
I escaped for a bit both Saturday and Sunday to clear the noise in my head after a very trying week of mothering; the "holiday" that much more complicated as result. There were loud words and broken hearts and shockingly a trip to the principal's office too. In life, and particularly in mothering so many, there is rarely rest. I count it a gift but one that often leaves me reeling.
Prompted by a Bible study on messy people, I bravely asked the one who knows me best what life is like on the other side of me. Plot twist; the messy one is me. But he thoughtfully considered how to respond and lovingly said I felt like home. His expanded explanation beautiful and kind. I am grateful for his grace.
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