A Toast to the Hurting on Mother's Day

Sunday morning I will not wake to the pidder patter of tiny feet, tip-toeing their way to my bedroom door to smother me in kisses or snuggles.

I will wake to a quiet, still house. 

Mother's Day. 

One of Hallmark's biggest marketing days. 

But when I scour the racks of cards for my own mother, I notice they're doing a fairly poor job. 

There's a section missing. 

There's a rack not there.

The section for the hurting. 

This day can mean breakfast in bed for some women, but isolation and grief for another. 

There is no section for the grieving mother. 

There is no section for the barren woman, longing to eat poorly made pancakes and to kiss tangled bed-head hair.

There is no section for the step mother, waking up alone in her bed, feeling completely forgotten. 

There may never be a Hallmark card for you hurting momma, but know you are loved. 

Know you are seen. 

Know you are wanted. 

Know most of all, that you are not alone. 

Did you lose your sweet babe, momma? 

Are you praying for a miracle, momma?

Are you feeling second-rate, momma? 

Are you feeling like a failure, momma?

Are you feeling lonely, momma? 

I don't know the flavor of your particular pain this Mother's Day. 

I don't know if you tried to be a great mother, but your child fell off the grid.

I don't know if you screamed and cursed at the Giver of life for stealing tiny breaths far too soon. 

I don't know if you spend your days loving on another's child like your own, never feeling recognized. 

I don't know if you are weary from the tests, the scans, the fertilization treatments; all leading to another pregnancy test in your waste basket. 

No one can taste the pain you've tasted, momma. 

No sympathetic looks or side hugs Sunday will make it better. 

This day designed to be filled with yellows roses and cheeky cards is often, for some of you, filled with curtain-drawn windows and loneliness. 

I want to speak life into you today, momma. 

I'm one of you. 

It is a day I typically dread. 

This year was seemingly going to follow suit, until Jesus saw me, lifted my chin and reminded me that I am never forgotten and He wants to celebrate with me. 

I don't know where you are or if your story looks anything like mine, but it's time to open the blinds on Mother's Day and let the Light come in. 

Celebrate the kick ass woman you are and all of the women around you. 

I will undoubtedly spend time with my own mother this weekend, but most of my time will be spent surrounded with other strong, beautiful, encouraging women; many without children or their own journey of hurt revolved around motherhood. 

I will celebrate my own journey and the journeys of the women around me. 

As women, we are asked to play many roles through various seasons of our lives. 

We play the lead role, then the back up, the stage hand and the set designer. 

Own whatever role you are in right now.

At this very season. 

The show can't go on without you. 

Grieving mother, barren mother, step-mother.

Get out and celebrate yourself. 

You don't need a flimsy paper card to tell you what you're worth or how much you are loved. 

Grab a glass of wine darling. 

Cheers to us!