In quiet reminiscence, I remember a time many years ago when the stillness of the night and the silence of dusk enveloped me as my eyes drifted to the calendar on the wall, and my vision centered in on one day in specific:  May 13th: Mother’s Day.

 

The absence of sound and movement defined the room and it resonated within my heart.  There was nothing in the room but quiet and stillness.  My heart wasn’t content, but it wasn’t broken either.  The endless abyssal void of my soul was just that— void.

 

“Maybe this is the year,” I thought to myself.  “But then again, maybe not.”

 

There are eleven nationally recognized federal holidays.  There are at least twenty-four irregular or religious-specific holidays that the general public honors or celebrates.  All in all, there are between 30-50 holidays that most Americans celebrate on a yearly basis.  From Halloween to Saint Patrick’s Day to Columbus Day, I live my life.  But on one of those holidays, just one day out of an entire year, I am absolutely wrecked.

 

One day a year, I am wrecked with unbearable sorrow.

 

Christmas has always been hard.  It gets easier each year, but there has always been a desperation within me that seeks to find a family.  Christmas is difficult for numerous reasons, yet even with the overarching theme of sadness that seems to overcome me on that holiday, it does nothing to overshadow the very distinct and poignant pain that arrives on Mother’s Day.

 

I learned to overcome the depression surrounding family holidays like Thanksgiving and Easter.  God healed me to a point where I didn’t long for a family until my body ached.  Over and over again, Abba proved Himself to be enough.  So, year by year, I grew stronger in my identity in adoption in Christ and found joy in what I could.  I learned to rejoice and find joy, all until Mother’s Day came around.

 

I used to try to reason with my psyche.  Why would Mother’s Day destroy me when Father’s Day doesn’t?

 

The only conclusion that my mind came to is this: of all of the holidays that could serve as a reminder to my lack of family, Mother’s Day is the worst because I believed that I would never have that role— the role of a Mother— fulfilled in my life.

 

When praying about my father and his salvation, I am able to rest in knowing what God has promised: that one day He will restore my father to me and to God once again.  I know that God has promised that my dad will get to experience Christ on this side of heaven.  I know that one day, my father will repent and be baptized by the Holy Spirit and began to understand and support the way that I live my life.  Until then, Father’s Day serves as a reminder of God’s promise to me.

 

Instead of experiencing sorrow or sadness when June rolls around, I find joy in knowing that I will one day dance in Heaven in front of my heavenly Father with my earthly one.

 

But then there’s Mother’s Day.

 

Christmas comes around, and I long in agony for a family.  I weep over lost time and lost love.  But year by year, I grow stronger and more confident in Christ’s sovereignty and plan for my family.

 

Holidays and events come that are designed for families, and I no longer encounter depression.  I have found beautiful completion in knowing that I will both have an earthly family one day and that I am constantly surrounded by a heavenly family in its place until then.

 

But on this one day— Mother’s Day— I die a little with each year that passes.

 

I have seen God do many impossible and improbable things.  I’ve seen Him achieve the unthinkable and win the un-winnable.  But in all of those things, I’ve never seen my mother be conquered by Christ.

 

With most, I am sure that simply seeing the mere cloak of Jesus is enough to transform their lives, but I wonder and waver in my belief that even the face of Jesus could sway my mother’s drifting heart.

 

That hopeless sense of despair, the emptiness found inside when thinking about my mother’s salvation, that is why Mother’s Day will forever be the hardest day of the year.

 

Yet even with this reckless agony within me, I can find joy.

 

Many years ago, on a Mother’s Day quite like this, Abba communicated the sweetest of sentiments to me.  While ravaged by the holiday church service that celebrated the mom that I didn’t have, He laid His healing hand on my shattered heart and revived it.

 

Every year, I would cry out a prayer that yearned for “this year” to be the one Mother’s Day that didn’t hurt. For many years still, satan marked me an orphan and I dwelled in it. For years, I was called unloved and unwanted by him, and I believed that.

 

For years, my Abba watched as I let lies of the enemy define who I was, instead of allowing myself to rest in the truth of who Christ says that I am.

 

But in one glorious day, God demolished satan’s stronghold in my heart.

 

That day, my Abba came to me and spoke kindly, but not as a father—no.  He came to me and spoke as a mother.

 

It was in that moment that He reassured me.

 

 

 

“Child, I present myself as a Father in times that you need such.  Sometimes I am conviction and a stern hand.  Sometimes I am the discipline and the structure.  You run to me when you need to be lifted up and you seek me out when you need defense.  I can be strong and resilient and powerful when you need me to be.”

 

“But, my daughter, I will forever be your Mother.  Look to Me when you need love and affection and coddling.  Seek the shelter of My arms and the comfort of My breast.  When you lack wisdom and advice, find it in Me!  When you need the soothing words of a sound mind, I will speak.  When you desire the calming sense of home, I will envelope you.  Yes, I am your Father, but I will also be your Mother.”

 

 

 

 

Even now, I am shaken to my core at the revelation that I received on that day.  From that Mother’s Day forward, I have approached it differently.  I no longer wallow in misery knowing that I will never have a mother.  Rather, I rest in confidence that my God is a God that fills voids and heals broken hearts.  What I lack, He is.

 

Where I used to mourn my orphanhood, now I praise God for the testimony of adoption that He has raised within me.

 

Formerly, I anguished over satan’s deceit, as day after day, year after year, I was mocked and called unlovable.  I was so full of contempt simply because I wasn’t orphaned by death, but rather by my parent’s choice.  I was unwanted and I allowed my identity to abide in that.

 

Yet one day, my sweet Papa God called me His daughter, and I finally found the place where I belonged.

 

My soul used to cry out for justification for my orphanhood, and now I have found it.

 

What I lacked, God not only restored and fulfilled, but He has brought full circle in my life.  

 

Where I lacked a mother and desperately longed for one, He has called me to be a mother to the motherless.

 

Where I was alone and in need of compassion, He gifted me with immense empathy so those around me never have to experience the hurt of being misunderstood or lonely.

 

Where I could never speak of my broken heartedness, now He has provided the gift of words to reassure others that they never have to walk away from the throne room unhealed.  

 

He has used my brokenness to restore His people from theirs.

 

And for that, I will always be thankful that I am an orphan; I will always praise Him for His adoption.  Because through His adoption, I met Him as a mother.  Through His adoption, I was adopted into His family, which is full of compassionate mothers just waiting to take in another daughter.  By believing that He was enough, I made enough room in my heart for Him to pour out His abundance on me.

 

Now, I have many, many mothers.  I have God as a mother, but I also have women in my life who stand in the gap alongside my Jesus as well.

 

I have mothers who stand up and fight for me and choose me every moment of every day, and they have for years.  I have women who hold me and play with my hair and wipe away my tears.

 

Where I lacked one mother, God poured out many.  Because where we have not, He has great abundance.

 

So, orphans— know that you are called.  Motherless— know that you are motherless no more.  To those who have lost their matriarch to death or disagreement— you are a daughter once again.

 

You might have been lost to your earthly mother, but you have never been lost to the One that created all mothers.  So now I say that you are no longer to be called the orphans and the motherless— from now on you shall be called daughter, beloved, My one true love.  From now on, you shall be named a new name by the One that has birthed new life in you.  From now on, you shall be a daughter.  From now on, you shall have a Mother.

 

So, embrace your new life and your new family knowing that, today, you received a heavenly Mother, and that tomorrow, you will receive many more earthly ones.  Smile my daughter in celebration of this beautiful day.  Happy Mother’s Day to One that Mothers all.