I saw it coming.
Like you see a tornado coming…ominous and twisty, deadly and unwelcome, wreckage in the wake.
From here, from the almost-end of this day, from the calm, I can’t see wreckage. There were moments of near tears, moments of chest-gripping, take-your-breath-away ache, but only moments.
All of today was buffered by grace.
Praying the Lord breathes life into you on this day that pours salt on your wound. Praying for deep healing and renewed hope. Praying for those things that only HE can speak into your heart. I love you!
Thinking of you this evening and will be praying for your heart tomorrow.
Warriors fighting for me, standing around me, bringing me to my King. Women praying peace over my every minute.
Thinking of you today, my sweet friend. I cannot imagine what it is like to wait for God to make you a mother. I have no words to help with this difficult day for you. But I think about you and pray for you that one day you too will know the joy of motherhood. I love you and pray for strength and peace in your heart as you wait.
I was praying for you this morning and I felt the Lord say Be Expectant. I am praying God would fill your heart this morning until it is overflowing. Love you, friend.
Mother’s Day 2015 was a new thing.
Happy Mother’s Day, friend. For loving, nurturing, and lifting up His children of all ages. Keep fighting the good fight. Cling to your faith and His goodness on this day and those to come.
Happy Mother’s Day, Nicole. You are more precious than rubies. And not forgotten. I love you dear friend.
Today is a day for celebrating women around the world who kiss scraped knees, bandage bloody eyebrows, and dip out ice-cream. As with every great day, there’s a remnant of people, the fringes of the tapestry, that find it hard to celebrate. They cannot see the hope, know the joy, remember with gladness. For the unraveling women, it can be a day of great pain, a day of great loss…and no amount of hutzpah can hold her together.
You read about the pain of mother’s day for those without…for those with empty arms, barren wombs, tombstones instead of toddlers. You see it on your newsfeed, in your email, on the face of a friend.
To those that long to speak into the hurt: Do so wisely.
Know where you are stepping—know that this place, this day, this conversation is uncomfortable all the way around.
Know we long to be loved and ache to be seen—words aren’t required.
We can do without your quick-fix quotes and your go-to quips. We’ve heard them, we know them, and we want to kill you with them.
We don’t always want to talk about it on this day. Give us a minute; try again.
Be awkward. It’s awkward. It’s okay.
Be ready. Our response may be what you expect…and it may not. Heads up.
To those without: You’re not alone.
You know this, but on this day, sometimes the dark overwhelms.
There are women who love you and long to show you love on days like today. Let them in. Let them see the icky. Talk to them; show them how to love you well.
You’ll forever feel alone without them.
I know. They have what you don’t, and questions come up that you can’t or don’t want to answer.
It’s going to be awkward. It’s going to be ouchy.
Deep breaths. You need them.
They can love you like other’s can’t. They can breathe life, remind you of Him who is Able, and cry out on your behalf. They are fierce fighters for your heart. They indulge your tears, bring chocolate to the rescue, and fend off the stupid that comes at you with good intentions.
Let them in.
To my momma friends—
Where would I be without you? My heart and mascara were saved by your outpouring of love today. You fortified me with His love, with His grace, His Word, with HOPE. You were the Church on this day, and I praise Him for you!
Thank you for sharing your babies with me—the joys of late night prayer/feeding session, the so-so-so-many diaper woes, the blow-outs, the first-dad feedings.
Thank you for sharing your toddlers with me—the smiles, the let’s-run-everywhere-we-go attitude, the questions, the hilarity.
Thank you for sharing your pregnancies with me—the first timers and the third-time’s-a-charmers.
Thank you for sharing your teens with me—the oh-poop-she-has-a-boyfriend minutes, the broken arms, the rooted love.
You are building into me a mom-heart.
To my momma—
Thank you for making my bed on the countless days I left it undone.
Thank you for pumping the fluid away from my heart multiple times a day for multiple days—by hand.
Thank you for always fixing sausage and biscuits on Sunday morning.
Thank you for letting me sneak bread out of the pantry…daily.
Thank you for pushing us outside everyday. I know now it was to save your sanity.
Thank you for Captain D’s after every cardiology appointment. Those crunchies saved me.
Thank you for introducing me to Mary Kay and the joys of color.
Thank you for always packing my floaties.
Thank you for serving me every time I move by packing and unpacking, cleaning and putting away, by being my organizational chart.
Thank you for the weekly phone calls just to see how I’m doing.
Thank you, mom.
To our mommas that we miss, our babes-in-waiting, our littles that beat us to meeting Jesus:
We love you. Fiercely.