That Day in May



In the past, I enjoyed it. Cards. Hugs. Gifts. Love.


Until the unthinkable happened.


I wanted to rub it off the calendar. Remove the merchant ads. Silence the cheery greetings at church. But it couldn’t be done.


It’s not that I’m a mother hater. It’s just that I’m a wounded mama.


Sure, I can recite spiritual truths and Scriptures that should encourage me. And, to a point, they do.


But in the end, my son is still dead, and I carry a loss that will never fully heal this side of heaven.


As the years pass, I become slightly more accepting of the loss. I lean in more to how God can use me as He uses loss to shape me. And I try not to be shocked and insulted when losses come, but accept they are part of a broken world.


But intellectually knowing losses will come and emotionally accepting them are two different things.


And this Mother’s Day holds a new challenge. The first Mother’s Day I’m not giving a card or gift to my mom. Because she is gone. The sadness of missing her will be an added grief.


That day in May continues to be one of the tools God uses to shape me . . . as I am sure it does others who have lost, who have never had, or have had other “motherhood” challenges.


Again, this Mother’s Day I cry out to God and need His strength. And God is there as always to hear my cries and assure me that He is enough even on this Day in May.


The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:18

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