Just Another Mother’s Day

Photo by Magda Ehlers from Pexels

I thought I could avoid it. Really, I did. I don’t know why, but I did. Turns out, I was wrong. I thought that maybe, just maybe, if I didn’t post anything, or do what we usually do, or make a big deal, I could trick my heart into thinking that it wouldn’t feel as much pain this year. And honestly, I thought I had pulled it off. Mother’s Day came and went. We did enough. Went to church, bought lunch so I didn’t have to make it, Blake and the kids surprised me with gifts, grilled out for dinner, and I even got to plant my flower bed.It was a nice day! I went the whole day feeling like I didn’t really feel a lot, which I thought was a good thing.

In case you need caught up, because of the loss of our three baby boys, Mother’s Day is one of the hardest days of the year for me. Every. Single. Year. It’s always a mixed bag of emotions. Joy and grief simultaneous. And so, this year I decided that the pain was too much and I just didn’t want to feel it. Every time I felt the pain creeping in, I would push it back down and ignore it. Every time I was tempted to feel sad, I would shake my head “no” and distract myself with something else. It was all a big charade, this fooling myself. All over facebook and instagram I saw people making posts about how Mother’s Day can be so hard and how nobody is alone and they’re sending out love and prayers. It’s something I usually do too. I thought about doing it yesterday, but something inside me just said, “Nope, not this year. I don’t want to open myself up this time. It hurts too bad. Nobody will miss it anyway.”

Yet, here I am. Only one day after Mother’s Day. Because guess what? I took one look at my blooming hydrangea plant and it all caught up to me. The pain from Judah’s birthday. The burden of the twins’ upcoming due date. And Mother’s Day. It all hit me smack in the face and there was no denying it anymore. I stood out there in my yard, watering my freshly planted flowers, Fletcher on my hip, weeping. I. Could not. Escape. My grief. This side of glory, I’m coming to terms with the fact that I never will. And I’m trying to accept that that’s not necessarily a bad thing. My grief is what makes me relatable. It’s what helps me see the pain in others. It’s what makes me a better, more grateful mom. It’s what gets me running full force into the arms of Jesus. It’s also what helps to make me look more like Him.

Oh dear friends, this road is anything but easy. In fact, it’s hard as hell. It’s brutal, and soul crushing,and heart wrenching. It’s painful, it’s unfair. And just. Plain. Hard. But can I tell you one thing it’s not? It isn’t hopeless. Of course there are moments, even days that it feels that way. But that feeling never stays. No. Jesus doesn’t let it. And even on the nights when I’m afraid of a new day, it still comes. And with it, new promises, fresh hope, and the ever-loving arms of Jesus. I still cry, and feel sad, and ache so badly to hold those boys in my arms. And that’s ok, good even. That’s the way God intended it to be. But I don’t ever have to lose hope.

Are you hurting today, dear one? Is the weight of death, or grief, or even life, hanging over your head? Me too. All of it. I feel it hard. Even now, as I sit here at this desk typing these words, I have tears falling down my face. I. Feel. It. Hard. And as much as I was trying to avoid it this year, I’m ok with it now. It doesn’t feel good, allowing my heart to actually feel the pain I’m trying to hide, but it’s necessary. It’s part of the healing. I’m trying to embrace it and let the walls I’ve built up around myself fall. I have so far to go on this journey of healing. I don’t know what it all will look like. It’s unsettling for me to not be in control. But I know that I’m going to be ok, because I know that my God is Good. I’m not alone. I never will be. And while I will never have a Mother’s Day that isn’t shrouded in pain, I have much to be grateful for.

I guess I need to get used to this whole “joy and grief” simultaneous thing, because it goes far beyond Mother’s Day, and into every single day of my life. I invite you to join me on my journey, because even though our circumstances may be different, we need each other. We need someone beside us to breathelife into us when we feel like we’re suffocating. We need someone to help us stand when we feel too broken to hold ourselves up. We need someone to help us see when our eyes are too blurred by tears. We need someone to take our hand when we seem to have forgotten our way. We need each other. And I’m so glad God intended it that way.

Gratitude

 

Photo by Ylanite Koppens on Pexels.com

Gratitude can be hard. Amiright? Like, when life is aallllll good and easy breezy, finding things to be grateful for is easy. “I’m grateful my kids were all perfect little angels today. I’m grateful for my awesome job promotion. I’m grateful for the outstanding health of my family. I’m grateful my whole entire house is perfectly, spotlessly clean. etc. etc. etc.” But what about in the storms? What about when the sun isn’t all bright and shiny. What about when those strong winds blow, and I mean hard, against your house? What then? How can we be grateful when our wombs that we so desperately want filled are still empty? How can we be grateful when that baby we so longed for left us too soon? How can we be grateful when we are so sick we can barely stand? What then? How can we be grateful?

Friends. I’m about to tell you a really hard, maybe painful, truth, but please know that I am speaking it in love. This is in no way a smack on the hand, or an invitation to “be more holy,” but rather a loving nudge to find a way to breathe when you feel like you’re suffocating. Gratitude is a choice. Always a choice. Ever a choice. Gratitude. The definition of gratitude is: the quality of being thankful; readiness to show appreciation for and to return kindness. The quality of being thankful. Readiness to show appreciation. This is hard stuff, right? Dear one, I feel you. I know. There have been days when I have strived to be grateful. Days when it felt like being grateful was simply not possible. In fact, I once got a mug for a friend who had recently lost a baby that said something along the lines of, “Thank you, Lord.” I told her it was so she could try to remember the things that she was thankful for, but that she also had permission to throw that mug against the wall and smash it into a million pieces, if that felt better. It can be that hard. Most of us have been there at one point or another. And that’s ok. 

It’s totally ok to be at a point in your life where you are struggling to feel grateful. Because it’s in those moments when you find the things to be the most grateful for. Sometimes when we’re put between a rock and a hard place, amazing things happen. God opens our eyes to see what’s truly in front of us.

Are you at a place where you’re struggling to be grateful? Can I help you take that very first step in the choice to be grateful? Find one thing. Just one. One tiny little thing to be grateful for. And then speak it. Did you load one dirty dish into your dishwasher today? Praise Jesus! Grateful. Were you able to pour yourself a glass of clean water to quench your thirst. Incredible! Grateful. Were both of your socks hole free when you pulled them onto your feet this morning. Nothing like it! Grateful. It doesn’t matter how small or inconspicuous it may seem, you will be able to find something to be grateful for. Did you have a tissue to blow your nose while you were crying today. Thank you Lord! Grateful. Your phone was fully charged and ready to go when you woke up. Can I get an Amen? Grateful. Somebody posted a funny gif when you looked at that fully charged phone. Yes, please! Grateful. Start small. Work your way up. You’ll get there. I promise. Just give it time. If you need help thinking of something to be grateful for, phone a friend and ask them! I’m sure they would be more than happy to help you out.

And friend, just because you’re grateful, doesn’t mean that you have to be ok. It doesn’t mean that all the darkness has gone away. It just means that you’ve taken a tiny little pin and started to poke holes in it to let the light shine through. That’s all. It means you’re taking a first, tiny little step into letting your heart heal, whatever that may look like.

In this season where gratitude takes center stage, even if every thing in your life seems to be going wrong, or simply not according to plan, know that you can also take part in this whole gratitude thing. The choice is up to you. And it’s a choice you won’t ever regret. Honestly. Grateful for all of you. Grateful you’re tagging along for my journey. Each and every single day. Thank you.