Two Sundays ago, I cried through church. I felt horrible about it, and desperately wanted to stop, but I just couldn’t. It seemed like almost the whole service was devoted to celebrating mothers. I guess, since it was Mother’s Day, that is fair enough, but it’s a weird thing when you read Bible stories about people who prayed for — and received — babies and then wonder what you must have done wrong or what is wrong with you that your prayers are unanswered.
I love my mother. I love mothers in general. But I really struggle with Mother’s Day. It’s an annual reminder of how the years are passing — have passed — and left me behind.
A lot of people have assumed, wrongly I would add, that I must not want kids since we never had any. After all, I am a driven career woman with two advanced degrees. Most people don’t know those things were done to occupy my mind while my heart was breaking.
Most days I don’t think about what might have been; I just keep busy and keep moving. Until I’m sitting still in church on Mother’s Day with no place to run, no place to hide, and my broken heart on full display.
We sang a song saying “All that thrills my soul is Jesus,” and I thought about how that has to mean more than the words. The verse “my grace is sufficient for you” ran through my mind as I prayed for peace — and a fresh stash of Kleenex. And His grace is sufficient.
And I know He understands my tears.
I spend a lot of time trying to hide my tears. In fact, I wrote this blog post two Mondays ago but decided it was too personal to share. Too raw. After all, I didn’t want pity. I don’t want pity.
But one thing I’m learning is that our struggles allow us to minister to others. Through them, we can say, “hey, I’m hurting. I’m not perfect. It’s okay if you’re hurting, too.”
Dana and I started The Pink Typewriter Project to make a positive difference, and maybe this is a little more soul-baring that you bargained for when you started following us. But I’m guessing it’s not. I’m guessing you hurt, too. Maybe in different ways. Maybe in deeper ways. But I want to say I care — and more importantly — that I know God cares.
I got through that Sunday’s service by writing scripture verses on my order of worship. I asked God to speak to me and wrote down what came to my mind. First verse on the list? “Cast all your cares on Him because He cares for you” (1 Peter 5:7).
And that’s a wonderful promise from the One who Hears and promises to meet us in the midst of our tears.
I usually end my posts by asking for your comments. Today, I won’t ask you to share your worst hurts, but I will tell you that we care and that the Pink Typewriter Community is here for you.